#leviweek25

Rocking your hips upwards, you rise to take him all over again. The mattress creaks. Levi's hand moves from your hip to your rear, gripping your ass with enough force that you almost topple forward.

You roll your hips again.

A hiss slips out of his lips.

"Walls," you murmur. "Look at you." You pause, just long enough to feel him twitch inside you. "You like that, hm? Like the way I touch you? The way I praise you?"

"Tch, stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Using those words."

Your grin widens.

"Why?" you tease. "You obviously like them."

"I do not."

The lie is obvious.

With his pupils blown wide, his breathing shallow and uneven, Levi must know as much. Before long, color creeps up his neck, and he scowls, crow's feet crinkling near his deep-set eyes.

Your smile softens.

Age has only enhanced Levi’s features, you think. Black hair that shines like twilight, embellished with streaks of silver—like starlight. Wrinkles and freckles scattered across his face. Sagging skin that contracts with every thrust. 

Beautiful, you want to say, though knowing Levi’s disposition for the word, you abstain from it for now. 

Instead, you take to worshipping his body through touch. Years of memorizing him have allowed you to copiously study him, and you’re nothing if not a committed scholar. 

Slowing down your movements, your hands carefully pin his shoulders down where you stabilize forward. There, your digits trace every scar, admiring the dip and curve of jagged skin.

When you look up, Levi is watching you, eyes dark and intent, something unguarded flickering there. His good eye, gray-blue and heavy lidded, tracks your every movement. The other, milky and unfocused, does nothing to soften the intensity of his gaze. His lashes flutter when you drag your thumb along a particularly sensitive line of scar tissue.

You lean down without thinking, pressing a slow, lingering kiss. His tongue slips in and you respond at once, a quiet sound caught low in your throat. Levi's hand comes up to cup your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek.

A shudder wracks down your spine.

You pull back just enough to breathe, and that is when you feel his other hand slide between you. His thumb finds your clit, circling with practiced ease. The sudden friction pulls a sharp gasp from your chest, hips jerking despite yourself.

"There," Levi drawls with a satisfied tone, like he intends to punish you for putting him on the spot. "Now we're even."

“Levi—s-shit... that's cheating," you stutter. Heat coils tighter with every pass of his thumb. "All I did was admire.”

“Then admire me from up there.”

With ease, Levi pushes you back just enough to reposition himself. His cock presses at your entrance before sinking back inside you in one smooth motion. The stretch steals your breath away. Your forehead drops briefly to his shoulder as a low moan spills out, unrestrained.

One of Levi's hand remains firm on your chest, the other never leaving its slow, relentless rhythm over your clit. Each of his strokes is deliberate, unhurried, like he intends to wring every reaction from you.

It is clear what he is doing. Levi has decided you will come first.

But you’ve always been particularly competitive, wanting to match his own streak in every way possible. 

Today proves to be no different.

So with your last ounce of clarity, you tighten your legs around him, fingers digging into the curve of his shoulders to push yourself back. When you clench down on him again, Levi jolts against you.

"C'mon now," you coo, quickening your pace. "Come for me, my beautiful man."

And with those words out in the open and your hips rolling to match your vices, you watch as Levi squeezes his eyes shut and comes undone, vertebrae by vertebrae. The feeling as he bottoms out inside you is unparalleled.

That Sunday morning, you take your time to continue to bestow pleasure onto Levi, and he onto you.

The two of you finally have all the time in the world, after all… and you intend to make the most of it.

A man in a group of suits at a booth called your name next, waving you over. The table was already overflowing with some of the girls working the floor in sparkly dresses and high heels, but he patted the seat beside him anyway, offering a spot with an eager grin.

“Rain check!” you said, shuffling by. “Work first. You know how it is.”

He groaned in good-natured disappointment, and you slipped away before someone tried to hand you anything powdered. Someone else tried before you could reach the bar—a wiry lawyer you didn’t trust. He flashed a folded bill and a small bag, and you almost laughed. But instead, you flapped your hands.

“No, thanks. Last thing I need is to explain myself to my mother,” you said. That ended the conversation promptly, as it usually did.

You wove through the clusters of people and past the pool tables. A couple you’d cut off from drinking last week had the decency to look embarrassed as you passed. When you got behind the bar at last, your mother was already there, sliding a fresh stack of towels into the workstation. She greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and a once-over.

“Thursday crowds look good,” she said, turning to rinse a shaker. “Try not to cut too many people off tonight.”

“No promises.”

“And Mr. Smith is here tonight. Came in about twenty minutes ago.”

You paused, hand hovering over a bar rag. Your mama’s club might have been a neighborhood institution, but everyone knew whose protection it was under. Erwin Smith didn’t show up for no reason, and he never showed up alone.

“Did Mr. Smith request anything special?” you asked.

“Privacy,” Mama said simply.

Your eyes lifted toward the balcony-level VIP section. You couldn’t see the men occupying the space behind the frosted glass partition, but they were there without a doubt. And usually, where Erwin Smith went, at least one of his lieutenants followed. There was no way to be sure, but considering the electric kettle set out by the service station, you’d bet half your tips for the night that Levi Ackerman was upstairs tonight. And if he was, you weren’t sure whether you hoped he stayed put this time or came down looking for you.

For the first hour of your shift, you mixed drinks, sliced garnishes, juggled conversations with regulars, and kept tabs on the room. Every good bartender learned to read people; it was part of the job, and this part came to you naturally. By half past nine, the floor girls cycled through for their usual check-ins. Some asked for water while others dropped by for a quick gossip break.

“Babe,” crooned Maria, a tall redhead with long legs, “you didn’t answer my text today. Were you asleep or ignoring me again?”

“I was working my other job,” you said, sliding her a glass of soda water. “I wouldn’t ignore you.”

“Liar,” she said sweetly, leaning against the bar. “Anyway, table eight is full of tech guys. Big spenders, but they’re terrible tippers. Don’t waste your time.”

“Noted.”

“And table three,” she added, dropping her voice to a whisper. “The new one with the gold watch? He’s already asked about you.”

You grimaced. “Let him know I’m not available.”

“Already did,” Maria said with a smirk before grabbing the soda water and disappearing back into the crowd.

The floor girls liked to treat you like a little sister, probably because you were one of the only constants here in a world of temporary faces and temporary jobs. You looked out for them, and they returned the favor in their own ways, offering tips about clients, warnings about incoming trouble, whispered gossip about territory politics.

It was all useful. You gathered your own information, of course; few people noticed bartenders, and even fewer remembered what they said to one. But the club’s clientele gave all sorts of things away to the pretty faces that kept them company in the booths. And anything significant would almost certainly go into one of the short memos you wrote and left for Mr. Smith’s courier.

You didn’t serve the mob directly, and you didn’t want to. But you did understand the value of being useful. Your mother always liked to say that a little information was worth more than a lot of loyalty.

After pouring a few more rounds of shots, you were just finished garnishing a gin rickey when you noticed a familiar, subtle cue: Gabe, the bouncer stationed near the VIP stairs, caught your eye and tapped twice against his earpiece. The Smith party was expecting refills.

Mama usually handled Mr. Smith’s private tables, but when she was busy, you were trusted to be the designated second. Pressing your lips together, you went about collecting the tray. Bourbon, sparkling water, a whiskey neat, a bottle of sake, crystal tumblers, and a fresh cup of steaming black tea. Before you could step around the bar, a hand adorned with a gold watch clamped around your wrist.

“Hey,” a voice slurred.

You startled without meaning to. Up close, the man’s watch looked even more expensive, with heavy gold links and a flashy diamond bezel. His smile was lazy and predatory.

“I just wanted a minute of your time, sweetheart,” he said, not letting go of your wrist.

“I’m working,” you said.

“So, take a break. Come sit with me for one drink.” His grip tightened. “Don’t be difficult. You hostess girls don’t have to play hard to get.”

“I’m not a hostess,” you gritted out, attempting to twist free. The tray wobbled in your hand.

The man grinned wider. “Don’t be a bitch. I’m trying to be nice. You think you’re too good for me?”

You yanked again. His grip didn’t budge. “Let go. Now,” you said, voice flat.

He leaned in, sour whiskey breath thick. “Don’t get smart, doll. You ain’t gonna like it.” His thumb ground against the bones of your wrist.

You could see the bouncers at their posts, laughing with some regulars, oblivious. The floor girls were busy, and your mother was in the back storeroom. It figured. You learned early around here: you were on your own. Normally, you wouldn’t want to yell or cause a scene when Mr. Smith was present. But you were seconds away from dropping the tray anyway and taking the heel of your hand to the man’s nose when a cold voice cut through the noise.

“Oi.” Levi stood beside the bar, his eyes glittering silver in the low light. “You got a death wish?”

He didn’t have to raise his voice for the man’s body to go rigid, all the slick arrogance draining out through the soles of his shoes. You twisted your wrist again, taking advantage of the distraction. The man’s grip loosened just enough for you to slip free, your fingers tingling from the pressure. You stepped back, frowning.

“J-just having a friendly chat,” the man said, trying to muster a laugh. “No harm in that, right?”

Levi took a step forward. “The fuck was your hand doing on her?”

The patron’s smile cracked, sweat pricking at his temple. “Just talking, is all. I didn’t mean nothing by it,” he stammered, hands rising in surrender, palms damp.

Levi glanced at your wrist, at the red imprint blooming on your skin. Disgust flickered across his face. “You do something like that in here again, and you’ll be drinking dinner through a tube. Understand?”

The man looked around, desperate for support, but the regulars at the bar suddenly found their drinks fascinating. Even the floor girls steered clear; nobody wanted to be caught in Levi’s crosshairs when he was angry.

“I-I get it,” the patron said, shrinking away.

Levi’s eyes followed the man until he vanished into the crowd. Only then did he shift his attention. “You alright?” he asked. Though, as usual, it sounded less like concern and more like an assessment of damage to something that, for whatever reason, he considered within his domain.

He was dressed impeccably, as always, in a monochromatic three-piece suit. Pinstriped slacks, perfectly pressed to crease in the front. A peek of gray from the lapels and lining of his jacket. The waistcoat hugging his form exactly right to suggest a lean but well-muscled torso. You tried not to picture how he looked underneath.

“I was handling it,” you said, lifting your chin.

“I noticed,” he said, adjusting the silver cravat pin below his neck. “You didn’t have a hand free to break his nose.”

You exhaled sharply, setting down the tray on the bar to rearrange the jostled components. Levi’s tea had spilled somewhat into the saucer. “You don’t have to come down here for drinks. I was just about to bring these up.”

“Wasn’t coming down for the drinks,” he said, leaning his hip against the bar.

“Then, you must’ve missed me,” you muttered, nudging the tea upright and blotting the rim with a bar napkin.

Levi looked at your wrist again. “Ice it behind the bar,” he said. “Don’t let Gabe see. He’ll get loud, and I’m not dealing with that shit tonight.” It was a warning; Smith’s nights were always supposed to run smooth, no ugly ripples for the wrong eyes to notice.

You flexed your hand; the ache wasn’t so bad, really. “I’ll live,” you said.

He gave you an unimpressed frown as you finished blotting the saucer. You checked the tray's balance and nodded to him curtly as you turned back toward the stairs. Without looking, you could feel Levi’s presence shadowing you up to the VIP balcony.

Once you arrived, Erwin Smith greeted you with his usual affability. The men around him barely looked up, too deep in their own discussion. You set the bourbon down first—Erwin’s—then, the other drinks one by one. Levi didn’t join the table, lingering instead by the door with his arms crossed. As you poured, you could feel his gaze like pinpricks on the back of your legs, as if he somehow knew he’d be spreading them later.

You finished as swiftly as you could, gave Mr. Smith a respectful dip of your head, and excused yourself.

The rest of your shift blurred by. It was sometime after midnight when the club began to thin out. Maria blew you a kiss before leaving with a high-roller, and Kira hugged you and whispered, “Don’t forget to text when you’re home.” Mama retreated to the office with the receipts, trusting you to finish closing the bar.

When you finally locked the liquor cabinets and pulled on your coat, your limbs felt heavy and warm. You grabbed your bag and headed out toward the staff exit, feeling a bit too wired to relax just yet. As the cold air of the alley rushed over you, you glimpsed the black sedan idling at the curb, the passenger-side window rolled down just far enough to reveal a familiar pair of gray eyes.

“Get in,” Levi said.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Car’s warm,” he said, glancing past you. “And he’s still hanging around.”

You didn’t need to ask who he was. The gold-watch man’s face flashed in your mind, all hungry grin and sticky entitlement. You exhaled through your nose. “Levi, I’m fine. You know I walk home every night.”

“Not tonight, you don’t.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can,” he said. “Get in.”

You crossed your arms. If you got in, you both knew the script. The last time you’d ended a night in Levi’s car, you hadn’t made it home until sunrise, and not because of the drive. “I’m not one of your guys,” you said. “You don’t get to order me around.”

“You’re the madam’s daughter,” Levi said. “And you’re on Erwin’s radar. That makes you our problem.”

“So, Mr. Smith sent you to babysit me,” you said, bristling.

Levi let out a very soft, very put-upon sigh. “Look. Get in the car. I’m tired. You’re tired. And if that asshole sees you leave, I’ll have to drag him out into the street by his teeth.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. Fuck it. “Fine.”

You stepped off the curb and opened the passenger door. Warm air rolled out, hitting you like a blanket. You slid into the seat and pulled the door shut, the thud sounding more final than you would have liked.

He shifted the car into drive. “Seatbelt.”

“My God,” you muttered, clicking it into place, “you’re bossy.”

Levi didn’t answer, just flicked on the blinker and nosed the sedan out into the street.

“Eyes on me,” he said, keeping his fingers clamped over your mouth. “That’s it.”

Levi had you folded in half in the backseat, legs splayed over the leather interior. His gloved palm pressed hot and hard across your lips, and the other hand gripped your thigh just above the knee, holding you open. The car’s cabin reeked of sweat and tea, the air thick with the ghost of his cologne. Outside, your apartment’s security lights flickered across the asphalt, throwing quick blue-white flashes over the windows.

You both could have probably gone up to your place. Your roommates were likely asleep anyway, but Levi never asked. After parking in the secluded section of the lot and killing the headlights, he’d simply slid his hand down the back of your neck, fitting his grip tight and possessive, and steered you into the backseat before you even thought to protest. He was the only man you’d ever let treat you like property.

Levi laved at your neck, tongue roving as he fucked you with a ruthless, controlled rhythm. You tasted leather and the cool bite of his rings beneath his glove where his fingers pressed. Above you, he kept his eyes locked on yours, even as your own threatened to roll back with every hard, relentless movement. You wanted to snarl or snap at him, but all you could do was stare up at him. Your fingers curled in the upholstery. Levi only pressed down harder, thumb stroking your cheek, daring you to look away.

“Focus,” he ordered, his voice low and dangerous.

He was all sharp-edged steel when commanding, even with you, but you hadn’t been scared of him for ages. Not since you started to notice all the hostesses at your mama’s club seemed to drop their guards and smile without flirtation when they spoke to him. Levi Ackerman, whose name made street dealers blanch, always stepped aside to let the girls pass in the cramped back halls. Word traveled fast about the last man who tried roughing up one of the madam’s girls while Levi was on the floor. You’d heard three versions of that story; all of them ended with the man crawling out the back door.

So, the fact that he had no qualms fucking the madam’s daughter, of all people, had come at a bit of a surprise. But once he’d realized just how much you wanted it, needed him to pin you down and fuck your brains out, all bets had been off. He never asked questions about why you liked it rough, or why you always started out defiant and ended up pliant. He just read you, the way you read the room at the club.

