#nilevi

A knock on the door, practiced in rhythm so that Levi would know just who was calling. A smirk on his face when he answered the door, coat discarded and shirt half-buttoned. He didn’t bother to say a word as Nile stepped in and closed the door, merely sauntering to his room in the back of the house.

The instant his bedroom door clicked shut, Levi felt a body press up against his spine, a mouth at his ear. “I’m here to make you feel alive, little urchin.” It was a line that was repeated, a reminder of why Levi invited him hear, and as always, the criminal melted back into Nile at the words.

Because nothing brought him back down to the world of the living better than being pinned down by the man who chased him in the shadows.

It was an effort of give and take. Through this, while Nile could never catch and convict Levi, he got his control over the adolescent. Likewise, Levi got the sensation of presence in this world, the warmth of another body, another spirit, pressed against his.

As Nile’s teeth sink into his shoulder, Levi’s nails pressing into the column of the officer’s spine, he breathes out Nile’s name. It’s reverent, almost a prayer, because in these situations, Nile is his God, punishing him to remind him of his true place in the world of men.

Every time Nile graced his doorstep, Levi made a promise to himself. This would all be solely physical, working out their frustrations. He’d never fall in love with the rugged man who he had no place being with. And as Nile left when evening fell, Levi failed in keeping his promise.

For months Nile acted as his saviour, an alternative to attacking himself or throwing himself into danger to feel alive. And somewhere along those lines, Levi came to depend on that. His saviour became the center of the dark, enamoured feelings Levi could equate with love.