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A Choice With No Regrets

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“This is fucking ridiculous.”

“You promised.”

“...You weren’t supposed to remember that.”

“How could I forget? I ordered the very next day, I was so excited that you said you’d wear it…”

“...I hate you.”

Eren Yeager didn’t hear that part. He didn’t hear the flurry of abuse that followed after it, either. Levi hadn’t intended him to hear it, anyway, just as he hadn’t intended Eren to remember the promise. That stupid, stupid promise. It was meant to be pillow talk, not-so-sweet nothings murmured between lovers, and in Levi’s case, it was done when he was already half asleep.

A good six months later, and he was in the predicament of the present, all to keep his lover satisfied.  

“Are you… going to come out?” Eren’s muffled voice seeped through the door, his tone somehow capturing that puppy-eyed look he did so well. Even without seeing him, Levi knew those big ol’ green eyes were pleading, his bottom lip plump with a pout. It was even worse when Eren made his lips tremble. He was a fucking brat for doing that; it practically guaranteed his success, which normally meant Levi succumbing to dumb shit like this.

Dumb shit like wearing a school uniform.

As a man in his early thirties, that was insult enough. He thought his school days long behind him, and having risen up through the ranks to CEO of Smith Industries - second only to the man who founded the company - wearing a high schooler’s costume was something of a step back.

It wasn’t any old high school uniform, however. No, that would be too easy.

Eren only had to have a fetish for the high school girl .

Levi scrutinized his muscled legs as they stuck awkwardly out from beneath the pleated skirt. Even with the pristine white, over-the-knee socks, it didn’t look right, much less sexy. His legs were too masculine, a far cry from the plump thighs of a girl. He turned, eyeing up his ass. That was no good, either. This was a total waste of time.

“No, I’m not going to come out.” Levi sighed, adjusting the navy ribbon at his throat, as if it would somehow sort out the lack of sex appeal he possessed. You couldn’t polish a turd, and no matter how you dressed it up, a turd was, and always would be, a turd.

“Please?” Eren begged. The hinges of the door protested as he leaned his weight onto the frame, his voice coming through the wood thickly. “I want to see you.”

“Not like this you don’t.”

“Not even a peek?”

“No.”

“...I’ll close my eyes, if you let me touch you instead…”

“Absolutely not.” Though he shot it down, Levi couldn’t help but consider that a decent alternative. But he knew Eren too well to accept those terms; the boy wouldn’t keep his eyes closed for more than a minute, by which point he’d have Levi right where he wanted him.

When silence greeted him from the other side, he felt no sense of victory. For Eren to give up the fight… his lip would surely be quivering. God damn it, Levi thought bitterly, this boy is going to be the death of me.

Against his better judgement, he flicked the lock on the bathroom door, the clunk of metal releasing reverberating through his brain. Why did it feel as though he was unlocking far more dangerous things than a bathroom door?

Pulling the handle, he opened the door the slightest crack, point-blank refusing to open it himself all the way. If Eren wanted this, he would earn it.

“Don’t come after me for killing your boner.” Levi snapped, turning to face himself in the mirror.

“L-Levi…” Eren whispered, stepping slowly into the frame behind Levi. Maybe it was the lighting, but he looked to already be blushing. “You look-”

“Dumb as shit. Can I get changed now?” Levi interrupted. He didn’t need to hear the voice he adored telling him he was an idiot for wearing it. He knew that perfectly well already.

“Please, stay in it. It’s so much better than I ever imagined it to be.”

Eren spoke as if his mind were far away, carried to a distant land not yet discovered, and full of natural beauty. That’s what Levi surmised, because there was no way in hell they were both seeing the same thing in the mirror.

“Disgusting.” Levi spat, eyeing his figure up and down harshly. He was small in frame but built, toned from hours of working out in the gym. Eren, too, sported an equally built physique, yet he had the height to carry it better. Out of the two of them, Levi couldn’t help feeling Eren would be better suited to this kind of uniform - a sweet revenge in the planning. For now, he suffered it himself, feeling like an utter fool.