Levi shifted his hand from your mouth, only to grip your jaw and force you to keep looking at him. The windows fogged, and the car rocked with the movements, springs groaning in the dark. Your thighs shook around his hips as he plunged his thick cock into you relentlessly, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth and smearing saliva.

When your head lolled, breath stuttering, he slowed down just enough to make you crazy. “Eyes,” he growled again. You bit down on your lip, managed to glare. “Good girl.”

While he had summarily stripped you down to just your community college shirt at the beginning, which was presently shoved up to expose your tits and peaked nipples, Levi hadn’t so much as shed his gloves or polished black wingtips. His jacket was slung over the driver’s seat, and his belt and slacks were undone just enough to let out his hard cock, but that was about it. The buttons of his double-breasted waistcoat gleamed as he rutted into you, filling you with all of him again and again. His hand at your jaw squeezed until you let your mouth go slack, and he slid a gloved index finger past your lips. You sucked it in on reflex, and he pressed down further toward the back of your tongue.

“That’s it,” he said. “You want to bite me, sweetheart, you better suck first.”

The seatbelt buckle jabbed at your hip, but you could only focus on the ruthless rhythm, the dirty little grind of his hips at the end of each deep thrust, and the ache of your jaw from how hard he held you open. You closed your teeth around the leather, feeling the faint give, and heard Levi make a low, pleased sound in his throat.

“Keep it there,” he muttered.

You obeyed. You always did, in the end. You were always good for him, even when he buried his face in your pussy in one of the private booths at the club or fucked you hard and frantic from behind in one of the empty backrooms. You’d asked him once what he would do if Mr. Smith or your mother found out you were fooling around together. He’d just fixed you with that flat look and said, “Nothing.” Then, he’d pulled you over the upstairs office desk and fucked you hard enough to make you see stars.

The whimper you let out around the leather in your mouth was instantly muffled by his gloved finger. Every inch of you felt stretched thin around his girth. Levi’s other hand, the one branding deep bruises into your thigh, slid up and pressed against your inner pelvis, pinning you to the seat. In reply, you locked one leg at his hip, pulling him deeper, and clenched deliberately around his length.

“Fuck—keep squeezing me like that,” he groaned, drawing his finger from your mouth to clasp your hands above your head.

The hand between your thighs brushed against your clit slow, and you jolted, hips bucking despite yourself. Levi drank in every twitch, taking the opportunity to look, to really watch the way his length disappeared inside you. The long, deep strokes had you tipping your head back, jaw slack in absolute pleasure.

“Harder,” you gasped.

Obligingly, he slammed into you even harder, the car’s suspension shuddering. The rough leather seat burned against your shoulders and ass, almost as captivating as the obscene, perfect friction of Levi’s cock spearing into you. Softer leather scraped against your clit as he mashed his fingers against the swollen bud, smearing his gloves in your slick. Your nails scraped uselessly at the glass, palm leaving a sweaty print as Levi pistoned into you, each hard thrust threatening to slam your head into the car door.

“C’mon,” he muttered, leaning over you. “Let go for me. I know you want it.”

He drew back, only to impale you with one brutal stroke that had stars bursting behind your eyes. You arched with a moan, pussy clenching him so hard you heard him choke out a curse. Desperately, you rocked up to meet his thrusts, a frantic whispered string of please, please, please tumbling from your lips before you came abruptly around his cock. Your hips continued to stir of their own accord, knees curling in as you shuddered and shook with a strangled sob. Levi released your hands and took hold of your jaw amidst your throes, forcing you to look at him and slowing his thrusts again.

“Fucking hell, sweetheart,” he breathed raggedly, pulling his hand away from your center and wiping the wet, glossy leather against your thigh.

Levi held you open as the ripples of your release worked through your body and your hips began to slow. You could feel his cock leaking against your cervix. A shiver went through you when he dipped his head to lick the sweat off your sternum. Then, he lifted himself upright, hiked your knees up as close as they would go to your shoulders, and sank into you again.

You tried not to squirm, but the way he was picking up his pace, purposefully splitting you open with increasing speed and letting you feel every inch as if he weren’t painfully hard and fighting against the urge to finish, rubbed your sensitive nerves raw. You clenched around the ceaseless, overstimulating intrusion, holding back a scream.

“Good,” he bit out. “Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. Just like that.”

The car creaked in protest as he fucked into you. Your overstimulated body jolted with every punishing drive of his hips. Levi was gritting his teeth, eyes narrowed, his hair falling out of its crisp part. You whimpered softly, chest heaving, your trembling hands moving to clutch at his shoulders, then his biceps through the crisp black fabric of his shirt. The heat at your core bloomed with every deep shove of his hard length.

“You want me to cum?” he rasped, the lewd sound of wet skin slapping growing uneven.

“Inside, Levi,” you mumbled feverishly, eyes glassy and half-mast. “Nowhere else.”

You wanted nothing more than for him to pump you full of himself, to paint your walls with his release, marking you in a way no other client your mama’s club ever could. You knew Levi liked that. He liked to leave his mark, to know that you’d climb up those stairs to your apartment dripping with him. That you’d walk back to the bar tomorrow with that soreness between your legs and think of him with every step. He liked to fuck you to the brim until you were stuffed and overflowing with his seed, and he especially liked when you begged for it.

“Yeah. Just like that,” Levi panted. His brow was furrowed, jaw set, the tendons in his neck taut.

“Levi,” you pleaded again, desperately clawing at him.

He finally let go with a guttural curse. His eyes screwed shut as heat spilled inside you in thick pulses, his balls emptying into you as your cunt milked him for every last drop. For a moment, he remained there, holding you open and buried to the hilt, savoring the soft, involuntary twitches of your body spasming around him. Then, he sucked in a breath and slowly pulled his cock from you. You let out a soft moan at the slide, a shiver of delight running through you at the sight of Levi watching the creamy white bleeding from your glistening, messy pussy.

You jolted slightly as he scooped it up with two fingers before it could drip onto the seat and pushed it back inside, plugging his cum within the warmth of your cunt. The seams of his glove grazed against your sensitive walls, and you tightened your grip around his arms, but you didn’t stop him.

“Keep that all inside for me,” Levi murmured, tenderly caressing your stomach, the curve of your waist.

When he withdrew his fingers, black leather coated with cum, you opened your mouth automatically. Satisfied, he pushed the soaked digits past your lips. You didn’t look away from him as you took him in, tongue moving to lick him clean. The taste was bitter and salt, the tang of his sweat and the mixture of your fluids on the leather. You sucked obediently and swallowed what he gave you. Levi withdrew with a slow drag, thumb lingering to smear a last gleam of white at the corner of your mouth. You licked that away, too, never looking away from him.

“That’s my girl,” he said, easing his hand away and giving your nipple a final, teasing pinch. “Now, get dressed. And next time some asshole tries anything with you, you break his wrist or I’ll fuck you full in the club lot where everyone can see.”

You give your head a little shake and tune back into the larger conversation at hand just in time to hear Connie exclaim, “We should all celebrate with a little treat for ourselves!” 

Reiner's brow furrow, “Like what?” He asks. 

“You know, something we've been wanting or missing! We've hardly had any time to ourselves this past year but now that we're done, we can indulge in the little things again.” Connie rests his chin in his hand, staring into space with a dreamy look on his face.

You take the bait, “So how will you be treating yourself, then?” 

Connie brightens instantly, “I'm going to go to the local animal shelter we set up a few months ago and I'm going to pet every dog these grubby hands can touch.” He flexes his fingers dramatically. 

The suggestion is so ridiculous, you almost want to laugh but he's so sincere that you smile warmly instead. “That sounds great, Connie. A perfect celebration for you.” 

“I'd like to see the ocean.” Armin chimes in, “Really see it and explore you know?” 

“I also want to see the ocean.” Annie murmurs directly into the mug that she is gripping with two sets of white knuckles. 

“What?” Reiner turns to Annie with a confused frown stretching his face, “In all of the years I've known you, you've never once expressed any desire to-” he cuts off with a pained grunt, caused by Jean's swift kick to his shin under the table. 

“That works out perfectly, then.” Jean states loudly. He looks pointedly at Reiner and he continues, “Armin and Annie can go to the ocean. Together.” 

For a minute, you're afraid that Reiner will continue to question Annie's sudden interest in the sea but his face morphs slowly from lost confusion to dawning understanding and he keeps his mouth shut. It feels like the whole table breathes a sigh of relief. 

“I'd like to go back to Paradis.” Mikasa says quietly, “Back to Shiganshina. I want to see the tree where we. . .” She trails off, blinking rapidly and turning her face to the side. 

Something in your heart twists at her simple wish. You all carry emotional trauma but none as harrowing as Mikasa's. You’d like to think that healing is just a matter of time for all of you but part of you already knows that Mikasa never truly will. 

Jean slowly slides a hand on top of hers, resting on her lap. He speaks with gentleness that you didn’t know he was capable of, “I'd like to go home too. See where my house once stood. Visit Historia maybe.” 

Mikasa nods wordlessly and leans into Jean's shoulder. You wonder how long that has been going on. You catch Levi's eye and raise a questioning brow. He merely shrugs in response. 

The conversation drifts on - Reiner says he wants to take Gaby and Falco to a carnival a few towns over, Pieck's wish is to learn to knit so she can make her own sweaters, Onyankapon considers taking up sailing, and Levi refuses to answer. 

When the question is turned on you, you freeze momentarily, thinking of all the many things that you have wanted and wished for over the past year, things that are lost forever and things that you believed you would never have again. Mostly, you are desperately trying to avoid the thought that your biggest desire is currently sitting across from you, scowling at every scratch and stain on the table like they’ve personally offended them. With his inclination toward cleanliness, they probably have. Suddenly you know exactly what you want. You desperately want to replace the look with a smile. You'd trade the world to see him happy and healthy and yours. 

You can't fully admit that yourself, let alone everyone else, so you take a deep breath and push it all back down. You look up with a grin, “There was this bakery that we went to when we first came to Marley. Do you remember it? Sasha had to be physically restrained by these two bozos,” you jerk your thumb over towards Jean and Connie who are sporting bittersweet smiles at the memory. “Anyway,” you press on, “they sold these things - candied apples I think they were called - and they looked absolutely divine. I didn't have time to try one then but I've always wanted to. The bakery was destroyed in the Rumbling though, so I think I missed my chance.” You let out a dramatic sigh to sell the story. 

“Nah,” Onyankapon claps you on the back, “You can find candied apples plenty of other places, never fear, my friend.” 

“Good to know,” you smile at him and then turn to the table at large, “Next round is on me!” 

A cheer goes up around the table and the night drifts forward, conversations getting less serious, and much harder to follow due to the flowing alcohol, as the time passes. 

Eventually, you find yourself walking Levi home, just as you've done every night since he found an apartment and settled here. At first, it was because he needed help with simple tasks as he learned to adjust to his wheelchair. He stopped needing that help long ago. You tell yourself you kept coming out of a force of habit. You almost succeed in convincing yourself that it has nothing to do with the silly crush you've been nursing since you joined the scouts all those years ago. 

The space between the two of you is completely silent but it is a comfortable silence - one born of years of trust and companionship. You hum softly to yourself as you fill his kettle and set it on the stove, turning the gas on with a flick of your wrist. Next, you pull his favored tea leaves out of the box next to the sink and grab a well-loved teacup from a high cupboard. With nothing to do now except wait for the water to boil, you turn your attention back to Levi. 

He's still in his wheelchair, back turned to you, watching the fireflies twinkle beyond the window behind the kitchen table. 

“Levi?” You ask. 

He grunts in response. 

You roll your eyes at the back of his head but attempt to make conversation with him anyway, “You never answered Connie's question.” 

He sighs, “What question?” 

“The one about how you'd treat yourself now that the bulk of our work is finished.” 

“It's never finished.” 

“Yes, I'm aware. But I don't think it's so wrong to celebrate the little victories. To give yourself small rewards.” 

“Like candied apples.” 

Your face flames at the reminder of your less than honest response. You clear your throat, “Yes, like candied apples.” 

Levi sighs again, “I don't have anything like that.”

“No?” You question, “No fancy tea blends? Or specialized cleaning supplies?” He shoots you a glare over his shoulder but you giggle and continue, “No foods you want to try or places you want to see?” 

“No.” His voice is gruff but still you press on. 

“Come on Levi, there's got to be something you want. Some kind of guilty pleasure or secret desire that you've always wanted to indulge in.” 

He says your name sharply. Then, “There's nothing like that for me. Nothing I can have anyway.” 

The last sentence is directed to the floor in a whisper-quiet voice but you still catch it. “Oh?” You grin smugly and approach him with steady even steps, “So there is something you want, you just don't think you can have it.” 

“Drop it.” His tone is firm and might have scared you off a few years ago. These days you know that he's mostly bark with very little bite. 

You round his wheelchair and move to stand in front of him, “What could it be that makes you so defensive?” You tap your chin in thought, “Is it something embarrassing?” 

Levi whispers your name darkly. 

“Oh maybe it's something childish or overly sweet? Something unexpected for a man so serious?” 

He repeats your name with considerably more urgency. 

You don't stop, “Maybe it's something to do with a really strange hobby. Oh, or maybe-” 

“It's you.” 

You blink at him dumbly, sure you've misheard or misunderstood. “Pardon?” you ask. 

Levi gives his eyes another roll before looking you dead in the eye. “It's you.” He repeats, then elaborates, “It's you that I want. That I've wanted. That I wish I could indulge in. It's always been you.” 

You barely have the mental capacity to wonder if you've finally lost your goddamn mind and you certainly have no ability to provide any kind of response. The silence stretches on for just a moment too long. 

Levi turns his head away with a huff and grumbles, “Are you happy now?” 

“I'm sure I will be once I regain the ability to think.” Your breathing has picked up and you can feel your heartbeat fluttering in your throat as you try to comprehend what you just heard. You find yourself fixated on one thing in particular though, “God, Levi, did you really think you couldn't have me? I've been more yours than my own for I don't even know how long at this point.” 

At that, Levi turns back to you, the corner of his mouth twitching up. It could be the beginning of a smile or a smirk but it's too soon to tell which just yet. “Yeah?” He asks. 

Your confirmation is breathless, “Yeah.” 

His face lights up - it's definitely a smirk - as he crooks two fingers at you. “Come here then.” He nearly growls. 

You can't even begin to imagine a world where you do not follow that command so you do, feet carrying you the scant few centimeters until your knees brush his. 

Your head is spinning and your heart is out of control and you can't form a single coherent thought other than how beautiful this man looks. You have no idea where to go from here. 

Apparently, Levi does. 

Sturdy calloused hands grip your waist securely and yank you down, directly onto his lap. Your legs part on instinct, each bended knee finding a home wedged between the warmth of Levi's thighs and the cold metal rungs of the chair. You scoot forward a little to ensure that you aren't putting any weight on his bad knee and he grunts, rolling his eyes back slightly. 

The new position has you breathing in each other's air, your noses nearly brushing. A small wiggle also lets you know that your hips have aligned just so and that Levi is very much turned on right now. You’re glad you’re not the only one. Still, even with the proof pulsing warm and thick between your thighs, you have to ask, “So, just to clarify, when you said you want me, did you mean, like, in a platonic friendship way or. . . .” 

Levi hums low in his throat and leans forward the smallest amount to wrap his lips around the pulse point jumping in your neck. His tongue, teeth, and lips all work at the spot until you are certain a bruise has formed. 

