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A Good Friday

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"I can't do this," Eren says, grabbing Armin's shoulders and giving him a good shake. "The Captain's gonna kill me just for bringing it up."

"In which case you have two options: death for enabling theft, or death for suggesting that you help relieve the Captain's stress." The completely analytic tone Armin takes while discussing his best friend's potential murder is unnerving.

It was all Jean's fault.

No, that's a lie. It was Eren's fault first, for supporting Sasha's plot to steal the alcohol from their commanding officers' office, and for being overheard. Honest to Sina, he had meant it as a joke and now it has come back to bite him in the ass, leaving behind marks in the form of horse dentures.

"I won't tell the Captain," Jean had said. "If you polish my boots, organize my cot every morning, share your rations, ask Mikasa to go out with me...—" Eren did it all (except that last one) with a grumble and long winding rants towards anyone who would listen.

But this? This is crossing a line. This is crossing a very dangerous line.

"I won't tell the Captain you stole the Commander's liquor... if you offer him a sensual massage."

The blatant mockery of Jean's words had assuaged Eren's instant panic, realizing that he had been joking. But, being the jerk he is, Jean got a kick out of Eren's freak out and pushed hard enough to get him here: outside Levi's office.

"You don't have to do this, Eren," Armin says, clinging to his jacket sleeve. "Be the better man and walk away."

"No, I mean, how bad can it actually be? I'll just ask him. If he says no, then that's that. I went through with it and Jean can't tell me shit for it because I can't just force the Captain... right? I can do this. I can ask him."

"Ask me what, Jaeger?" Startled, the two of them whip around to face Levi, whose crossed arms and pinched eyebrows reek of suspicion. "What are you two doing in front of my office?"

Eren makes a mental note to later thank Armin for being such a great friend for staying by his side... even if he's the one keeping him in place, holding his forearm in a death grip. Neither of them speak, too stunned to say anything.

Fortunately, Levi's impassiveness tends to trump his patience. To be honest, it makes him all the more terrifying. "Well?"

"Eren wishes to be of service to you but he is too embarrassed to offer himself, sir!"

"Armin!" Eren glares at Armin, betrayed beyond measure.

"I'm sorry!"

There's a beat of awkward silence that's spent fidgeting under the Captain's gaze, positively mortified by Armin's choice of words. He didn't have to make it sound like he wanted to sleep with Levi; now there's no way the Captain would want Eren's hands on him. Not that that's a bad thing, Eren quickly thinks to himself, but it's too late. His face already feels hot, which means his cheeks are probably pink.

Levi hums, but he can't tell if it's a good or a bad kind of hum. "Come with me," he says, perfectly neutral, and Eren is sure he's signed his death certificate.

When Levi's back is turned towards them, Eren gives Armin a weak smile he hopes conveys his gratitude for a lifelong friendship.

Much to Eren's surprised, through the dark and desolate corridors of the castle, Levi leads him to the infirmary, where he gestures for Eren to step inside and shuts the door behind them.

"You want to tell me what the fuck you two are on about?" he says, standing in front of Eren with crossed arms and a lethal look in his eyes.

"Um..." The fact that someone of his stature can intimidate him so much is still ridiculous. The way he squares off his shoulders, and yet refrains from making himself look aggressive (more so than usual) is a living testament to the sheer authority in his voice. "I just, uh, wanted to make sure that everything is all right with you, sir? No, wait, I mean, I wanted to make myself useful."

Normally, Eren is a lot better at communicating with his officer, but right now, the basic functions of his brain are failing him. The infirmary is tiny and stuffy, and there's a door between them and the rest of the Corps. They have privacy, and Eren's hormones can't take that without acting up.

"If that's what you need, Aurou made a mess in the kitchen. You can make yourself useful by cleaning it."

Of course Levi would make this difficult for him, why wouldn't he.

"No, that's not what I mean. More like... well..." Eren takes a deep breath and tries to calm his shaking hands. "You're always so tense—" Words fail him, but he can't stop now, not when Levi is looking at him as if Eren has personally spat on his cravat. "I was just wondering if you would like t-to relieve it with me. No, wait! I mean, like, maybe I could give you a rub. On your foot! A foot rub. Or a shoulder massage! Completely respectful, sir!"

Eren snaps his mouth shut, his heart ramming against his ribs hard enough to hurt. Under Levi's intense scrutiny, he's pretty sure he's sweating more than Berthold usually does.

Much to his surprise, Levi slips out of his jacket.