If his colleagues caught wind of this, his career was as good as over. Erwin Smith, the founder, may be more sympathetic to his cause, the pair of them college buddies. The look on his face when he discovered Levi dressed up like this in his spare time was something Levi hoped to never see.

Eren’s face, on the other hand, was confusing Levi’s moral compass considerably.

“You look amazing,” Eren whispered. “Incredible, even.”

“I look like an idiot,” Levi protested.

Sensing a battle of words wasn’t going to work it out, Eren did what Eren did best, catching Levi off-guard as he seized his wrist.

“Wh-”

His hand was carefully guided back, to the growing tension between Eren’s legs.

He was partially aroused. Levi could feel it, and as his fingers lightly felt the outline of his cock, it grew harder. His own cock gave a twitch in response, swelling against the cotton panties that trapped him.

Yes.

He even donned the godforsaken panties.

They were white, too, with a cute , tiny bow at the top of the hem. Levi thought they’d looked strange as well, with his cock and balls bulging awkwardly. It must’ve looked even worse down there now that he was becoming aroused.

“Look at yourself, Levi.” Eren prompted. With his free hand, he snaked an arm around Levi’s waist, untucking the cotton shirt and vanishing underneath. The soft pads of his fingers brushed along Levi’s taut abdomen, tracing the defined muscles one by one. “You look so naughty, dressed like that. I can tell you’re enjoying it, too.”

“Shut up, I’m not enjoying this one bi-” His voice cut off, his teeth biting hard into his bottom lip, lest the sound of surprise escape him. He caught it between his teeth, chewed it up and swallowed it back down, in time to force the second sound down, too. He would endure this, silently, regardless of whether Eren twisted, flicked, or rubbed at his nipples.

“Levi. Don’t be shy.” Eren purred, his voice hot on Levi’s ear. “Admit it. That you like this. I can tell you do; your nipples are so hard…”

“You bastard… of course they are… you’re touching them. It’s no different… from this …” Cruelly, Levi tightened his grip on Erens cock, pawing at it through the thick fabric. He earned himself a small moan, a buck of the hips, and a hard twist of his nipple that sent his mental state reeling momentarily. He couldn’t catch his agonized moan that time, and the chuckle of self-satisfaction that trickled into his ear set his blood on fire.

“You little shit…” He panted, his pride wounded - it was heavily damaged as is. Much more, and it would be in tatters. “...You’re sick, for enjoying this, you know that?”

“That’s not very nice.” Eren said, sounding offended. “People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Look for yourself.”

Reluctantly, Levi glanced at himself in the mirror. He glanced at the man in the skirt, with the flushed cheeks and light sweat glistening on his forehead. He saw his shirt, pulled up beneath his chin, and Eren’s fingers playing with his tortured nipple - puffed up, swollen. He watched as with each breath, his abdomen rippled with pleasure. He saw the way his legs quaked, struggling to hold himself upright.

Most of all, most of all , he saw the lewd hitch in his skirt, the fabric bunched and hooked on his straining arousal. When did it become that bad? Was it from nis nipples, the sensitive buds on his chest that sent electric sparks shooting down his spine? Or was it from his hand, pressing firmly and groping at Eren’s concealed arousal?

He suddenly found himself grateful for the tight restriction of the panties. Without them, his obvious arousal would only be more… prominent.

“You’re such a naughty girl.” Eren murmured low, his voice melting into Levi’s mind.

“Pervert,” he quipped, looking away from the shameful display.

“I told you to look at yourself.”

Levi’s relief when Eren abandoned his nipple was short lived. Creeping out from the collar of his shirt, Eren’s hand gripped his narrow chin, twisting his face back to the mirror with one single, low spoken command. His voice sent a dangerous shiver down Levi’s spine.

Look.

He didn’t want to see himself. He felt rebellion rise up in his blood, hot and feverish, the desire to act out fierce. His jaw tightened, and Eren’s fingers gripped him harder, the pressure pushing his cheeks inwards. A silent warning to do as he was bid, squashing the bug of defiance before it had a chance to take to flight.

His eyes slid back to the mirror. To the man in the skirt. To himself, aroused and in a skirt - aroused because of it.

“Lift your skirt.”