He pulls back to watch your face with pupils dilated nearly wholly black and says, “I meant that I want to take you to my bedroom down the hall and fuck you deep into the mattress until your legs stop working.” 

You’re not sure what a heart attack feels like but you are 95% sure you’re having some kind of cardiac event right now. “Oh, um okay, I think we can do that,” you squeal a little as he moves to the other side of your neck. “Anything else?” 

“There's also the kitchen counter, and the sofa, and the wall, and the shower, and the floor.” You let out a small laugh but it quickly turns into a moan as Levi begins sucking on a spot behind your ear. 

“Is that all?” You pant into his hair. 

“No.” You think that the one word response is all that you will get - Levi is rarely a man of many words - but he keeps going, “I want to taste you.” Levi groans into your skin, “All of you.” He's nipping at your collar bones now and you are embarrassingly wet. You wonder if he can feel it through all of the layers of clothing between you. “I want to touch you.” His hands start doing just that- sliding up and down your sides firmly and deliberately over your thin shirt. “I want whatever you're willing to give me, however and whenever you're willing to give it.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at you. “I just want you.” 

In a moment that feels almost poetic in its timing, the kettle begins to whistle, the piercing shriek filling the room and drowning out the embarrassing whimpers that are falling from your lips. You're not sure whether you should feel relieved or let down by the kettle - you're half-convinced that if it hadn't gone off, you would have cum right there in Levi's lap, untouched and fully clothed. You're not sure how to feel about that. 

Still feeling a little dumbfounded, you scramble off of Levi to put a stop to the noise, stumbling like a newborn fawn just learning to use its legs. “Please please please hold on to that thought,” you beg as you frantically rip the kettle off of the stove and turn off the gas. You’re looking for somewhere to place the hot metal, desperate to return to Levi’s lap, and are failing spectacularly at coming up with any kind of sensible plan. You’re so distracted by your dilemma that you jump when you feel Levi’s clever fingers pry your own from the handle. In your panicked haste, you hadn’t noticed him rise from his chair and approach you. He sets the kettle back on the stove, having the sense that you lacked to set it on a different, unheated burner, and you set about putting the cup and unused tea leaves away. You’re just barely beginning to grab at the cup with fumbling hands when you're stopped dead by the feeling of Levi’s breath on your neck and the sound of his voice right next to your ear, saying your name in a downright sultry whisper. 

“Leave the dam cup,” He orders in a purr, “and take me to bed.” 

The shock of Levi being willing to leave a mess behind, no matter how small, is almost enough to shake you out of your lust-induced stupor but his hands kneading at your waist in increasingly aggressive grabbing motions pulls you back under rather effectively. You do your best not to collapse against him completely - you know it’s dangerous for his injured knee - but standing has become incredibly difficult. In lieu of anywhere else to go, you sway forward and brace your hands on the kitchen counter in front of you. 

“Levi.” It’s all you can manage and it comes out sounding strained and wispy. When he replies with your name, it is the total opposite: Growly and almost taunting in the way it lilts up at the end. 

You feel him lean over you, pressing his body to yours, slotting neatly into each dip and curve, molding himself to you. You can scarcely breathe but you can’t find it in yourself to care when he starts sucking bruising kisses into the side of your neck and drawing his teeth along your jugular. 

“Okay,” You steel yourself and push up from the counter, “Bed. Yeah, let’s - bed.” 

You feel Levi smile against the skin of your throat. He peels himself off of you and grabs your hand, pulling you down the hall without a word. 

Words remain in short supply once you reach his bedroom, mouths too busy working over each other’s skin. At some point, you lose your blouse and skirt and Levi’s shirt is quick to join them on the floor. You are vaguely aware of being pushed onto the bed but the rush of freefall is too entangled with the rush of Levi's lips sucking more bruises across your clavicle for you to tell the difference between the two. Once you’re settled atop his duvet, he moves lower, mouthing at the tops of your breasts and kneading them through the material of your bra with both hands. It is too much and not enough all at once. 

You push his hands away and tug at the garment. “Off,” you whine. 

Levi is quick to obey, sliding the straps down your arms and reaching underneath you to undo the closures. With the bra gone, you can feel the callouses from many years of ODM use scratching against the soft skin of your breasts while he continues to squeeze and grab at them. The roughness of his hands contrasts with the buttery-softness of his lips and tongue as he laves over your nipples and it feels like you're floating. You are, once again, in serious danger of cumming much too easily and much too soon. 

Levi comes up for air with a strangled gasp and, just like with the kettle, you’re not sure whether to be grateful or horribly disappointed at his timing. He looks at you for a moment, eyes flitting between your own. He opens his mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a fevered, “Holy fucking shit,” before he dives back down. He lands below your chest this time and pecks kisses along your stomach before moving further south. His hands have traveled with him and are now forcefully holding your hips down while he kisses along the waistband of your panties. They snap against your skin as he pinches the material with his teeth and releases it. He rests his chin on your hipbone and looks up at you with a smirk as he repeats your earlier request, “Off.” 

Your hips lift as if they’re being pulled by some magnetic force and Levi slides the flimsy, and embarrassingly dampened, material off of your legs in one smooth motion. He groans and slides his hands up and down your thighs, staring at your soaked center. With a lurch forward, he gives you a quick kiss, plunging his tongue into your mouth for just a moment, before dropping down between your parted legs. He keeps his tongue equally busy there, alternating between dragging agonizingly slow between your folds and flicking swiftly over your clit. Your head spins as he vacillates between the two motions, unsure of where you want him most. 

After a particularly sharp swirl against your entrance, your hands raise up towards his hair. You catch them at the last moment and fist them in the sheets at your side instead. Levi notices. He positively growls into your cunt and reaches out with both hands to grab one of your wrists in each. He brings them to his head without stopping the motions of his mouth. You tentatively curl your fingers into his hair and when you tense them slightly, he makes a satisfied humming sound that zips throughout your core and sparks up your entire nervous system . Your back arches and you push his face further into your pussy, desperate to feel it again. 

Levi adds his fingers to the mix, circling and pushing slightly against your hole while his mouth moves to focus on your clit. He sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as his fingers press further and further into your wet heat. He crooks them and hits a spot that makes your eyes roll back. He pauses his ministrations to huff a small pleased laugh at the reaction and then does it again. And again.

You back flies off of the bed in a sharp arch as he continues his assault with his fingers and mouth. You're pulling his hair and slamming his face into your heat and you know it can’t be comfortable but you don’t think he minds too much based on the way he doubles down, increasing speed and intensity in his thrusting and sucking. It builds rapidly until it destroys you. You fall apart over his fingers and mouth, letting loose a scream that drowns out the squelching of his fingers and the slurping of his tongue. You’re not sure how long it lasts, how long you lie there with your hips thrust skyward, eyes closed, mouth agape, and fingers knotted in Levi’s silky black locks. It feels like hours but you know it was probably only a minute or two. 

When you regain your breath and open your eyes, dropping your ass back to the mattress, Levi emerges from between your thighs. His hair is mussed, sticking up in all directions, his pupils are blown wide with lust, and the lower half of his face is shining with your release. You’ve never seen him look so messy. You’ve never seen him look so good. You just came harder than you have ever cum in your life but you still want him. 

“C’mere.” It barely makes it out of your wrecked throat but Levi smiles softly at you and moves to kneel on either side of your waist. When he leans down to kiss you again, you can taste yourself on his tongue. You groan into his open mouth, desperate for more. He hinges his hips, pressing his clothed length against your throbbing center and you both sigh at the feeling. He raises his hips, aiming to push against you once more, but he freezes and flinches in pain instead. The lust clouding your brains clears instantly, making room for concern instead. You reach up to cup his face tenderly, “Your knee?” You guess.

You just barely catch the frustrated look on his face before he drops it into your cleavage. “Yeah.” He confirms with a sigh, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to fuck you into the mattress the way I wanted to. I’m sorry.” 

You pet his head softly, smoothing out the strands that you had put into such disarray. “That’s okay. You had plenty of other ideas anyway, right?” 

He gives a short bitter laugh. “I don’t know how possible any of those other ideas are going to be with my knee like this.” 

You hum. “Well I have an idea.” 

“I do.” You grin at him, “I am very vested in making your celebratory indulgence wish come true.” 

He lifts his head to look at you, “Do you, now?”

He returns your smile, “Let’s hear it, then.” 

“Hmm. I think I’d rather show you.” Without waiting for his response, you push him off of you onto his back and clamber over him. You straddle him, planting your hands on his chest and push your hips lightly into the tented crotch of his pants. A shocked gasp leaves his lips and you smile hugely. “Knee feel okay?” You ask. 

“Yeah.” It comes out strained, causing your smile to grow even more.

“Well then,” you say as you rock back against him again, “I think we should take these pants off and get the rest of you feeling okay too.” 

You move to unfasten them but are stopped by his hands on your waist and his breathless voice, “Wait, wait.” He pulls on your waist, trying to drag your body up towards his chest. “Come up here.” 

You're confused by the request but he looks so desperate that you follow it anyway, scooting up to settle below his pecks. Levi rolls his eyes and gives your waist another tug, “No,” he scolds, jerking his chin upwards, “Up here.” 

You gasp, lurching forward to steady yourself against the curved edge of the headboard in front of you. Levi wraps his arms around your thighs, securing you against him with your pussy dripping into his mouth and his nose brushing against your clit. 

You blink stupidly as his meaning registers, “Levi you don’t have to-”

He cuts you off, “This is my wish fulfillment, isn’t it?”

You flush at the reminder “Well yes but-”

“This is what I wish for. More than anything. So indulge me,” he tugs your waist a final time, “And sit on my face.” He punctuates the mind-melting sentence with a sharp tug down, forcing you to settle over the lower half of his face. 

He gets to work immediately, tongue thoroughly slicking up your folds before he plunges it deep into your cunt. The sensation of him lapping at your inner walls has you folding forward, which, in turn, causes your clit to grind against the bridge of his nose. The feeling is euphoric and you can’t help but repeat the motion, humping his face as he continues to fuck you with his tongue. 

You briefly have the thought that you shouldn’t press so firmly against his mouth and nose or squeeze your legs so tightly on either side of his head. The thought doesn’t stand for long, powerless against the flood of ecstasy that Levi brings you. It consumes you completely. Inhuman noises are ripped from your throat as he works faster, swirling his tongue inside you and raising his hands to cup your asscheeks, encouraging your grinding motions. 

Your second orgasm hits you all at once and you swear you're vibrating with the force of it as it spreads from your core to your extremities. You push yourself back to free Levi, settling at the top of his chest and leaning back with your hands planted beside his hips. He hums softly at the loss, chasing you to plant a chaste kiss at the top of your pubic mound. You smile at the sweet gesture and take a deep, rather shaky, breath. 

Slowly and deliberately, you reach behind you to teasingly rub a hand up and down his still-clothed cock, keeping eye contact the entire time. “You ready to let me take care of this now?” 

Levi bites his lip, still smeared with your release, and groans deeply. He reaches around you to unfasten his pants and begins to frantically kick them off. “I won’t last long.” He warns. 

You raise an eyebrow and ask incredulously, “And you think I will?” You scoot back enough to be able to lean down to kiss him, wiping at the mess across his cheeks absentmindedly as you do. “I can barely feel my legs and my heart is in overdrive. Levi, you’ve ruined me.” You sigh against his lips. “In the best way.” 

Inching slowly, you make sure to rub yourself against him all the way down to his lap, leaving a trail of his saliva and your cum in your wake. You give a little wiggle once you are positioned above his cock, jostling the appendage and causing it to twitch under you. Levi whimpers, an almost pathetic sound. 

“Please.” He pleads against your mouth as you lean down once more. 

It’s your turn to smirk, “Please what?” you ask. 

Something in his eyes sharpens and he replies in a raspy voice that is enough to get you wet all over again, “Sit on my cock and ride me for all that you’re worth.” 

Your breath hitches and you do your best to keep your voice level when you respond, “Well, this is your wish fulfilment after all.” 

Without further ado, you reach behind you to grasp his still twitching cock and hold it upright. You hesitate for just a moment before you move your hips down - he’s of average length but he is thick, and you worry about fitting all of that girth inside of you. It quickly becomes clear that you had no need to fret. Levi had prepped you well with his hands and his tongue and the stretch is pleasurably bearable. It is a tight fit, though - you can feel every ridge and crease of him as he pulls your hips down with a bruising grip on your waist, pushing himself as deep as possible. Your eyes roll back when he bottoms out, the plush head of his length brushing against a spot that ignites a fire in your lower belly. A strung-out groan drops from your gaping mouth and you hold yourself there for several seconds, reveling in the feeling of being stuffed full of Levi. 

Levi squeezes your waist in a silent command to move and you follow it without hesitation. You are determined to make this good for him, so you give it all you’ve got, lifting to the tip and dropping back down to the hilt in a steady, forceful pace. You lean back, bracing your hands behind you for better leverage, and let your head drop back as well. Your thighs burn and you are panting like a dog in heat but you do not allow yourself to stop. 

Levi keeps his hands busy, sliding from your waist, to your ass, to your thighs, and all the way up to your breasts, repeating the cycle over and over again, squeezing, caressing, and - in the case of your nipples, pinching - everywhere his hands trail. Eventually, one of his hands snakes its way down to your clit which has been bumping roughly against his abdomen with each bounce of your hips. He curls his fingers at the base of his dick at an angle that ensures you hit them with each drop instead. The digits swirl against the bundle of nerves in seamless dance. The feeling is too much for you and your rhythm stutters. You can feel your walls clenching around his length as you pause, gasping for air. Violent tremors wrack your body with each brush of his fingers and you feel yourself rushing toward a third orgasm. 

You give a weary attempt to continue your previous rhythm despite your fucked-out and overwhelmed state. Levi catches onto your exhaustion and grips your hips firmly. With his immense strength, he does the work for you - lifting you and slamming you back onto his cock in a perfect rhythm. You groan as you pick up the task of rubbing your clit and within seconds, you are cumming all over Levi’s cock with tears streaming down your face. A few more thrusts and Levi follows, emptying inside of you in a rush of warmth.  

He frowns back at you, “You did such a good job of fulfilling my wish, I'd feel shitty if we didn’t do the same for you. We’ll search every bakery in town tomorrow.” 

You collapse against his chest, concerns about his health be damned, and for a while, the both of you just lie there, panting against each other’s slightly sweaty skin. Levi is the first to break the silence, huffing against your hair before saying, “Fuck, now we have to find you some candied apples.”

A confused frown mars your face as you tilt your head to look up at him. “Huh?” you ask. 

He reaches up to brush a few stray hairs but you make it difficult for him when you start moving, pushing yourself up to better see him. You rest your elbows on the tangled sheets near his head and hover over him as you admonish him. “You’re such an idiot.” 

He opens his mouth to protest but you plow on. 

“You really think my number one wish, the thing I wanted most, was fucking candied apples?” You look at him incredulously and find yourself laughing softly at his furrowed brow. “Levi,” you say with all of the love and patience in the word. His lips lift at the sound of it and you mirror the expression. “I only said apples because I had to give them something. My real wish was this.” 

Levi raises an eyebrow, “‘This’ as in. . . ?” He trails off, glancing down to wear the two of you are still joined, his release leaking out of you around his cock in a steady stream.

“No!” You swat playfully at his arm and he laughs, full-bodied and loud. 

“Well maybe a little.” you admit once he quiets. You reach up to trace the smile on his lips and continue, “But what I was really thinking about was this. Your smile.” He kisses your finger as it makes another pass. “My wish would be to see you smile, as often and as brightly as possible. To see you happy and healthy and safe. And,” you look down in embarrassment, “I really wanted to be the one to make you happy.” 