"I'm going to pretend that you know what you're doing despite knowing that you don't," he says, dropping his hands to undo the apron around his hips. "I'm desperate enough."

The admission makes Eren's heart beat even faster, making him feel faint. "S-Sir?"

"Deep tissue massages are all the rage in Sina," Levi says, casual enough to make Eren think that the Captain is only playing a dirty joke on him. "They're good for relieving tension headaches and the sort. The MP shoved a stick so far up Erwin's ass he didn't even allow us some time to unwind."

His movements are hypnotizing. There's nothing sexy about them, because he's not trying to be. Levi sheds a piece of clothing, neatly folds it, and places it on the chair. He gets to undoing his harness, a long and tedious process, but Eren enjoys every moment of it. If Levi catches on, he doesn't mention it.

"I'll coach you through it," he says once he's down to his shirt, pants and boots.

He removes his cravat, and Eren is enraptured by the reveal of creamy skin. The first button becomes undone, and suddenly he sees sharp collarbones that are littered with tiny cuts and healing bruises. Eren sees skin, Captain Levi's skin, and his breathing grows as tight as his pants.

He's not sure how it happens, why it even happens, or why his brain chooses right then to ponder his decisions in life, but by the time he comes to, Levi is naked, and he's looking at Eren with the most unimpressed stare he's capable of mustering.

Eren watches the sway of his hips, the bounce of his ass as he makes his way around the room and — for all that is holy — he bends over to rummage through a supply cabinet. Muscular thighs, a thick waist, wide back, broad shoulders. Levi is a walking wet dream and it takes every ounce of self-control for Eren to not touch himself.

Straightening up, he casts a glass bottle at Eren, who barely catches it. Oil that warms to the touch, perfect for healing strained muscles, and for other things Eren forces himself to not think about.

By the time he looks up, Levi has already accommodated himself on the cot, face down, arms by his sides.

His eyes are closed, dark lashes brushing his pale cheeks. His dark hair is combed out of the way, and it frames his angular face to the point where he looks well and truly beautiful.

This is a bad idea.

This is a very bad idea.

Eren curses as he walks closer, removing the bottle's stopper and hovering over Levi's naked body. His hands are shaking, and his eyes refuse to look away from the perfect mounds of his ass. He has dimples.

"I trust you understand the basics of a massage," Levi says, growing impatient. He doesn't open his eyes, but Eren can sense the glare behind his eyelids.

Swallowing around the knot in his throat, Eren moves closer and tips the bottle, letting oil drizzle onto the scarred planes of Levi's back.

He's no expert, true enough, but just as Levi mentioned, he does know the basics. Commons sense, and all of that.

Hesitantly, he smears the oil along Levi's back, first with one hand, and then with both. He spreads it out until his skin is glistening under the candlelight, and then pours more oil to cover the areas he couldn't reach. Levi is hot to the touch, and Eren can feel his muscles shift and move beneath his palms.

"You're supposed to press down," Levi says. "Sink in your fingers."

"Wouldn't that hurt?" he says, suddenly scared at the prospect of hurting him.

"It's supposed to." Levi opens an eye to look at him. "I'll tell you to stop if I'm uncomfortable."

Eren licks his lips and nods his head, but by then Levi has already shut his eye again.

Looking for a spot around that cot that will make this easier, he settles on standing at the end, between Levi's feet. The cot itself is too low, and it would be difficult to get the top of his back without falling on top of him, but Eren tries anyway.

Bracing his hands on Levi's hips, he presses down and pushes them upward, feeling the ripple of muscle, the softness of his sides, and eventually the ridges of his ribs. He arcs his hands along his shoulder blades and drags them back down on either side of his spine, fingers splayed to cover more ground.

Eren watches, fascinated by the way Levi exhales and eases into the cot, the tension melting out of him. He repeats the same motion over and over again, each time slower than the last, stopping only to add more oil when it seeps into his skin. By the tenth time, Levi's breathing is deep and calm, and warmth settles in Eren's gut.

He moves downward and applies oil to the back of Levi's thighs and calves, taking the time to dish out a good rub on each leg. Eren lets his fingers sink in, drinks in the way the pale skin reddens when he applies too much pressure. At one point, he focuses on Levi's feet, smiles at how small and cute his toes are as he massages every little crease.

Eren's demise begins when his concentration slips, looking up while working on Levi's feet. The trail up Levi's legs isn't a long one, but the angle he's in grants him a sight that will keep him jerking off until he's thirty. The curve between thigh and ass is pronounced, that dent of skin unblemished. But most importantly, with his legs spread, Eren can see Levi's balls cushioned against the cot, as well as a peek of his cock.