Levi shuddered again, the depths of Eren’s words, their meaning, sinking into him deep. He swallowed thickly, relinquished his ginger grasp of Eren’s cock, and took up the hem of the skirt in both hands. His fingers shook as he inched the fabric up, lifting it slowly. He was reluctant to expose himself, to see his shame reflected in the glass, where he could no longer hide from it.

“Higher.”

I don’t want to.

Levi hesitated, and instantly regretted his mistake.

“Lift it, or I’ll take it from you.”

The paradox.

Levi struggled on, his teeth biting at his bottom lip as he fought for the right decision. It wasn’t fair, and Eren was once more proving himself all too skilled at this game. He knew how to position himself under Levi’s skin, leaving an inescapable, prickling heat across his body that no amount of scratching could cure. He knew how to get inside Levi’s headspace, to the inner workings of his mind, which parts could be broken down and which parts to tinker with.

He was being forced to make an impossible choice. He wanted the third option, the get changed into pants and watch TV outcome. But that wasn’t how this would play out. He should have known that from the moment Eren presented him with these cursed clothes.

Underneath it all, Levi could only blame himself. He agreed to this, he put the clothes on, and now it was his decision on how the rest of their evening would go. He was responsible for the dark glimmer in Eren’s eye, the one that made his own blood pulse heavily in his veins.

Levi lifted the hem all the way, his cheeks blossoming with a blush as he saw himself. His cock, swollen and straining, trapped inside the cotton confines of his panties. It was disgusting and gross and he couldn’t tear his eyes from it, from the darkening circle where his tip was compressed tightly, squeezing the fluid out of him.

He could almost smell it.

“Good girl.” Eren purred, pleased.

The smug bastard was smiling. He smiled in the way that he only did when Levi submitted, and it made it all the more real to him; a clear signal that Levi had crossed over, that he was no longer in control - of anything. Not even himself.

It was a pleasant state of being. One by one his responsibilities were lifted, until the only thing left on his mind was pleasing Eren. What could give a man greater satisfaction than that? Nothing else mattered.

But Levi wasn’t quite there yet.

He needed more coaxing.

And Eren, he feared, had just the thing.

“That doesn’t change the fact you’ve been naughty, though. And do you know what happens to naughty girls, Levi?”

“They…” His mouth was dry. He wetted his lips, and tried again. “They are punished.”

“Have you been naughty?” Eren asked.

Levi closed his eyes. He breathed in deep, collecting himself. The choice was upon his shoulders, as it always was. For a man relinquishing all control, he sure had an abundance of it in reserve.

“I have.” He whispered.

“You know what to say.”

“I’ve… been naughty, and need to be punished.”

If Eren were not there, pressed firmly to his back, Levi would have crumpled to the floor. Instead he was held up firm, lifted into Eren’s arms now that his legs were too weak. His blood had rushed to his head, making him dizzy, his vision off-center.

Those words.

It took him months to say them. It took months for him to submit, and all the time Eren waited patiently, guiding him by the hand as they explored the realm of the unknown together. In those months, Levi discovered things about himself he never knew, things that both frightened and excited him.

His need for corporal punishment was the embodiment of both fear and pleasure in him.

When Eren quietly asked if he was alright, he nodded gently. When Eren lead him out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, he was reminded that he could make it stop at anytime.

“You remember the safeword?” Eren said, looking up as he placed the chair down in front of the bed. “Say it to me now.”

“Red.”

“That’s it. Okay, Levi. Come lay down here.” Eren patted his lap. He sat himself on the chair, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up as Levi approached.

It was a surreal feeling when Levi entered into a scene like this. It was as though his former self was left at the door, waiting patiently for him to return. It could be five minutes, or five hours, the length of time didn’t matter, though the longer Levi spent in a scene, the more engrossed he became. The recovery time afterwards was longer, and Eren always ensured there was plenty of that.

His heart beat fast as he laid down over Eren’s thighs, feeling the fabric of his skirt ride up his thighs. His knees knocked, the anticipation of his impending punishment setting his body alight. He felt all things around him keenly, his senses honed as he waited for the first touch, so that when Eren lifted the skirt the rest of the way, he barely suppressed his whimper.