Levi gently cups your face to reestablish eye contact. The look on his face is everything you could have possibly dreamed of - Happy and relaxed. Maybe even in love. “You do make me happy,” he whispers to you. 

He pulls you down for a kiss. It's slow and measured and absolutely perfect. You hum as you separate and settle back against his chest. 

“Levi?” You ask after a scant few minutes have passed. 

“Yes?” 

“Can we still get candied apples tomorrow?” 

He laughs and you feel it reverberate through his chest. You can’t help the grin that the sound of his happiness draws from you and bury your head between his pectorals, eager to hear more. 

He knew it's only a matter of time before he caves in, he just didn’t think it would be all because of a photograph a customer left on a table in the tea shop. It’s a stolen shot of a woman on stage, of you, caught mid-dance in a crouch, looking so confident in the sexiest lingerie set he's ever seen. Fuck, he doesn’t even remember seeing anyone this attractive in neither the pleasure houses in The Underground, nor in the ones in the more prospering towns in Paradis. Even in grayscale you look beautiful, like a goddess, so fucking perfect. He’s never been this interested, this affected, by a woman before, and the image of you burns in his brain the longer he stares at it. He’s got to see you, in person, and if luck is on his side, the signage written in elegant cursive on the wall behind you is the clue to where he’ll find you.

Venus is located at the heart of Marley’s thriving pleasure district, along with the more expensive clubs swarmed by the wealthy. He expected no less, with a face seemingly sculpted by a god, of course you’d be working in one of these luxurious clubs. Unlike the clubs in the outer section of the pleasure district, the walls here are clean of posters, decorated only with neon lights that cast a deep blue glow on the snow-covered ground. Bouncers stand tall on each side of the double doors, neither sparing a glance at Levi as he’s let inside. Dim blue lights illuminated the whole interior of the club, fading out every few seconds that he begins struggling to see where he’s walking. The air is thick with smoke and perfume, and a low hum of conversation thrums beneath the seductive melody of piano and strings. There is a mini bar at the far side of the club, crowded with men dressed in suits, all facing the stage to watch the dancers while twirling glasses of liquor in their hands. More men in suits, decades older than the women who are latched onto their chests, occupy the two long L-shaped leather couches facing towards the platform, where they’re offered the closest view of female strippers gyrating on the stage.

Eyes flicker to Levi, scrutinizingly as if they recognize his face. With the broken eye and a scar on his face, he knows he’s bound to catch attention, that someone perceptive would realize he was once a soldier. Even with the armbands discontinued, he looks so out of place it’s obvious he isn’t from Marley at all.

He shouldn’t be here. He’s not meant to be here.

And yet, he moves forward.

By the time Levi secures a booth at the far back of the club, the performance has ended and the women have gone to tables to personally entertain their guests. He deposits his cane against the wall, its presence a welcome company in a place that feels like a den of wolves.

A tall redhead hostess tends to him sooner than he expected, passing him the menu.

“Hello, handsome. Who ‘ya here for?”

He considers asking about you, maybe showing your picture to be sure, but he decides against it. No. Fucking no. That would make him look like a creep because why would he have a picture of you and not know you?

He decides to get a beer instead, feeling a little pathetic when he catches her eyeing him for a few seconds longer, waiting for something else—someone’s name—to leave his mouth.

“Sure,” she acknowledges and leaves.

Levi leans back in the worn leather booth, arms crossed while catching bits and pieces of conversations around him—men bragging about their rather superficial accomplishments and women giggling with feigned admiration in response, slender fingers caressing chests, arms, or thighs with fake devotion. Glasses and bottles clink against the tables, never empty of alcohol for more than ten seconds. Somewhere, a door closes and the blinds shut for an act meant to be seen only in private.

The sound of heels clacking against the floor pulls him out of his thoughts. Then a bottle appears on his table, already opened but with the cap left clinging to the mouth. 

“Here ‘ya go, handsome. Holler when you’re ready for another.” The hostess, whose nameplate reads Emily, winks at him before turning to leave.

He grabs the bottle, distantly wondering the last time he had a drink. Somehow, he can’t even remember the taste of alcohol, but once he takes a swig, memories come crashing into him, like ocean waves recklessly filling his mind—drinking in a pub after a mission, welcoming new recruits who look like they’re ready to shit their pants, a surprise birthday celebration for him even when he doesn’t really celebrate.

Thirty minutes and three beers later, the stage lights begin to dim, the deep blue turning to red and then to purple. A silhouette appears on stage, a woman illuminated by the dim lights that emphasize her curves and what little she wears. Levi straightens up and turns to his side to get a better view, unsure if it’s still the alcohol that makes him feel like he’s been suddenly set on fire.

The first drop of note brings a hushed, curious whisper among the crowd, eyes set on the woman who walks towards the pole, each step accompanied by a sensual melody of orchestral strings and piano. 

Fuck. It’s as if you stepped out of that picture, just as perfect as he remembers. 

The black lingerie dress you’re wearing clings to your curves, flowing delicately around your thighs and shimmering with every sway of your hips. Men salivate like mad dogs when you crouch and spread your knees apart, staring with wide eyes as if you’re already naked in their perverted minds. You climb up the pole effortlessly, as if the metal is one with your body, arching your back and head thrown back with your hair spilling down smoothly like silky curtains. Like a moth drawn to flame, Levi finds himself leaning forward, wishing he’s seated somewhere closer, somewhere you will easily spot him. The music starts to fade. You slowly descend the pole. You blow a kiss to the crowd and leave the stage with the same grace as when you entered.

The club walls turn to blue once more.

Fuck. How long did you dance? That fucking felt like it hasn’t even been a minute.

Silence lingers, as if your presence remains on stage, still demanding attention. Levi doesn’t realize the music has stopped until someone from the crowd whistles.

What the fucking hell.

You’re trouble.

Levi finishes his remaining beer and calls for the bill. When the hostess comes, he asks, “does she dance every night?”

“Ahuh,” she answers with a knowing smile. “Wanna table her?”

Who would be stupid to say no?

He pays up and starts to leave. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, handsome. See you tomorrow!”

—---------------------------—

He shouldn’t have kept the fucking picture. He should’ve burnt it last night.

It’s distracting. Even when it’s safely tucked in the inside pocket of his coat.

It’s so unlike him to be distracted, but, oh, he absolutely is for the most part of the day. He even nearly burnt his hand while making a batch of tea. Even the kids are surprised.

It isn’t his plan to come back, not immediately at least, but with how your photo’s mere existence fucks up his system, he knows he’s got to see you again. In person. Because his filthy imagination isn’t enough. When he closes his eyes, he sees your graceful dancing and imagines you doing it just for him, in front of dozens of men who would die to be him. He pictures himself sitting on a chair, right ankle over left knee, arms spread over the backrest, while you’re dressed in that black lingerie that you’ll slowly get rid of, all while swaying your hips and spreading your knees for him. He remembers the way you climbed up the pole, how your hair spilled down smoothly when you arched your back. He remembers how each sway of your hips seemingly casted a spell on the whole room.

He still feels that spell on him.

It still makes him hard.

Fuck. He desperately needs to see you again.

He counts the hours down to the minutes until it’s finally time to close the tea shop. He even sends Gabi and Falco home two hours earlier (“It’s Saturday anyway,”) so that he could leave just as early himself.

Has he been this eager to see a woman in his younger years? Probably not. Women, nor sex, were the least of his concerns back then.

Now, you’re taking up more space in his mind than he’d like.

The pleasure district is even livelier tonight, especially the cheap ones in the outer section. Despite the thick snow blanketing the pavement, people walk around the area as if they’re in a park. Levi trudges down the path that leads further into the pleasure district, the direction now a little too familiar to his liking.

Venus. Levi reads the bright sign, a glaring blue that makes the snow look more sapphire than white.

The club has more clients than last night, but this time, Levi manages to find an empty table that’s facing the stage, just behind the L-shaped couches.

He hears footsteps, fast approaching, and then: “You’re back!” Emily greets happily, as if she knew he would really come back, and passes the menu to him. “Gonna table her tonight?”

Hope so, he thinks. But what he says is: “I’ll have the same drink.”

“You’re boring,” she teases, nose scrunched up as she walks away.

Fuck, he does want to table you, so fucking badly. He wants to have you for himself.

But he’s also scared. He’s scared he’ll disappoint you. He doesn’t have the same energy nor strength he used to have before, and he fears he’ll finish rather quickly since he’s no longer used to the feeling. He’s so fucking pathetic. His knees will keep trembling and give out after a few minutes, and even if he goes bottom, he’ll certainly end up being a fucking starfish. He can’t fuck you the way you’d want to be fucked. Heck, he wouldn’t be able to fuck you the way he wants to.

He doesn’t want to disappoint you.

He’s not the person who’d fulfill your sexual desires.

The slamming of a bottle on the table yanks him out of his trance.

“Let me know if ‘ya changed your mind.” Still frowning, she starts to leave.

“Wait!”

She turns, looking rather hopeful.

“What’s her name?”

Her lips turn up in a playful smirk. Levi’s anticipation shoots up to the roof as Emily leans forward and says, “ask her yourself, handsome.”

Fuck.

He lets out a loud tch that makes the hostess laugh. Of course, it won’t be that easy. 

He takes a long swig, one after another, and the next thing he knows, he’s already finished his fourth bottle, and he still hasn’t seen you yet. 

Crap. Was he too early? Or did Emily fucking lie to him? Did you suddenly take the day off? It’s the weekend after all, why didn’t he think that? He should’ve known better than to waste his time. Should’ve just gone home instead and jerked off at the thought of you.

This is pathetic. He’s pathetic.

He orders another beer—his last—then he’s going home.

The lights suddenly dim, the stage completely dark. Levi sets his eye on the platform in anticipation. There’s nothing at first, and the chatter around him continues as if the sudden darkness is a normal occurrence.

Deep down he knows it isn’t. Deep in his guts he knows you’re somewhere out there.

And then, movements. A silhouette climbing the short set of stairs onto the platform. Red lights fill the stage from all sides, bottom to top, like an inverted spotlight.

And then, there you are, in the middle, dressed in just a black lace bustier with matching underwear.

That’s even less than what you were wearing last night.

His eye moves up to your face, and fuck, you’re like a model straight out of a painting, born out of a man’s wildest imagination, a whispered sin turned flesh.

Goddammn, he wants you so badly it hurts.

The music starts, slow and sensual. When you start to dance, everyone stops to watch. You sway your hips to the music, hands roaming all over your own body, squeezing and feeling yourself. You lower yourself to a crouch oh-so-slowly until you’re on all fours. You lean in towards the man closest to the stage, looking at him with come-hither eyes. He eagerly lifts his face to meet yours, you hold him by the chin with just your index finger and tease him with a near-kiss. The man giggles stupidly. Levi wants to hit him in the head with a beer bottle. You continue dancing, teasing everyone near the stage, be it a man or a woman, with lingering caresses and near kisses.

And then, you take your bustier off, letting it dangle by a finger before dropping to the ground.

A whistle rings from the crowd.

Levi’s fingers twitch. Fuck. What he would do for even a simple touch.

A bottle of beer appears on his table, but his eye remains on you.

“Enjoying yourself, handsome?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but stops when you crouch on the platform again, exposing the insides of your thighs.

His mouth waters.

You kneel on the floor, sitting on your heels, hands pressing your tits together. When a man reaches to touch your knees, you slap his hand away and sway an admonishing finger at him.

“She chooses her man,” Emily murmurs in his ear. 

The fuck. He didn’t even realize she’s still there. He feels uncomfortable, unsure which one Emily is watching, your performance or him slowly losing his shit.

‘How do I table her then,’ is all he could think of… until it isn’t. 

His breath catches in his throat.

“I knew it!” Emily whisper-shouts, as if she just won a bet. She slaps Levi on the shoulder and leaves him choking on air.

It can’t be. His stupid eye must be playing tricks on him.

You found him. Across the room. Dozens of faces in the crowd, and yet, it’s his face your eyes fall upon. When he meets your eyes, you respond with a smirk. You fucking smirk and his brain short circuits. He is fucking melting.

He crosses his knees, uncomfortable. It won’t be long before he’s fucking tenting.

You continue dancing, never leaving the stage, glancing at Levi occasionally. If he’s a dog he’d be frothing at the mouth right now—fuck, if he is a dog he’d be pouncing on you right at this fucking moment, claiming territory.

The music stops abruptly. The lights turn blue. You disappear, leaving him hungrier, thirstier than ever.

He takes a long swig of the beer, stopping only when his throat starts to burn. It doesn’t help.

He needs more. He needs something more. Something else and more.

He calls for the bill, payment already in his hands.

“Enjoyed the show tonight?” asks Emily.

“Yes.” There’s no use in lying. He got more than what he hoped for.

He gets up and leaves.

“See you tomorrow!”

—---------------------------—

He’s supposed to be closed on Sundays, but he needs something to distract himself from you.

But alas! It’s not fucking working! First of all, every time the door opens and he turns, he’s hoping to see you coming in.

It’s a lost cause. He’s going insane.

Whatever he’s doing, there’s a stubborn voice in his head that won’t stop reminding him you chose him.

You chose him, it says while he prepares a batch of tea.

You chose him, while he watches a customer deliberate on their order.

You chose him, even when he’s the least attractive person in that fucking club. But then again, with a face like his, he’s bound to attract attention. Maybe that’s why you caught sight of him. It’s his stark difference from the others.

You chose him, is all he could think of as he closes the shop not even an hour after lunch time to hide in the stockroom and jerk off.

‘She chooses her man,’ Emily said.

You locked eyes with him. You smirked.

He comes undone.

He stays in the stockroom, pondering over how pathetic he is. 

The shop remains closed for the rest of the day.

.

He’s certain he meant to head home, but he finds himself standing outside Venus later that evening. The club is still packed like last night, but he finds a recently vacated table facing the stage. Is luck on his side? He’d be fucking elated if it is.

A different hostess tends to him tonight.

He waits for you with a beer in hand.

This isn’t healthy—drinking, you. You’re not healthy for him. He’s got to stop before he loses himself completely. And between the alcohol and a certain woman, he’s sure the latter would be the first to intoxicate him and bring him to a fucking coma.

He grabs for his wallet, deciding it's time to leave, but then the lights dim and turn to citrine, and he knows he’s a second too late.

He can’t decide if it’s a good thing or not.

You’re dressed in another lingerie set, a black net babydoll lingerie that does little to hide the matching G-string you’re wearing.

Levi doesn’t understand why he’s so hooked when it’s literally the same dance. The same hips movements, hands sliding over your own curves, squeezing and feeling, and exposing. Anybody can fucking do that, any woman in this damn bar can wear the same obscene clothes and perform the same dance, so why?

Why can’t he take his eye off you? Why can’t he calm his pounding heart and throbbing cock?

He downs his beer to clear his mind of you.

The music stops. You leave the stage, but instead of disappearing to the back, you walk gracefully down the short set of stairs towards the crowd.

Towards him.

His lips are parted by the time you reach him, his head thrown back a little to keep his eye locked with yours.

He realizes that even when you’re barefoot, you’re damn tall.

You sit from across him, and he couldn’t help but feel a little smug when he hears the stunned gasps and envious growls of men around him. He catches a strong whiff of vanilla as you lean in closely, chin propped at the back of your interlaced fingers.

“Hi, Cutie.”

Gotta be cool. Gotta keep his fucking cool.