He immediately straightens up, face feeling hot enough to melt right off.

There's a long moment in which he finds himself at a loss of what to do, remembering that he's yet to do Levi's arms. Doing so will put him directly over Levi, in a very compromising position his teenage dick is very enthusiastic for.

Grabbing the bottle with shaking hands, he leans over him and pours oil onto his shoulders with the intent of smearing it down his arms. He refrains from looking at his ass more than is strictly necessary, and gets to it.

His biceps are thick and hard, pure muscle. Humanity's Strongest, Eren thinks, and his cock gives a rude jerk at the thought. He's rubbing a naked Levi with oil. With muscles as thick and powerful as these, there isn't a thing Levi couldn't do to him. He could decide that he's done with the massage, get up, pin Eren to the wall and effortlessly fuck him senseless.

But, right now, Eren is the one who wants to do the fucking. Levi is right here, underneath him, naked and slick and relaxed. Even his legs are parted. All Eren has to do is slip inside...

"You're not done," Levi says, and Eren nearly jumps, having lost himself to his lewd thoughts.

"Sorry," he replies, realizing that he had stopped in order to daydream. He has, however, rubbed away at every spot he could reach. Except that one, for obvious reasons.
Levi huffs, and much to Eren's dismay, he flexes his ass.

"Do those get tense, too?" Eren almost slaps a hand over his own mouth before remembering the oil. Mortification sets in, and he has half a mind to run right out of the infirmary.

Levi chuckles. "There's something else that's stiff," he says, offering Eren the ghost of a provocative smile. "Keep doing a good job and I might let you take care of that as well."

Eren's mouth waters against his better judgment.

This time, he pours the oil directly into the palm of his hand and rubs them together before settling them on top of his thighs. Eren pushes upward, finally letting his hands knead Levi's ass.

They're surprisingly soft, evenly sculpted and perfectly round. He's seen women with a less attractive backside. He rubs and squeezes, careful to keep himself in line... but he isn't a saint. Eren is rubbing his groin against the ledge of the cot for the sake of relief.

Levi lets go of a soft groan, and Eren instinctively squeezes his cheeks, his thumb coming dangerously close to the ring of muscle. This time, Levi full out moans, his hips barely moving at the touch.

Embarrassed, Eren pulls away. "Feel any better, sir?" Try as he may to keep his voice even, the words tremble on the way out.

First, Levi's fingers twitch, and then he's moving on the cot, pushing himself onto his knees so that he can move to lay on his back.

Eren looks away, hands in front of his crotch when the sight shifts from pleasant to divine.

Levi settles down, runs a hand through his hair to comb it away from his face and looks at Eren expectantly. It's the same look he always gives when asking if he's done cleaning; a look that says that he knows he isn't, but is only being polite by asking.

There are a few things Eren should concentrate on, like the scar of a deep gash on his chest, or the array of smaller cuts along his abdomen. But, no. His hormones need to betray him, guiding his eyes to the plump cock that rests against his thigh.

He's bigger than Eren, thicker, but not longer. His also has less skin.

Eren's knees grow weak at the reminder that he made Levi hard, no one else. It was his hands that got Levi just as horny as he is.

"Get on with it," Levi says, fixing him with a look that drips heat.

Sucking in a breath and holding it, Eren walks to stand beside the cot, mindful of the embarrassing bulge in his pants. Levi is kind enough to close his eyes again, still adamant to get a full blown massage rather than a sexual favor. Exhaling slowly, Eren doesn't know how to feel about that.

Torn between desire and envy, Eren pours a liberal amount of oil onto Levi's chest, and he watches it race down towards his toned stomach, until it comes to a rest, pooling in his navel. He breathes in again when he places his hands on Levi's stomach, hard and smooth under his palms, and moves.

First, he decides on stroking. Just gentle touches that do wonders at melting away the crease between Levi's eyebrows, and smoothing out the frown on his lips. His face goes blank, but the peaceful kind of blank, as Eren softly touches him.

Eren eventually grows bolder, moving towards the head of the cot to knead at Levi's shoulders, where his muscles are incredibly tense despite his calmness. He digs his thumbs into the raised muscle, presses down with his palms' heels as his fingers brush his neck and collarbones.

Levi's lips part, his breathing turning slightly uneven.

Leaving his shoulders behind, Eren sinks lower, dragging his hands down Levi's chest and, riding out a high of confidence, letting his pinkies flick his nipples.