“I’m going to spank you,” Eren stated, as plainly as if announcing he would make dinner, “and you’re going to count each one.”

“Yes, Sir.” That was Levi’s first shift into his submissive state. He felt it, like a mechanism sliding home inside his body, his mind.

His everyday persona was shed like an unwanted skin here, leaving the bare bones of his existence. An existence that Eren would rebuild, slowly and meticulously.

Levi’s ass was groped through his panties. The flat palm of Eren’s hand rubbed gingerly at his cheeks, one and then the other, and back again. It would have been soothing, if not for the shadow of pain looming over it. Levi, with his arms bent and hands gripping Eren’s thigh, could do nothing but wait for it.

“How many do you think you deserve?”

Pick too many, and Levi would suffer more for it. Pick too few, and his punishment could well be doubled. Which was which? Was five too many, or too few? Could he withstand fifteen sound smacks to his ass?

“Ten, Sir.” Levi declared, hoping upon hope it was enough, that ten was the magic number, that ten was just right. “Please.”

“That seems right to me.” Eren replied. He pulled Levi’s panties down, exposing the creamy flesh of his ass. It wouldn’t be that way for long. Soon it would be red, very red. The soreness would set in after the stinging, and Levi would find the slightest touch too much to bear.

Any more than ten and he wouldn’t be able to sit. Any less and he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of being punished.

“Let’s count down. Make sure you don’t miss any.”

“Yes, Sir.”

And so it began.

The first one wasn’t too bad. It came swiftly, catching him clean on the plump roundness of his ass, the sound echoing through the room - through his mind.

“Ten, Sir.” Levi said. Nine was next. Nine more and he was done.

The second smack came to his left cheek, and now both stung in equal measure.

“Nine, Sir.”

Eight to go.

Number eight landed lower, near to his thighs. It hurt worse than the other two. He counted it off dutifully, his mood compliant and docile.

He was sometimes a brat, rising to challenge Eren’s authority over him, pushing the boundaries - and he always found himself back in his rightful place, his ass smarting for the effort.

“Eight, Sir.”

Seven and six were hard, the sensation echoing through Levi’s lower half, and up his spine. After the sixth, Eren opened his palm wide, flaying his fingers as he gripped the tender flesh generously, massaging and kneading with his fingers.

Number five was cruel, landing where the first one still stung, and resonated deep in him.

He yelped in surprise, his head tossing back as it ripped from him. By now, his ass and the tops of his thighs were stinging, the skin sensitized - and there were still five more to go.

Levi wasn’t sure if he had the strength to make it. He considered opting out, but something inside him urged him to see it through. It would be worth it, he knew, and he’d already come so far. Then there was Eren. The look of pride on his face if Levi completed his punishment…

His resolve strengthened, Levi took the next two spanks in his stride.

“Five, Sir! Four, Sir!”

They hurt, but something more than the pain overcame him. He felt a barrier go down, the emotional grip he held over himself snapping like a rubber band. It came out in the form of tears, squeezing from his tightly clenched lids. First a single tear rolled across his cheek, and then a second, and soon he sobbed freely.

The liberation.

Levi was free in that moment. He wasn’t the CEO of a successful company, responsible for a full team of employees and balancing his personal life on the side. He didn’t have bills to pay, food to buy, cleaning to do. He didn’t worry about tomorrow, or tonight, or the next hour. He wasn’t anyone, or anything. He was simply a bad girl, bent over the knee and receiving his just punishment. All his worries were getting through the next three slaps, of gritting his teeth and bearing the pain - all to satisfy the man who punished him.

He could feel his heart swelling at the thought, and as a loud sob escaped his tortured body, he braced himself for the last mile of the journey.

“Three left.” Eren said. “Can you do it?”

“Yes, Sir.” Levi snivelled, tasting the salt of his tears. The mucus collected at the edges of his nose and he sniffed, not able to care about the mess of his face. He needed this now, and he hoped Eren knew that from the tone of his voice, from the way his body shook.

“Let’s make them really count, then, shall we?”

Levi could only nod his consent.