“I didn’t ask for you.”

“You did not,” you purr, eyes glued to his face as your finger traces around the mouth of his beer bottle. “That doesn’t mean you don’t want me here.”

Fuck. You sound so sure, and you’re not wrong. Has he been that obvious?

You smile, bringing the bottle to your mouth for a drink.

He watches your lips, then your throat that bobs as you swallow the alcohol. Nothing appropriate comes into his fucking mind.

“Why are you here?” he asks. Why did you pick me? Why me?

“Why are you here?” you ask back, lips turned up in a curious yet knowing smile.

His brow twitches. Are all the women here this bad at answering properly?

“To drink.”

You hum, unconvinced. “Want a room?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

“Pretty sure I’m not,” you pout.

He sighs.

“Does Cutie have a name?”

“It’s Levi.”

“Levi,” you murmur, as if his name is wine and you’re tasting it on your tongue. He watches you take another drink of his beer, eyes locked with him in a challenge as you put the bottle on the table and then nudge it towards him.

He takes the beer and drinks everything you left for him.

You smile, your scarlet painted lips turning up into the prettiest curve he’s ever seen. 

“Well, Levi. They call me Venus, but…” you pause, looking him in the eye. You tell him your real name and a promise to see him tomorrow.

—---------------------------—

There’s a different dancer the next night. She’s nothing compared to you, her movements nothing special that did not excite Levi even a tiny bit.

Well, he may be a little biased.

Emily said you’re in the club, but he hasn’t seen you yet. Maybe you found another man to entertain, someone who appreciates your attention and flirts back with you.

The thought brings an uneasy feeling in his guts, but he wouldn’t blame you, not after how he treated you last night.

He’s so stupid he wants to smack his head with the bottle of beer.

He remembers the indirect kiss you shared last night, your lips as they wrapped around the mouth of the bottle, your throat as you swallowed the drink. It did things to his brain, flooding him with images of his cock in your mouth, taking all of him down your throat obediently.

And then, as if his thoughts have summoned you into reality, he catches sight of you walking out of the dressing room, wrapped in a shimmering gold mini mesh dress that looks rather uncomfortable to wear, the low neckline exposing the valley between your chest, your nipples erect and poking at the flimsy material. Men call for you to join them in their couches, inviting you for a drink, but it’s as if you don’t hear them, only walking past them and towards Levi. You sit across from him, tickling his nostrils yet again with your sickly-sweet perfume. You prop your elbows on the table, fingers laced together under your chin and lean forward.

“Ready to get a room, Cutie?”

Levi keeps his eyes trained on your face. “Why me?”

You drink from his beer before answering, “why not?”

“I’m handicapped,” he points out.

“It doesn’t matter.” You give him back the drink.

He grabs the bottle, but his fingers only tighten around the glass. “I’ll just bore you.”

“Honey,” you purr, lightly brushing the back of his knuckles with your fingers. “I’m not the one who needs entertainment.”

He lifts his face to look you in the eyes. He doesn’t know what you see, but it makes you smile and get up from your seat, taking his hand into yours.

He grabs his cane and lets you drag him out of the lounge area.

The private room is nothing grand. Dim yellow lights illuminate the room from four corners. Red velvet lines the walls, the floor covered in black rug. In the middle is a queen-sized bed with crimson pillows and blankets that smell strongly of detergent, as if the whole thing has been dipped in it during laundry.

You lock the door, and the loud click only makes his heart beat more frantically in his chest. With the blinds already shut, you walk to him who’s already seated on the bed, sitting yourself on his lap, arms draped over his shoulders.

“Not gonna dance for me?” He dares ask.

You let out a low, seductive chuckle that makes his cock throb. “Sorry. I got excited.” You drag a finger down his nose, the sensation sending static through his nerves, before separating yourself from him, taking a few steps away from him. Then you start to dance, slow and seductive, each sway of your hips whispering sinful melodies in his ears, turning his brain into mush and sending all the blood rushing south. His eye follows your hands as they slide down your body, and his pants get tighter with every movement you make, wishing it's his own hands roaming all over your skin instead. You let the straps slide off your shoulders, one after the other, turning your back to him as the dress drops to a pool of shimmering gold around your feet. Such a fucking tease, keeping those bare tits from his sight. 

You look over your shoulder, smirking. “Like what you’re seeing so far?” Your fingers slip under the strings of your underwear and slowly pull it down.

This time, he doesn’t stop himself from licking his lips. Doesn’t stop himself from staring at your pair of plump cheeks. He allows himself to watch closely as you bend low, keeping your ass up in the air, putting your ass hole and cunt on display as you take your heels off, both holes twitching with the need to feel him, to swallow him whole.

Fuck, how did he get so lucky to be rewarded with this?

He fists the blanket, desperate to start pumping himself.

You walk towards him, and he leans back as you climb into his lap again, afraid to touch you, afraid that his hideous hands would break you. You grind into his hips, and a soft growl escapes his throat, pulling a satisfied smile from you.

“Anything I need to be careful of?” 

“J-just the knee,” he says through gritted teeth.

You smile innocently. “Okay.”

“And… n–no sex,” he forces out.

Your face falls, but only for a second. “As you wish.”

Idiot! He’s such an idiot!

You get off him to help him pull his feet up on the mattress. Levi crawls on his back to the middle of the bed while you work on removing his shoes. Lips parted and breathing shallow, he watches you get on all fours above him, crawling up to meet him in the middle, one hand unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly open with practiced ease, leaving him in only his shirt and coat.

Shit, shit, shit.

He’s gonna cum fast, he can tell.

Shit!!

“Relax, Levi,” you chuckle.

Fuck.

How? How can he relax when your fingers are wrapped around his cock, smearing pre-cum all over the head with your thumb? How can he relax when it feels too good, he thinks he’ll ejacultae prematurely? That would fucking kill the mood.

“Why are you so nervous?” you murmur, mouth so close to his ear your hot breath tickles him. You start stroking with a firm squeeze, and fuck, the words die in his throat.

It feels so good his fingers and toes curl in at the pleasure.

You chuckle at his flushed face. “Got so used to your own hands that you forgot how a woman feels?”

“F–fuck!” Is all he manages to utter.

“You’re so pretty, Levi,” you purr, voice dripping with honey it sticks his lips together, rendering him speechless.

He’s fucking close, but he can’t! He can’t just yet. Too soon!

You drag your fingers down his length oh so slowly, squeezing the veins, each stroke adding more pressure to the ache that’s building between his legs.

Levi lets out a tiny whimper. He’s never felt this good in forever.

“Mhm, feels good?” You moan, and he forces a quick nod in answer. “Gonna come for me then?”

“Yes!”

“Good boy. As a reward…” You quicken your pace and stroke him faster.  

“Ah!” Shit! So close, but not yet! Not yet not yet not yet!

“Now, now, don’t stop it.”

“I—”

“Or do you want me to take you in my mouth instead?”

The image of your pretty red lips wrapped around his cock flashes before his eyes and suddenly, the pressure snaps like a coil, erupting with a sensation that jolts through every nerve in his body. He grabs your waist and bucks his hips up into your fist, spurting thick ropes of semen on his shirt. You giggle, stroking him fast through his orgasm. It feels so good he’s gonna fucking pass out.

“Ahh,” he sighs, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. “Fuck, shit– okay, okay. I–” His grip tightens, carving crescents into your skin. “Too much, brat, too m–much!”

You giggle at the pet name, letting go of his twitching cock. He watches you bring your hand to your mouth to lick the beads of cum that are sticking to your fingers.

“Shit,” he pants, the intensity of his orgasm rendering his whole body into a trembling mess.

You brush away the fringes that are sticking to his forehead. “Can I kiss you?”

‘What?!’ screams his brain, while his mouth blurts out “y–yeah.”

You hold his chin gently and kiss him tenderly, and he closes his eyes and returns the kiss.

Fuck. You’re so, so good for him.

You’re smiling when you pull away, and then you start pressing a trail of soft sucking kisses from his neck down to his clothed chest.

“What are you doing?” He murmurs, looking down at where your tongue is licking at his spoiled shirt.

You only meet his half-lidded gaze with a smile as you continue to where more of his cum are spilled, licking him clean, sending his cock twitching and leaking pre-cum once more, stealing your attention.

“Looks like you’re ready for another round,” you murmur, planting a teasing lick at his frenulum, causing a moan to escape his throat. 

“Wait—”

You wrap your lips around the head, and he chokes out a strangled moan, throwing his head back into the mattress. When you suck the pre-cum from the swollen head, it feels like his cock is going to explode. His fingers grip the sheets tightly, right heel shoved into the mattress and toes curling as you trace along a vein with the tip of your tongue.

“N–no! Stop!”

You pull away with a little frown on your face that fills his chest with shame.

“Alright,” you concur, lying on your side next to him. You prop your elbow on the mattress, lifting your head to kiss his shoulder. “Felt good?”

A sharp breath escapes his mouth. “Awesome.”

You smile, kissing his shoulder again, hand roaming all over his chest and stomach.

“Stop doing that,” he scolds heatlessly.

“Why? Don’t you like it?” You tease, twirling a nipple. He grabs your hand, holding it still. Your hand settles on his chest instead, your head on his shoulder.

No. This is too intimate.

“I should head home.”

He can’t get used to this.

“You sure? You really don’t want me to blow you?”

He’s fucking not. He doesn’t want to go home. He wants you. All of you. He wants everything you could give him tonight.

Had you insisted some more, he would’ve said yes eventually.

He sits up. You take it as your cue to get up and gather his clothes for him.

He can’t get used to this. He’s here only for the sex after all.

Sex he was so stupid to say no to.

—---------------------------—

He’s decided. For fucking real. He’s going to stick to his own hands. Whatever happened last night should only stay as a one-night stand, sex or no sex.

Now that he thinks about it, it's good that nothing happened between the two of you. That way, he’s less regretful.

Huh. Whatever happened to no regrets?

It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have gone to the club in the first place. He should’ve been content with his own hands.

Now, he’s aching for more.

A heavy sigh escapes through his nose while he stares at the falling snow outside, unaware of Gabi and Falco watching him from behind, with the former elbowing the latter and urging him towards Levi. The blond kid sucks in a breath and steps forward just as Levi turns away from the door. Gabi scrambles away, pretending to clean the nearest table, leaving Falco fidgeting and chuckling awkwardly in front of Levi.

He raises a brow. “What?”

“Well,” Falco scratches at the nape of his neck, “there’s this holiday bazaar at the town plaza from today until the last day of December. We were wondering if you’d want to come with us.”

Gabi clears her throat. “What Falco wants to say is, come with us! It’ll be fun!”

“I’ll think about it,” he answers dismissively, walking back to the counter.

She groans openly, flinging her hands in the air in frustration. “Levi, come on, you never go anywhere besides the tea shop. Don’t you ever get bored of it?”

“No,” he answers flatly.

Bored? He’s been busy every night. Heck, he’s busy even during the day obsessing over a certain woman.

“Ughh!” Gabi throws the wiping cloth to the table.

“Told you he’d say no,” Falco murmurs.

“Actually…”

The kids turn to him in curious anticipation.

Going to that stupid holiday bazaar will keep him from going to the club. It will keep him distracted.

Hopefully.

“Fine. I’ll join you two tonight.”

“Really?!” Gabi asks, grinning widely. Falco only blinks, unable to grasp the fact that he just said yes to them.

“That damn bazaar better not be a waste of time,” he grumbles, a small smile making its way to his lips at the sight of Gabi doing a little happy dance and Falco answering with two thumbs up.

.

Well… it’s good that he didn’t expect too much because there is nothing interesting in this damn bazaar. 

Large festoon lights hang across the areas and on the roofs of the stalls, filling the place with bright still lights. It’s too crammed in there, with stalls on each side and people walking in different directions, blocking the already narrow path whenever they’d look over a display a little longer. There’s also a designated picnic area with long tables, but all are occupied. And those that aren’t are filled with empty food packs and juice cups that make Levi’s blood boil.

Falco buys them each a cup of hot chocolate, while Gabi buys cake pops in the shape of stars to eat while walking aimlessly around the bazaar. Levi looks over at each bazaar selling various items, some offering snacks, while the others sell trinkets. There are a few that sell holiday decorations, and even fewer that sell antique items. There’s one stall that sells scented candles, with some jars opened for smell tests. 

Gabi picks one up and takes a sniff. Then a few more others before her face lights up. “This smells great!” She passes the candle jar to Falco, who takes a quick sniff before passing it to Levi.

He receives the jar and reluctantly brings it to his nose.

It smells just like you.

What the fucking fuck.

“Ah, that’s our best seller, Vanilla! Burns up to sixty hours and with a good throw, I guarantee,” the merchant says with an encouraging smile.

He turns the jar around to see the label. Citrus peel, fresh cream, cocoa, sandalwood, vanilla beans— he quickly puts the jar back to the display rack.

Not now. Not now!

He turns away, missing the confused blinking of the merchant, and comes face to face with a small stall selling lingeries, causing him to choke on his saliva. Why the fuck are lingeries being sold in a Christmas bazaar?!

Falco whips his head around, turning in the direction where a shout could be heard. “There’s Onyan!”

The kids rush to where Onyankopon is waiting. Levi follows… after he double takes at a perfume stall, thinking he caught a glimpse of you.

So much for keeping himself distracted from you.

The kids manage to secure a picnic table, where they catch up with Onyankopon while eating the pastries he bought from one of the stalls around. These days he’s been so busy doing community work and helping in the hospital that he rarely has the time to visit the tea shop.

“How about you, Levi? Have you been busy with anything else besides the tea shop?”

His brow twitches at the question. “Why do you all expect me to be busy with anything else beside the tea shop?”

Onyankpon shares a confused look with the kids, who only respond with a shrug.

“Well, there’s this nurse at the clinic who keeps asking about you. Think she saw you during one of your follow-up checkups.

“And?”

Gabi smacks her face. “It means someone has a crush on you, old man!”

“And?”

“The kids just want you to have a little fun, Levi,” Onyankopon chuckles.

“I am having fun,” he says with a deadpan tone.

Falco eyes him for a second. “Sure, you are.”

“You are turning forty next week, Levi!” Gabi exclaims, crossing her arms. “Get laid for once.”

Levi chokes on his bread. Onyankopon laughs out loud. Falco passes him a bottle of water, looking rather embarrassed on his behalf.

If only these three know what he’s been up to recently.

If they only knew what’s keeping him awake at night, what keeps him lying helplessly in bed, keeping his mind occupied.

—---------------------------—

The tea shop looks a little too festive to his liking, but he doesn’t say it out loud. He lets the kids do what they want to the shop. They helped establish it after all.

Earlier this morning, Onyankopon dropped by with a phonograph, something to ‘spruce up’ the cafe, he said. Gabi and Falco arrived carrying boxes of holiday decorations but didn’t start putting them up until after lunch time. Now, with only two hours before closing, the cafe looks livelier and brighter. Gabi has finished decorating the interior with garlands and fairy lights and has started working on the outside with Falco’s help. There’s a wreath on the door, and more garlands and fairy lights hang over the window trims outside, giving a warm glow to the shop’s dull brick walls.

Levi is about finished with organizing the teacup cabinet, assuming there won’t be any more customers arriving towards the end of the day. He carefully wipes every cup, ensuring there’s not any tea residue, before putting them on the cabinet, when the chime rings and the door creaks open. He catches three different voices, women chattering about some foreign country, and then Gabi’s as she welcomes them to the shop.

“Do we place our orders at the counter or…”

Levi pauses, recognizing the voice.