He hears Levi mutter a "fuck," but he doesn't stop his venturing southward. Eren drives his hands evenly, pressing down every here and there and, once he reaches Levi's cock, he lets his thumbs drag underneath it.

Pride surges in his chest when Levi gasps, a soft and muted sound.

As Eren pulls away, he straightens out his hands and drags them upward, making sure to leave no inch of his upper body untouched.

Eren smiles when he discovers Levi looking up at him, his eyes slanted but dark. He tips his head to the side, coquettish, as he licks his lips. "I didn't give you permission to stop," he says, his voice breathy.

Eren doesn't answer, touching down his chest again, but this time, he stops at his pectorals. His thumbs press up to Levi's nipples, circles them before pressing down. They're sensitive, if the way Levi tries so hard not to squirm is anything to go by.

"Relaxed yet?" Eren asks, going with the hot flow that Levi set in motion.

"Eat me."

There's no humor in his words, no sarcasm. It sounds like a legitimate order and it throws Eren off. He's heard the term 'blow me' and 'suck me', but never 'eat me', and the connotation doesn't go lost on him. Levi is appealing to his darker, more animalistic instinct, the same one he tries to desperately suppress.

Mind in a haze, Eren moves towards the foot of the cot again, taking Levi by the legs and pulling him closer to the ledge. He goes without complaint, spreading his legs for Eren to devour him whole.

Nervousness shoved towards the back of his mind, Eren leans down and laps at Levi's cock like a parched dog. He doesn't know the first thing about giving head, but he knows that mouths go on cocks. He kisses the underside of it, licks long paths from base to tip.

"Take it into your mouth," Levi coaches, sounding wrecked. "No teeth. Just suck the head."

Eren does as he's told, albeit clumsily, and the result is a chorus of aborted sounds that has pleasure tying itself into knots in his balls. Levi is surprisingly loud, beautifully open as Eren pulls him apart despite his inexperience.

His hands come up again, tickling the inside of his thighs as his mouth trails downward to press kisses to Levi's balls. He tugs at the skin and Levi all but writhes on the cot, not bothering to keep his voice in check.

Overwhelmed by it, Eren uses one of his hands to fondle himself through his pants, the other to push between the softness of Levi's asscheeks.

He searches for it with his middle finger, and when he does, he presses down. Eren doesn't breach his entrance, but he does apply a significant amount of pressure on it while sucking Levi's cockhead into his mouth.

There's nothing he wants more than to roll in his scent, eat him up, as well as the cute little noises he makes for him. Only ever for him.

"Is it good, Captain?" Eren asks, and is perplexed by the small jerk of Levi's body and a silent gasp.

He realizes what it is that's happened, thanks to the wet hotness now sticking to his face.

Levi is left trembling, extremities limp and heavy-lidded eyes trained on Eren. His stomach is now painted with come and oil, but, as Eren had hoped, he looks relaxed.

"Apparently milk is also good for you," Levi says, his words amazingly even. At Eren's confusion, he smirks. "You should work yours into my skin."

Jaw going slack, Eren doesn't waste a second.

He fumbles with his pants, cursing when oil-slicked fingers refuse to work on the zipper.

Levi laughs, genuinely so, as he watches Eren struggle to free himself from the confines of his pants.

Hand wrapped firmly around his cock, Eren strokes, not bothering with any of that teasing crap. He's almost already there, has been since the moment Levi took his clothes off. All he needs are a few pumps, a few squeezes to the tip and he'll finish.

Almost... almost...

"Look at you," Levi murmurs, his face contorted between disgust, arousal, and bone-deep satisfaction. "If I'd let you, you'd hump me like a dog, wouldn't you? I wouldn't mind." Placing a hand over his chest, Levi drags it down with an interested chuckle. "Your cock should fit perfectly inside of me."

Eren comes with a surprised gasp, the words too much to handle.

The two of them lock eyes, until Eren is too embarrassed to go on. He looks down at the mess he's made of his Captain's stomach, but doesn't have it in him to complain. Instead, he touches his fingers to it, mixing their come until it's no longer warm.

They are both going to need a shower.

"I don't want to move," Levi says, managing to sound perplexed.

It's so unexpected that Eren has to laugh. "I'm glad that you enjoyed that, sir."

"I should request massages more often."

Eren's chest warms, and he nods, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand and grimacing at the stickiness he finds. "Next time, I'll go even deeper." If it sounds cheesy rather than sexy, Eren doesn't care, because Levi nods in agreement and that is all that matters.