Smack number three jolted his frame forward, the cry tearing from his throat. His ass throbbed in protest, and he could only imagine the angry, red mark of Eren’s hand lingering on his rump. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he hoped it would stay forever. A permanent mark, tying him eternally to the only man he loved. For there could never be another that he loved, and was loved by, like this.

“...T-Three, Sir…!”

Number two kissed his other cheek with such force Levi could only whimper, the sound long and drawn, like a wounded animal.

“T-Two, Sir…!” He stuttered, spitting the syllables out as little more than a breathless gasp. His heart pounded, thundering in his chest. The finish line was within reach.

One more to go. One final test of his strength, of his dedication, of his love.

“Beg for it, Levi.”

“...Ah…?”

“If you want it,” Eren said, his voice dripping challenge, “then you need to beg for it.”

Levi lay across Eren’s knees, his body quaking from head to toe. Eyes swollen, he could barely see the bland carpet beneath him. His cheeks were stained with tears and humiliation, burning red hot and deep. Even his nose was touched with scarlet, a glimmer of mucus collecting above his bitten lips. His backside, a masterpiece of vermilion painted by Eren’s hand alone, throbbed in tandem to his heartbeat.

Could he make himself ask for the final one?

Could he form the words on quivering lips, that trembled even now, as if to ghost the unspoken plea?

“I…” His voice croaked. He cleared his throat, and tried again. Did he want it, or need it?

Want and need. Which was it? Why was it so hard to choose?

Admitting to wanting it, admitting to needing it. They were both as heavy, weighing on his pride in equal measure. He knew that when he opened his mouth, the last inch of his dignity would be crushed by his choice.

When he left this room, later on, he would curse Eren for putting him in this position. He would have him clean the kitchen floor with a toothbrush, or cut the grass with nothing but scissors. But these thoughts didn’t come to im now. They were for later, when he donned the suit of his everyday persona once more.

Here, he was barely holding onto his name.

The two concepts rattled around his brain. Want. Need. Want. Need.

“Please, Sir. I need… I need it.”

“You need what, exactly?” Eren asked as casually as if it were a simple request being made of him. For Levi, it was insurmountable, and Eren’s relaxed approach only elevated his position above him, while lowering Levi yet further still.

“I need the punishment, Sir. Please, may I have the last strike?”

“There’s a good girl.” Eren praised, and Levi’s heart sored.

He felt it swell and grow too big for his chest, the beat growing unsteady as it escaped out his throat. He choked on it, a fresh trail of tears running hotly down his cheeks as he struggled for air. He was suddenly drowning, submerged under the depths of his elation.

Eren’s hand rained down one final blow, a sure and steady swipe to his cheek, where it had all started some nine swats before. The pain and pleasure rushed through Levi’s body, as if Eren had struck every nerve in him in one fell swoop. In his ears, the sound echoed as if forever, matched by his cry, sharp and true.

He didn’t realize he was hard, nor on the verge of coming, until his cock jerked, spilling his load onto Eren’s thighs. The orgasm was intense, crashing over him and chasing out the pain. He rode the wave, his vision fading as it reached its height, and what happened after that, he could not be sure.

 


 

“Does it hurt?”

“What the hell do you think?”

“I’ll be gentle.”

“Too late for that now.” Levi remarked, breath hissing between clenched teeth. In contrast to earlier, Eren’s hand rubbed a soothing balm across his ass, the cooling sensation sinking in to him in circular motions. Levi traced the pattern in his mind, to keep his focus as Eren tended to him.

“Does it feel alright now? I’m not pressing too hard, am I?”

“Eren…” Levi’s tone was warning. “Just get on with it.”

“There you are.” Eren said, the smile evident in his voice. “I was wondering when you would come back.”

Levi understood. He understood that to mean he was returning to himself, to the man with the bills to pay and housework to do - though, one less chore if he made Eren do it instead.

He smiled faintly, squeezing the pillow in arms. He was lucky to have a guy like Eren in his life; he knew what he was doing, he knew the delicate balance between pain and pleasure, and how to weave them together.

Maybe he wouldn’t make Eren clean the kitchen floor with a toothbrush after all.