“You can sit and relax. I’ll get the menu for you.” Gabi rushes to the counter afterwards, where the menu booklets are already neatly stacked together.

“Thank you. You’re such a sweetheart.”

Now that is a very familiar voice, one that just made his heart skip a beat and his hands cold.

He refuses to look, afraid he’d fold the moment he sees your smile. Fuuuuck. There are so many other tea shops around, so why here? He knew this would happen, that there’s a chance you’d discover this place but come on, does it really have to be now when he’s trying to avoid you?

Gabi grins at the praise, tells them to call her once they’re ready to order, before going back to the counter, sidling up to his side. “Levi, they’re so pretty!!!” She whispers loudly.

He starts the kettle.

“One of them keeps looking at you,” she says, stubbornly tugging at the sleeve of his jacket while glancing at your table. “Levi, you have another admirer! And you haven’t even shown your face yet! And she’s so pretty! How lucky could you be, having girls swoon after you?!” Gabi giggles teasingly and elbows him. “You should ask her out!”

“Shut the fuck up,” he grumbles, cheeks heating and brow twitching as Gabi continues to tug at his jacket. “Brat, stop.”

Levi hears you calling Gabi back. She quickly grabs her notepad and leaves to get your orders. He listens to you talk, realizes he prefers hearing your voice like this, sweet and innocent—not that he doesn’t like it when you’re all seductive and flirty with him. He wants to be friends with you, talk to you about the most random things, and maybe take you to that stupid holiday bazaar one of these nights to eat pastries and hot chocolates, and maybe you buy something for Christmas.

But of course, he can’t do that if he’s trying to stay away from you, can he? How stupid can he be to be talking about such a chance when he’s the one deliberately avoiding you?

He listens to you place your orders, committing the sound of your voice into memory, thinking this might be the last time he’d ever see or hear you again. “...Cucumber mint for Emily,” you continue, pronouncing her name a little loudly and in a sing-song voice.

Levi lets out a little smirk. Is it that easy for you to spot him?

You turn to Gabi after a short moment of consideration, asking what she’d recommend to you. “Do you have something like a ‘tea of the day’? Or… what does the tea barista like?” You ask, glancing at his back.

“We haven’t thought about that yet, but Levi is obsessed with black tea!”

He flinches.

“Levi,” you murmur, sharing a look with Emily.

“Ahuh! He likes everything in the black tea section.”

Levi bites back a groan and pinches the bridge of his nose.

You hum, turning the booklet to the said section to look over at the flavors. “Okay. I’d like to try the Orchid Vanilla,” you say, looking up at Gabi with a knowing smile. “I hope this Levi likes vanilla.”

He nearly drops the can of loose tea leaves. 

Crap. You know, don’t you?

The tea leaves are already being steeped as Gabi approaches with the order slip, but it doesn’t surprise her anymore, knowing he would’ve taken note of it himself, being the efficient person that he is. A few minutes later, Gabi serves the drinks and goes back outside to help Falco with the rest of the decorations. Levi sits with his back facing your group, head low and arms crossed, unable to stop himself from listening to the three of you gush about how good the tea is before taking a sip from each other’s cups for a taste. Emily starts asking questions about France, which apparently leads Levi to the knowledge that Layla, the other lady you are with, was in another country when the Tumbling happened, returning home only two months ago. Levi learns that she used to work at Venus before she got married and had two kids.

“How about you two? How have you been?” Layla turns to you with a regretful look. “I’m so sorry about Clive.”

You let out a small smile. “It was inevitable.”

Levi lifts his face at the sound of your voice.

“Honestly, I thought he would’ve left the army right after your engagement.”

You swallow, lowering your face to avoid her eyes. “He was going to, but the war happened before he could do it.” You meet her gaze with a forced smile. “He died doing what he loves.”

Layla reaches for your hand and squeezes it. “So… you’re back to Venus?” 

“I never left,” you answer, then take a sip of your tea, happy to be talking about something else.

“She is Venus,” Emily exclaims with a sway of her hand towards you. “Her leaving would be the club’s downfall!”

Hmm. So, it isn’t a coincidence at all, your stage name being Venus.

A sip of tea, and then in a hushed tone Emily adds, “drove the floor manager crazy because she only danced. Didn’t take any VIPs…” she pauses, looking at you meaningfully, “not until a few nights ago.” She ends with a quick glance at the man behind the counter. You bite back a smile, holding yourself back from looking in the same direction.

“Being the baby sister really has its perks, huh?” Oblivious to the exchange of glances, Layla teases good-naturedly, poking at your shoulder and earning a small laugh from you. She asks about ‘this new VIP’ you have, and you suffer from more teasing when you refuse to share anything more than “he’s a gentleman.”

Levi couldn’t help but smirk at himself derisively. He’s many things but a gentleman.

It’s amusing how easily you get flustered, even more when Emily joins the teasing. If he hadn’t met you in a club and had your hands and lips all over him, he wouldn’t think you’re a stripper. With how your friends’ relentless teasing reduced you to a blushing and stuttering mess, you look and sound so different from that woman who confidently danced on stage and stole every man’s breath, so different from that woman who wrecked him so deliciously.

There’s a gasp from your table, followed by the chair scraping the floor.  Levi turns to find Layla scrambling to get her purse in panic.

“Oh my, I forgot about the kids!” she exclaims, laughing. “School ended half an hour ago already.”

You grab your purse as you stand up. “You guys go ahead. Drinks on me.”

“What?” Layla blinks. “Are you– okay. Next time’s on me!” She pulls you into a tight hug and kisses you on the cheek. “I missed you so much.” Then to Emily, “and you too. We should do this more often.”

“Agreed,” Emily replies. Then she turns to you, glancing at Levi in the process, and says, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Oh, shit.

‘Keep calm,’ he tells himself as you approach the counter, waiting for the sound of the door closing before greeting him a quiet “hi,” looking at him as if there’s more you want to say besides that. Up close you’re even prettier, with minimal makeup and wearing more clothes than everything that he’s seen on you the first few times he’s seen you. 

He blurts out a “h–hey,” realizing it almost slipped his mind to greet you back.

“I’ll pay for the drinks.” You let out a smile that makes his heart skip a beat. 

He glances at the order slip in front of him. “It’s fine. On the house.”

What the heck just got into him?

“What? No! Let me pay, please.” 

Fuck. He couldn’t stop staring at you.

“Fine,” he relents, snatching the bill from the stack and passing it to you.

Outside the shop, three pairs of eyes watch the interaction closely through the hazy window.

“Didn’t peg you for someone who’d own a tea shop,” you jest, and he only answers with a good-natured huff. “Tea’s good. Loved the black tea and vanilla combination.” 

Goddamn, why won’t his mouth open? What does he fucking say to that?

He receives your payment, and before he could start counting your change, you tell him to keep it for the kids’ tip jar and leave.

He wants to bang his head on the counter.

—---------------------------—

Maybe a phonograph isn’t a bad idea like Gabi suggests. It’s too quiet at the shop, with the kids unavailable due to community service with Onyankopon, and there’s only one customer at the moment, an old and mute lady who drops by every other day and stays for hours to drink tea and read a book in peace.

He’s going insane—two days without seeing you feels like fucking eternity. That’s what he feels as he stares into space behind the counter, hands aching to get your picture from his purse so he could look at something else—something much more interesting. The old lady glances his way when he lets out a deep sigh, resorting to scribbling notes for ideas on new tea blends in an attempt to kick you out of his mind.

A couple of minutes later the chimes jingle, notifying him of a customer. Levi looks up to greet but the words dissolve in an instant.

He is most definitely going insane.

“Hi, Levi,” you greet, propping your arms on the counter.

This time, he manages to stay composed. “Hey.”

“Would you like to grab a cup of tea?” you ask with a sweet smile.

“I’m on duty,” he deadpans.

There’s a loud snort from the old lady’s direction, making you both turn to her.

You chuckle, looking back at Levi. “I’ll have the same,” you say, expecting he knows what ‘same’ is, before taking the table closest to the counter. You watch him work, moving behind the counter surprisingly quietly as he prepares the tea leaves while the water boils. He joins you when the drinks are done, taking a sip of his tea, eyes never straying from the pleased smile on your face as you take a sip of your own.

And then, silence. To his surprise, you keep avoiding his gaze for a while, looking uncertain of what to do next, and somehow, he couldn’t help but find it amusing. You wrap your fingers around the teacup, staring at the steam while worrying your bottom lip for another moment before finally breaking your silence. 

“Y–you didn’t come back… to the club…” you start, eyes flickering to his face then back to your tea. “Was it something I said? Or something I did?” His brows knit together, and you continue, “Didn’t I… didn’t I please you enough?”

“What?” Is all he manages to utter, unable to believe you feel that way—that he made you feel that way.

You shrug. “I just assumed.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he says with a snort.

There’s a small smile on your lips. “I only had two VIPs my whole life, the first being my late fiancé. My brother and I have an agreement that I’d only dance for the club. No one’s ever tabled me except Clive and…” you pause, looking up at him. “I don’t really know if I am that good enough.”

“You’re selling yourself short.”

You smile small. He can’t decide if you’re pleased with his answer. 

“Seeing you for the first time reminded me of Clive, looking so out of place in the club, as if you didn’t really mean to be there.”

And you aren’t wrong. He was only there because he wanted to see you with his own eyes.

You take a sip of your tea, eyes glued to the steam from it as you set the cup back on the table, fingers never peeling away from the hot ceramic. There’s a soft smile on your lips that makes Levi stare unintentionally, a shine in your eyes that shows him the memories as you recount them—you, dancing on stage, eyes glued to the unassuming soldier who was still in his uniform, sitting by himself in a booth with already a few bottles of empty beer on the table. Levi could totally see you approaching the soldier the same way you did him, in that confident and sexy gait of yours. You stayed even after being told he wasn’t there for women and had only wanted to drink. But he hadn’t pushed you away either, which led you to sitting comfortably across from him with your own beer, taking careful sips until you’ve had too much and couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. You asked him one thing about himself that he wouldn’t mind sharing, without expecting he would answer, yet he did, and so you told him something about yourself in return—he had been thinking about quitting from the army, and you were contemplating teaching in a ballet school. It became a routine, sharing pieces of yourselves to each other during his visits, finding a friend in the other, and ultimately finding comfort in each other’s arms. He proposed to you sooner than you both anticipated, and with it came his decision to finally pass his resignation. You would’ve gotten married months after that if only his resignation wasn’t rejected, which led him in having to join the war for his sworn duty, fulfilling his obligation to the country while breaking his promise of coming back to you.

An ache blooms in Levi’s chest at the silence that follows. The bitter smile on your face tells him a part of you is still mourning, and it fills him with anger, awakening his rage that has gone dormant in the past few years. You and Clive didn’t deserve what happened, none of the victims deserved losing someone they love to that pointless war.

If he could only turn back the time.

But then what? What could he have done differently to stop it? What could he have done differently to convince Eren against doing it?

And if he did, would he be here now? Would you be sitting across from him, asking why he hasn’t come back to the club?

Why hasn’t he come back to you?

‘Seeing you for the first time reminded me of Clive…’ 

Ah. He gets it now, why you have been so persistent to get him to bed you. That’s what this is—that’s what he is.

“I’m not Clive.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

The old lady instinctively closes her book in astonishment.

Your face twists in shock, voice coming out in a whisper, “what?”

“You can’t expect me to treat you the same way he did.”

He should’ve done better to stop the Rumbling. Clive shouldn’t have died.

“Levi… that’s not–”

“We were both soldiers but we’re not the same.” 

He’s worse. He let his comrades die. He killed his own people.

Your lips tremble. “That didn’t even cross my mind!”

The shaking of your voice washes away the anger that has quickly consumed him, and he forces his mouth shut. Don’t make it worse, he tells himself. Tears begin to well at your eyes, and the sound of you trying to hold them back makes him feel horrible. Goddamn, he fucked up. He shouldn’t have said that. Why did he even say that?

He opens his mouth to apologize but stops when he sees the look of understanding all over your face.

Your shoulders sag as you lower your gaze to your tea, somehow suddenly gone cold in your sweaty fingers. “You’re right,” you murmur.

Levi swallows. “I–”

You look up, meeting his eyes again, lips turned up in a forced smile that finally sends his heart shattering. You grab your purse, taking a bill out and putting it on the table as you get up on your feet. Levi follows, but you dismiss him with a shake of your head.

“Thank you for listening,” you say in a weak voice and immediately leave.

The old lady cries out in frustration the moment the door closes behind you. She throws her hands in the air in exasperation, moaning out what Levi assumes are curses before rolling her eyes and smacking her face.

“I know,” is all he could say.

Fuck. It isn’t his intention to hurt you, that’s the last thing he’d want to do. It’s the very reason why he said that.

—---------------------------—

He needs to make things right. He wants to make it up to you.

But how could he do it when you see him and yet act like you don’t know him at all?

You see him in the crowd, he’s pretty sure you did when you looked in his direction, but you didn’t acknowledge his presence at all, continuing to dance on stage with another stripper—a male stripper—letting him touch and squeeze your tits, his undeserving hands roaming all over your body and between your legs. You bend forward, grinding your ass against his pelvis, and Levi’s eyes darken with jealousy and rage.

Is this what he gets after how he treated you yesterday? Well, he fucking deserves it, doesn’t he?

The stripper turns you in his arms so that you’re facing him, and you slowly lower yourself into a crouch until your face is level with his co—

The hostess comes back to nothing but the menu, a half-empty bottle of beer, and a bill on the table.

—---------------------------—

Okay. Take two.

There’s a different male stripper you’re dancing with.

He can’t fucking stomach it.

—---------------------------—

Fuck. Take three.

He can’t fucking chicken out again.

You’re dancing with the same man as last night. He grits his teeth, watching you bend into a backward dip, eyes falling on him in an instant, a challenge for him to act, to redeem himself. Levi’s blood runs cold as he’s forced to watch the man’s mouth on your neck, planting sucking kisses on your skin. You straighten up, pushing him away as if it’s part of the choreography, then turn to look at Levi, hooking your finger inward as if beckoning him to come closer.

His beer arrives. Emily leans forward, mouth so close to his ear he could feel her hot breath against his skin. “Go on, handsome. You better not miss another chance.”

Levi doesn’t need to be told twice. He gets up in that instant, grabbing his cane, feeling a little too proudly as he walks to the stage. You let out a seductive smile as you lie on the stage on your stomach, elbows propped on the platform, chin resting at the back of your interlaced fingers to meet him at eye level.

“Have you finally come to your senses?”

He lets out a snort. “I’m sorry. I said stupid things to you.”

“It’s okay, Levi.” The weight on his shoulder vanishes when you smile. 

He lets out a relieved sigh. “Can I kiss you?”

You giggle, tugging him by the collar of his coat to pull him into a kiss, earning a loud collective gasp from the crowd. 

Levi blinks when you pull away, but he quickly recovers and asks, “ready to get a room?”

You grin, pulling yourself to a sitting position. Levi takes a step back as you swing your legs towards the edge of the stage, jumping out of the platform, heels clicking loudly against the floor. You take Levi’s hand, letting him lead you out of the dancing area and towards a vacant room. You close the door behind him, keeping eye contact for a few seconds longer after the soft click of the lock.

“No saying no now, Cutie.”

“I’d be damned if I did.”

You lead him towards the bed, kissing him the moment the back of your legs hit the side of the bed. You take his clothes off without breaking away from the kiss, fingers moving deftly as they unbutton his shirt, his cane transferring from his left hand to the right as you take each sleeve off. But then he lets it fall to the ground altogether, hands finding purchase on your waist instead as you start working on his slacks, unbuttoning and zipping his fly open, the fabric hissing softly as it drops to the ground around his feet. Your hands slip under the waistbands of his boxer briefs, grabbing his butt cheeks with a firm squeeze. Levi’s breath catches in his throat, and you chuckle against his mouth as you push the underwear down, letting it join the pants in a pool on the floor.

“Can you turn?”

“Yes.” He lifts his right foot first and towards the bed. You let him lean into you as he moves his other foot, and he holds onto you closely as he sits on the side of the bed. “Fuck, that’s so pathetic.”

“Stop thinking like that about yourself,” you scold heatlessly, planting a kiss on his lips. You push him to lie down, helping him bring his feet up on the bed. Then you straddle him, squeezing his cock between your pussy lips. 

“Shit!” Levi gasps, hands grabbing you by the waist. “Brat, wait–”

“No sex, I know, I know,” you say with a pout, planting your palms on his chest while grinding into him, rubbing his twitching cock against your wet folds.

“No, I–”

You press a finger against his lips. “Let me take care of you, Levi.”

Shit! He wants the sex. He wants the fucking sex!

You lean back, hands now on the mattress as you rock back and forth above him. Levi throws his head back on the pillow, mouth agape, all thoughts dissolving from his brain as you rub your cunt against his cock. Then you wrap your fingers around the head, thumb smearing pre-cum all over while pumping just the tip and rubbing the base with your pussy lips.

All his frustrations from the past days flood his belly, building up pressure that snaps just as quickly as it has built.

“Shit–” he chokes out, sounding like he’s about to cry, and spills all over his stomach.

Goddamn, he didn’t even last for ten-fucking-minutes.

“Missed me that much?” You purr, gathering his cum on your hand to coat his cock with it.

“Wait!” Levi gasps, eyes shut tight, cock still too sensitive from his last orgasm.

You continue stroking him deliberately. “Hmm, but I need you to cum again… for me this time. Can you do that?”

“What– ahh– give me– a minute!” He cries out, voice barely audible by the time he’s done talking.

You sigh deeply as you let go of his dick. Levi’s eyes fly open, and the first thing that comes to his mind is if he might have said something to hurt you again.

He did not. And you’re clearly enjoying yourself, red lips turned up in a pretty smirk as you shift on top of him, caging his right thigh between yours. You lower yourself until you’re completely sitting on his lap, lean forward and place your knuckles on the mattress next to his waist, and start rubbing your pussy against his thigh.

“Shit,” he grunts, cock twitching at the feeling of your cunt smearing slick on his skin. Goddamn, what he’d do to be inside you right-fucking-now. You straighten up, and he watches you grab your tits, squeezing and pinching your own nipples. Levi couldn’t stop his own hands from moving, raising them to replace your hands, and fuck, you feel so heavenly, your warm skin, soft tits, and hard nipples against his rough and calloused hands. You stop moving, but only to move around to straddle him, sandwiching his cock between your pussy lips. Despite himself, he no longer complains when you start grinding against him, sucking it up and letting you have it your way. You’ve been so good to him, surely he can stomach another orgasm—

His cockhead hits your hole, and he chokes out your name at how good it felt, so fucking good he thinks he might pass out the next time it happens. You take him in your hand, stroking the head and then positioning it right at your entrance. You change the direction of your hips to careful upward and downward thrusts, as if testing what just the tip would feel like, each nudge making you moan out in pleasure, each squeeze of your lips around the head making his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

“Fuuuck,” he groans, hands flying to your hips, desperate to keep you still so that he could thrust up into you completely.

“I know you want it,” you say, sounding as if you’re talking to yourself more than him. “Just say it, Levi…”

His lips part in a breathy moan as you go lower, and—

“Fuck, I’m—”

You pull him out just as thick ropes of semen spurt from his cock. You giggle, straddling him once more, milking his cock between your pussy lips, rubbing him through his high. Levi doesn’t even realize his knees are folded, both heels digging into the mattress, until he feels the sting on the left kneecap. You cry out his name, effectively distracting him from the pain in his knee, as you come undone, shuddering all over and around him. Satisfied and tired, you fall on top of him, face buried in the crook of his neck, both of you sighing in content at the feeling of each other’s body heat, ignoring the sticky fluids between your bellies and thighs. Levi’s hands move to your back, letting his fingers drift along the damp skin of your spine.

He lets the quiet moment stay, relishing in the sound of your steady breathing against his neck while his fingers move across your back, then to your arms. You nuzzle your nose at the space under his ear, and he lets out a soft chuckle when you start planting little kisses on his neck. He murmurs your name, gently squeezing your arms in an attempt to stop your pecks from turning to full-on sucking kisses. You giggle, wrapping your arms around his head, pulling yourself up to lie chest to chest with him. His hands drift along the side of your body, settling at the small of your back. You start kissing his nose, and he groans heatlessly.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmur, brushing away his fringe, twirling his hair in your fingers. “Have I already told you that I love the color of your eye?”

His cheeks heat up at the compliment, but he doesn’t object either way. He stares into your face as you keep playing with the tips of his hair before breaking his silence, murmuring your name so softly as if it’s glass that would break in his mouth, and then telling you to listen.

“I said shitty things to you, and I can’t apologize enough. I should’ve said them in a better way, but I didn’t, and I’m so sorry for not knowing what to say.”

“Levi…” You bury your face in his neck. “I told you, it’s fine. I understand. Let’s forget about it.”

He slightly tilts his head, lips softly grazing your temple. “I didn’t mean it that way, I didn’t intend for it to sound that way.”

“I know,” you murmur against his neck.

“I don’t deserve you.”

You hum in disagreement. “That’s for me to decide.”

“Fine,” he relents. “But I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said those things to you.”

You lift your face to look at him, a mischievous smile plastered on your lips. “Since you’re so desperate…”

Oh, shit.

“I’ll only accept your apology… if you have sex with me.”

He rolls his eyes. “I should’ve known.”

You chuckle, staring into his eyes for a moment before planting your lips on his. Then you slip your hand between your bodies to reach for his cock.

“W–wait!” He chokes out. “Not now. I– I need to be home soon.”

“Ugh,” you groan with an eye roll. “You and your annoying curfew.”

He chokes on his saliva. “What?”

“Nothing,” you tease, placing a kiss on his lips. He hums, pleased with the interaction, and a little smile blooms in your lips as you pull away. “Alright, grumps. Let’s get you dressed.”

He tightens his arms around your waist. “Wait.” You blink at him, and he swallows down the lump in his throat.

It’s now or never. 

“Do you have any plans tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow night…?” You parrot, blinking.

“Christmas Eve.”

You’re stunned for a second before cracking another teasing smile. “Are you asking me to welcome Christmas with you, Levi?”

“Obviously,” he deadpans.

You giggle, then frown. “I have work but… I get perks for being Venus.” You peck at his lips again, once, twice.

“Is that a yes?”

“Do you have a fireplace?” you ask back.

He raises a brow. “If I didn't?”

“I’d invite you to my place instead! I’ve always dreamed of sex by the fireplace.”

“Your idea of a Christmas countdown is ridiculous," he says with a snort. “But I do have a fireplace.”

“Then, it’s a deal! I’ll prepare the food!” You grin, squeezing his arm in excitement. “Can’t wait for our first date!”

Levi’s heart skips a beat.

—---------------------------—

Exactly a year ago, at this very hour, Levi was already in bed, praying the nightmares would give him a break while waiting for the pills to knock him unconscious. He didn’t wait for the clock to strike twelve, there’s no reason to, now that there’s no one to badger him to stay awake for Christmas and for his birthday, no reason to celebrate now that he doesn’t have his friends with him anymore.

He should be doing the same right now, staying warm under the blankets, staring at the ceiling while the ticking of the clock lulls him to sleep, but he’s not. Instead, he’s standing under a tree outside a pastry shop that just closed for the night. The wide street, bursting with warm-toned twinkling lights that are hung across, is still bustling. People walk around despite the cold and the continuous snow. While a few shops have already closed, some restaurants are still operating and crowded with people celebrating an early Christmas Eve with their friends.

Levi watches the snow lazily drifting around and he’s suddenly reminded of a time when the younger scouts, newly recruited and having survived another hell in the training grounds, are throwing snowballs at each other, enjoying a few peaceful hours of their lives. When he sees a group of men and women raising their mugs overflowing with beer, cheering with smiles so wide they could split their faces in half, he remembers a time when he had a couple of drinks with his own friends, watching them getting drunk until they passed out. He catches a few kids running along with presents in their hands, and he remembers receiving his own—a box of tea, a pair of hand-knitted mittens, a quill pen, a whole set of cleaning supplies…

Realizing he never got to take any of them with him breaks his heart. He has nothing of Erwin’s, nothing of Hange’s, Moblit’s, Nanaba’s or Miche’s. None that will physically remind him of Petra, Eld, Gunther, and Oluo. It's a shame they never had the means to print photographs before, and all he has are memories and the never-ending yearning to see them again, the ache to celebrate at least one last holiday, one more birthday, with them.

His eyes flicker to your face, zooming into focus when he realizes you’re in front of him.

“You look like you were somewhere far away,” you chuckle, wrapping an arm around his arm.

“I was.” He looks down at your linked arms, then at the furoshiki bag on your left. “What’s that?”

You look at him expectantly, refusing to answer.

“What?”

You pout at him, and he bites back a chuckle, thinking you look cute. “You’re forgetting something.”

“I’m not,” he answers after seconds of thinking. You point at something above your heads, and Levi follows with his eye to see nothing but leaves and white berries.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know,” you narrow your eyes at him.

He’s getting impatient. “Know what, brat?”

“Kiss me,” you giggle, tugging at his arm when he only looks at you with a deadpan stare. You close your eyes, then slightly purse your lips for him to kiss.

Levi couldn’t help but smile at the way you look, so eager for a kiss from him, of all people. “You’re weird,” he murmurs, already leaning forward to plant his lips on yours, lasting only for a few seconds. He pulls away, realizes he quite liked it, so he leans in for another, a little longer this time. You laugh against the kiss, arm tightening around his elbow as he pulls away. He raises a brow, ignoring the heat blooming in his chest. “Now, what?”

You start walking, steering the two of you out of the commercial district. “Well, there’s a cute tradition that kissing under the mistletoe fosters lasting friendship or ensures marriage.”

Levi stops in his tracks, says “wrong way,” while pointing his cane in the other direction, and you chuckle at your mistake.

“And you believe that shit?”

Your face twists in a frown. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No,” he answers a little quickly.

You smile at him. “Well, I do want to be friends with you. Marriage is a bonus.”

“Hm.” He lets the topic pass, reminding himself that he should be happy that you want to be friends, and asks if you need help with the bag instead.

"It's not that heavy,” you say dismissively. “I made mincemeat pies, strawberry pudding, and brought cocoas for hot choc—” you stop abruptly, worry washing over your face when you see the uncertainty on his own. “What? You don’t like pie? Or the pudding? Or hot chocolate?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had that mincemeat pie before.”

“Oh,” you chuckle, hands tightening around his arm in delight, “lucky you, my pies are the best in the whole world! You’re never going to want to try another.”

He smirks. “Sure.”

.

His house may not be big, but it’s cozy and smells of the tea blend that’s become your favorite from his shop. He lets you in first, telling you where to leave your boots and then taking your coat from you to deposit it on the clothes stand together with his own jacket, leaving you in a long burgundy cardigan, black knee length dress (which he will shortly find out has a plunging neckline), and thigh-high stockings. How you aren’t freezing in those clothes is beyond him.

You walk around appreciating how scrupulously tidy everything is. And then: “you don’t live with your kids?”

“My kids?” he blinks, and then it slowly dawns on him which kids you’re talking about. “They’re not my kids, idiot.”

You laugh, knowing he doesn’t mean that in a bad way, as you peek at the bathroom, humming appreciatively at the squeaky-clean tiles. Then, you turn to look quickly at the adjacent compact storage space where he keeps the shoe rack and cleaning supplies. Levi watches you make your way to the small living room, with only one single couch, a small coffee table, and the fireplace. You set your bag on the dining table while your eyes hover at the fridge, stove, and the kitchen counter, and ultimately at the ornate wooden dividers that separate the bed area and the small back porch from the rest of the house. 

He lights the fireplace while you start setting the table with the pies, pudding, and the wine you bought on your way (despite his objections), changing your plans of making hot chocolates to tomorrow morning instead. He joins you shortly, sitting next to you after you insisted on it, and begins eating.

The pie does taste great, but instead of saying that, he teases you by fake-pondering about trying another recipe to confirm and then laughing at the way you pouted and accused him of betrayal. The pudding tastes a little too sweet for him, and you only nod as if you’ve anticipated it. For the next hour and a half, you do most of the talking about yourself and he only listens, and without even realizing it, he remembers everything you said. He even considers asking when your birthday is, for he wants to buy you a new pair of ballet shoes when you said you used to dance ballet.

With the pies and pudding all consumed, you begin washing the dishes while Levi adds more wood to the fireplace to maintain the fire, then he takes the couch and waits for you. You find the light switches, turning them off and leaving only the fire and the dim streetlight outside to illuminate the interior of the house. You bring the bottle of wine and highball glasses with you, laughing at the way Levi looks at you when you fill half of the glasses with wine. You raise your glass for a toast and then take a gulp.

“Brat, that’s not beer you’re drinking,” he snorts, to which you respond with a chuckle before taking a gentle sip this time. “Sit down here,” he says, patting the armrest of the chair.

You let out a playful hum, crossing your arms and tapping the mouth of the glass against your lower lip. “I’d like to dance for you,” you say, immediately getting into position: arms held out in front of your body, sloping down from the shoulder, and elbows in an oval shape, and your feet are pointed outwards, legs crossed and feet touching, with the heel of one foot placed beside the toes of the other. Levi keeps his eyes on your face, straining to see the soft smile on your lips, while his ears are focused on the gentle scratches of your right foot against the floor as you tendu to the side, right leg now extended and toes pointed at the floor, and then plie in the back, where your knees are half-bent and your heels flat on the floor. You lock eyes with him, then turn around on your left toes twice and fast, eyes zipping right back to Levi’s fate after. You grin, taking another gulp of your wine, and it dawns on him that you managed to twirl without sloshing your drink. The corner of his mouth turns up in amusement, and you let out a delighted squeal.

“Say it, you’re impressed!”

“I am,” he says simply. “Is that what you do in ballet?”

“Mhm!” You giggle, drinking the rest of your wine.

He offers to refill your drink for you, but once your hands are free, you start taking your cardigan off, leaving you in only your halter tie dress. Levi pauses, bottle slightly tipped, and watches as the cloth drops in a pool behind your ankles.

“I don’t think that’s still ballet you’re doing,” he muses, eyebrows raised.

You slowly strut forward, offering your right hand. “Would you indulge me in a dance?”

“If you don’t mind my third leg.”

You chuckle, taking his hands. He grumbles under his breath, but lets you pull him up from the couch, nevertheless. You grab his cane for him, then you close the gap between your bodies and place his hand at the small of your back. His cold fingers meet the warm skin of your back, and all he could think of is to pull you even closer, letting the tip of his fingers glide lower until they’re at your upper buttock. 

Your smile tells him you like where he’s touching you.

You place your arms over his shoulders, swaying your bodies to a music he pretends to be hearing along with you. He focuses on the ghost of a smile on your lips, remembering how he once thought he would never be able to dance like this again now that his knee is injured.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs, unable to stop himself from leaning closer.

Your hands transfer to the sides of his shoulders as you tilt your head to the side, allowing him to press his nose on your neck, where your perfume smells stronger. His eyes close, rolling to the back of his head as he deeply inhales your scent, and before he even realizes, his lips move to kiss your neck. You suddenly pull away, and he instantly regrets doing it.

But you’re smiling—smirking—as you take his hand to yours, stepping backwards until your and his arms are extended. He gently tugs at your hand, and you grin, pulling yourself towards him, turning in his arms until your back is pressed against his chest.

“How the fuck are you not cold?” he grumbles, seeing your naked back.

“Oh, I’m cold,” you chuckle, swaying your hips, causing your ass to grind against his growing erection. “And you’re going to help me get warm.” With your head tilted to the side, you lean it back against his shoulder.

“Hm,” he nuzzles the back of your shoulder with his nose. Then he moves up, kissing the junction where your ear and neck meet, and plants a trail of kisses down the side of your neck to your shoulder. You let go of his hand and take a step away from him, and he nearly complains, once again left wanting more of your skin against his mouth. 

“Will you help me take it off?”

You hold one of the tie’s ends so that Levi can pull at the other easily, and he watches as the ties disappear behind your shoulders. He touches the nape of your neck, savoring the smoothness of your skin against his calloused fingers as he guides them down your spine, until they reach the hidden zipper of your dress. You hold the fabric on each side so he could pull the hook without bringing the dress with it, revealing the red thin waistbands of your thong.

“The fuck.”

You sway your hips, and the dress smoothly drops and pools around your feet. Levi swallows, eyes trailing down your butt cheeks to your legs that are covered in stockings.

You face him, nudging his chest gently. “Your turn.”

He drops on the couch, his cane to the ground. You lean forward, planting your left knee on the cushion beside his right, and start unbuttoning his shirt, and he lets you undress him like a child who couldn’t manage on his own. You throw his shirt somewhere, laughing at his complaints of the dirty floor while you take his undershirt off him, tossing it away where it joins his other shirt on the ground.

“Just relax,” you purr, gently pushing him to lean back on the couch before working on unbuckling his belt and getting rid of only his pants first, leaving it to pool around his feet. “Oh, Levi,” you sigh, letting your fingertips glide ever so smoothly along his hard-on, boxer briefs already stained with pre-cum. He lets out a sharp breath, stomach rapidly rising and falling, cock twitching against the confining prison of the fabric that covers him.

“Please,” is all he manages to utter, desperate to be released—desperate for a release.

“Please what?” you hum, tracing a finger along the most visible vein through the fabric.

“Fuck–”

You lean closer. “Hm?”

“I– I want to fuck,” he sighs, as if the admission is a burden that he’s finally relieved of.

“You held out long enough.” You press a kiss on his forehead. 

Your fingers slip under the waistbands of his boxers, and he quickly lifts his hips, extremely eager to rid of the offending fabric. His cock springs free, and he lets out a breathy “ahh,” when it twitches at the sudden cold air. You toss his boxers aside, and he couldn’t even begin to care about where it’ll land or how it’ll spoil whatever it touches as he reaches for your hips and guides you down to sit on his lap.

“Oh, but I want to dance some more for you,” you whine, holding his shoulders to keep him at arm’s length.

“No more,” he croaks, hands traveling up your chest and to the sides of your neck, thumbs pressed against your lower cheeks. “Can’t fucking take it anymore.” He reels you in for a kiss, passionate, gentle, until you start grinding into his hips, cockhead smearing pre-cum on your already soaked through underwear. A groan elicits from his throat and his tongue slips into your mouth, drawing out a tiny moan from you in return. His hands roam all over your back, as if they have a mind of their own and are committing to memory the feeling of your smooth skin as they glide down to your hips, then to your thighs, lightly scratching against the smooth surface of your stockings. If his nails are a little longer, he would’ve torn the fabric and yet he wouldn’t care—he’d gladly buy you a new one. He’d gladly buy as many as you want. You lean back, leaving your left hand at the back of his head while you place the other on the arm rest for support, and move your hips up and down, rubbing your wet thong against his rock-hard cock. Levi lifts his half-lidded eyes to your face, his cheeks slightly tinted red, shallow breaths slipping past his parted lips, and moves his hands to your chest, generously squeezing your tits, causing you to throw your head back in a loud sigh.

But you quickly return your gaze to his, sharp and demanding when you say, “suck me.”

He obeys in an instant, straightening up to reach for a tit, mouth latching around the mound and tongue twirling against the erected nipple, all while his hand remains at the underside, squeezing you firmly towards his mouth. You moan out loud, keeping your eyes trained on where his lips are closed in around your mound, calling out his name so that he’d lift his face and look back at you. His lips pull away from your tit, making you watch his tongue as it flips your nipple like it’s a fucking switch, each movement only turning you on even more. His lips close in on your tit again with a loud sucking breath, pulling at your nipple until you’re a babbling mess, then he moves onto your other breast, licking and sucking red marks on the skin around the areola before sucking on the mound and your perked up nipple.

Levi pulls away and begs, “take me in.”

Your left hand transfers to the armrest so that you can hold his cock with your right, drawing out a loud breathy moan from him. He goes back to mouthing your tit while you work on his cock, stroking the head and then hitting your clothed clit with it, pushing it into your covered hole, eliciting a sigh from the both of you. Desperate to feel you around him, Levi reaches for your thong, pushing away the fabric. When skin finally meets skin, you tremble, a whimper escaping your mouth while Levi unintentionally bites at your tit.

“Take me in,” he murmurs your name pleadingly, looking up at you with eyes blown wide with lust and want.

You gather your slick with your fingers and coat the shaft with it, and he groans through gritted teeth, eyes trained on your face while you watch his glistening head as it’s guided towards your hole with your hand. You meet his eye, but soon break away from the eye contact, eyes rolling to the back of your head when you finally take him in.

“Fuuuuck…” he sighs, deep and long, and you cry out a moan as your cunt swallows down all of him. You shut your eyes, throw your other hand on the armrest, and move your hips in a circular motion to relish the delicious stretch. Levi’s wraps his arms around your waist, watching the smooth movement of your stomach that reminds him of calm flowing water, and strangely, that’s what he feels despite the ache in his belly: an undercurrent of calmness brought by your presence, of the feeling of your body against his, of the realization that he fucking likes you, and that he’s spending Christmas and welcoming his birthday with you, with his cock getting all hot and comfy in your cunt, his mouth latched on your chest, and his arms tight around your waist.

“Come on,” he urges, grabbing your butt cheeks. You straighten up, pressing his face against your chest as you wrap your arms closely around his head, fingers raked through his silky hair. Levi manages to sit in a slightly slouched position for better angle, and you press your knees on his waist and place your feet on his thighs. Fingers splayed on your butt cheeks, he guides your hips up and down, slowly at first, until you pick up your pace. Levi closes his eyes, nuzzling his nose between your jiggling chests. Then he lifts his face and his lips repeatedly graze the skin below your chin. He murmurs your name, hears nothing from you except the tiny whimpers you’re making and the slapping of your thighs against his. When your movements slow, he’d squeeze your ass and smack them, and you’d quicken your pace again, whimpering louder than before with your mouth close to his ear, and it’s all he could hear—the pretty sounds your mouth and your pussy lips make, and the crackling of fire in the background. He lowers his face, catching one of your tits, and keeps his mouth and tongue busy with your perked up nipple.

“Levi…” Your fingers grasp at the threads of his hair, tilting his head back and forcing him to look up at you. He lets go of your breast with a pop, then you crash your mouth into his, moaning down his throat, as your movements turn erratic. Needier. More desperate.

A thin string of saliva connects your mouth to his when you pull away. You catch it with the tip of your tongue, ultimately licking at Levi’s lips, drawing out a loud moan from him.

“Will you let me cum in you?” he asks, and you answer instantly with a nod. You lean back once more, hands returning to the armrests. Levi keeps his left hand on your hips while the other slips between your stomachs, turning you into a mewling and twitching mess when his fingers find your clit, pinching and then circling on it.

“Suck me, Levi. Keep sucking me, please.”

The desperation in your voice makes him growl, stirring awake what’s been dormant in him. He snaps up, seizing one of your tits in his mouth and sucking hard, and you moan even louder, so loud he’s certain if there’s anyone passing by outside, they’d hear you. You watch your breast stretching when he pulls at it, tongue twirling at the nipple and then letting it go with a pop. He turns to your other breast, pouring attention on your needy nipple. You sigh out in pleasure, eyes flickering to his mouth around your mound, then to the shadows on the wall, to your seemingly dancing silhouette as you grind against his hips. Your grip around his cock tightens, and he feels it, makes his cock pulse inside you. You’re both close, and he wants nothing more than for you to cum around him while you milk him.

“You’re gonna let me cum in you.” He’s uncertain whether it’s a statement or a question, but you murmur a ‘yes’ either way.

“Levi–” you whimper, as if in warning, and then you grunt, taking all of him in one sharp thrust, body convulsing as you climax.

He grits his teeth, disappointed at the sudden loss of friction, so he grabs your hips and makes you ride him through your high, eyes flickering at your trembling stomach then at your red pussy lips, swallowing him whole and then releasing him coated in your cum. The sight makes him throb and in one final thrust and a very loud grunt, he comes undone, cock twitching inside you, filling your womb with his cum. His vision turns white, and the force of his orgasm sends his feet lifting from the ground as he jerks his hips to meet yours. You whimper his name, already sensitive from your orgasm, but you don’t stop him from fucking into you, pumping you full and painting his cock in more white.

There’s a sharp pain in his left knee, but he somehow quickly forgets it when he sees the fucked-out grin on your face. He smirks in response, fingers digging into your cheeks as he tugs you into a contrastingly gentle kiss. Your arms find his shoulders again, wrapped gently around his neck as you kiss him back for what feels like an hour.

When you pull away, you’re smiling, somewhat teasing when you ask, “do I get five stars?”

“Ten out of ten,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Outside, in the distance, fireworks go off as the clock strikes twelve.

You laugh, pulling his face to your chest in a hug. You kiss the top of his head and quietly greet him, “Merry Christmas, Levi.”

“Merry Christmas,” he murmurs your name, arms tightening around your waist, and plants a kiss on your neck. “Thank you for spending it with me.”

“Mhm,” you hum against his hair, caressing the back of his head with your fingers. “We should drink the rest of the wine and go to bed. What do you think?”

You remain seated on his lap in the next half hour, drinking and sharing stories with each other—you with your childhood memories, and Levi with the easier days he remembers from when he’s still in the Scouts. If that makes you realize that he’s from Paradis, you don’t show it, and he appreciates that. He tells you a little about his friends, about Erwin who was the commander dedicated to humanity's survival. He tells you about Hange, eccentric, annoyingly energetic, and obsessed with the titans. He tells you about his special squad and the doe-eyed girl he secretly liked. He tells you about the bond Eren, Armin, and Mikasa had, of Sasha, Jean, and Connie’s friendship, and how they made him miss Isabel and Furlan every day.

With the wine all consumed, he finally invites you to bed. You offer to put out the fireplace, and he watches, admiring your naked body from where he sits. There’s a strange yet warm feeling in his chest as you stand side by side, brushing your teeth together.

Once in bed, you refuse to sleep. You pepper his face with kisses, spending more time on his mouth before trailing lower, trailing kisses along his scars. Then you take him into your mouth, waking up his cock so quickly with your skilled hands and tongue, and once he’s rock-hard, you ride him into oblivion, his orgasm hitting him harder this time that it lasts longer than earlier. You lie chest to chest, your pussy lips still twitching around his cock from your own orgasm.

He kisses your temple, arms wrapped gently around your waist and tells you to go to sleep.

But what he doesn’t realize is he’s the first one who succumbs to sleep, the feeling of your fingers gently tracing along the scars on his chest being the last thing that registers in his mind as he slowly loses his consciousness.

—---------------------------—

He wakes up to a loud banging on his door. 

And then, Gabi’s voice, shouting his name from outside the house.

“Shit.” He murmurs your name and gently shakes you to rouse you from sleep. You moan sleepily, turning away from him to go back to sleep. He squeezes your arm, urgently this time, and says, “brat, wake up. They’re here.”

He sits the two of you up gently, and then he gets off the bed, having no time to watch you scratch the sleep away from your eyes.

“Who’s they?” you murmur.

“Gabi, Falco, and maybe even Onyankopon.” He walks to his dresser to get a fresh set of clothes for him and for you, hoping they’d fit you just fine.

“Oh…”

“What, oh? Get moving, woman.”

You jump out from the bed. “Where do you want me to go? Do you need me to hide?”

He pauses to glance at you. “Hide? Why would I hide you from them?”

“Erm— I… don’t know,” you shrug.

“Leviiiii! Wake up, you old man!” shouts Gabi from the front door. Falco peeks from one of the windows, but fortunately for you both, Levi has drawn them last night.

“Get the clothes. You’ll find the laundry basket in the bathroom.”

“Okay!” you squeak, springing into action. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sounds of your hurried footsteps as you gather your clothes and bring them to the said laundry basket, all while the kids are pounding on his door and shouting in the background. You come back shortly, panting, still wearing nothing, and fuck, it sends the blood rushing to where he doesn’t need it going right now. He ignores the building ache in his belly, lending you a set of clothes for you to wear. You both get dressed quickly, and soon he answers the door, pretending he’s all grumpy from just waking up.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEVI—”

Shit.

The kids' voices die down, and their eyes widen to the size of saucers, jaws slack, when they see you standing behind him.

“You’re the pretty lady in the tea shop!” Gabi exclaims.

He turns to you, and the surprised look on your face instantly fills him with shame for not telling you about his birthday.

But then, you smile, a genuine one, washing away the worry in his guts. “Happy birthday, Levi.” The smile quickly disappears, and in a more serious tone, you add, “you didn’t tell me.”

Oh, fuck.

“That’s Levi for you,” Gabi says with a shrug.

You raise a brow at him. He pretends to not notice, turning to the kids and Onyankopon instead. “Come in. It’s fucking cold.” 

Once they’re all inside, he introduces you to them. Onyankopon shakes hands with you, and greets you a Merry Christmas, followed by Falco and Gabi, who adds “I knew he was going to hit on you!”

“Brat,” he chokes out.

Onyankopon sets the cake and soup on the table. Gabi hits Falco with a resounding slap at the back, telling him to stop ogling your chest, earning a laugh from you.

Levi stands beside you and apologizes for not telling you about today. You smile, hugging his arm, and kissing his cheek. “It’s alright. Happy birthday, Levi.”

“Thanks.” He tilts his head to the side, gently bumping into yours.

The candle on the cake gets lit, then the four of you sing him a happy birthday. Since there aren’t enough chairs, only Levi sits while you join the other three in your soup while standing. The kids mention the ongoing holiday bazaar, inviting you to come with them tonight, and happily agree to. Neither you nor Levi reveal where you actually met each other, thinking it doesn’t matter at the moment. Onyankopon lights the fireplace, where you all soon gather before to eat the cake they brought. Levi sits on the couch, the rest of you on the floor.

Later that day, when the three have gone back home, you stay with Levi, huddled together on the sofa with you sitting across his lap, quietly watching the fire as it eats away at the woods. You wrap your arms around his waist, lifting your face to kiss his jaw, and he pulls you closer, right arm wrapped around your shoulders.

“Will you let me stay?” you ask, face buried in the crook of his neck.

He tilts his head to kiss your forehead. “If you let me stay in yours.”