Chapter Text
Levi had another fight — this time, a German kid named Reiner Braun. Lovoff, his prompter, warned him that Braun had a chin of steel, making him a tough opponent, but Levi didn't worry too much about it. These young, inexperienced, on-punch wonders didn’t have Levi’s stamina or technique. Levi could still win by landing precise blows, connecting fists and body shots. His fights rarely lasted all twelve rounds, resulting in the judges’ decisions. Levi mostly knocked his opponents after a few rounds to make it seem like he was struggling a little against them. If the crowd knew no one posed a real threat to Levi, they wouldn’t come. After all, the only thing the crowd wanted was a raw, bloody spectacle with cracked bones and missing teeth.
Since his last brawl, Levi hadn't laid a finger on Smith's cash. Dirty money. He still had principles, refusing to spend the earnings he'd acquired by spreading his legs instead of throwing fists. It wasn't a fortune, but it bought Levi a month of freedom from the ring. Yet, rest wasn't in Levi's vocabulary; when the chance presented itself, he jumped back into the fray—no rest for the wicked.
He hated to admit it, but ever since he encountered Smith at Raal's inn, Levi felt a surge of strength coursing through his body. His muscles were invigorated, and his mind was crystal clear. Sparring or working on kinesthetics no longer felt like a chore. Even Zacharias, his trainer, noticed the transformation.
"Changed something in your training? New diet or supplement?" Zacharias asked, but Levi dismissed him with a click of his tongue.
"Nah, not that I know of," Levi grunted, rolling his shoulder. The truth was off-limits; Levi couldn't tell his trainer,'Yeah, Mike, I got fucked good and hard by a stranger in a suit. Smelled like cigarettes and made me so wet I nearly flooded the floor. Didn’t even need to use his cock.' There was no way anyone would hear about that encounter.
"Well, keep doing whatever you're doing. You've never been in better form."
Levi spat and threw a few more punches. Zacharias was right; Levi was stronger than ever, as if the stranger had breathed new life into him. It seemed all Levi needed was a proper lay, and his performance would peak.
Leading up to the match, Levi stuck to his routine, spending days in the gym, focusing solely on his training. In these moments, right before a fight, he couldn't help but miss his old man, Kenny. Despite the ass-kicking, Kenny knew how to train a champion. And regardless of all his flaws and constant scrutiny, he believed Levi could be one, contrary to the world's opinion. He used to say, ‘Don’t listen to anyone, boy. You were born to shine and put big men to sleep. Knock them out cold.’
Zacharias was a lackluster substitute for Kenny. Still, having a sparring partner built like a bull was an advantage, allowing Levi to face the heavyweights he typically encountered. Such a matchup would be unthinkable in the professional boxing world. A guy like him, standing at 160 centimeters, would never be allowed to face towering two-meter behemoths. One advantage of only fighting in a lawless underground arena for the entertainment of drug lords and criminals was that no rules of professional boxing applied. Here, they fought glove-less, to the blood; a dog-eat-dog world.
After his grueling training session, he returned to his cramped apartment, utterly spent and bone-tired. Following a long, hot shower, he sprawled on the bed, occasionally glancing at the contract Smith had handed him. It lay on the nightstand, and despite his instincts urging him otherwise, he hadn't tossed it in the trash. On some evenings, especially after an adrenaline-filled bout of sparring, his body hummed with pent-up energy, he'd stretch out on the bed and attempt to read a few sentences. But the language proved impenetrable to Levi—some highfalutin lawyer jargon. Despite his best efforts to decipher the corporate talk, all Levi could recall was Erwin's proposal: "Fight for me, Levi. Fight, and I will make you a champion. I would make you a star." The proposal sounded tempting, but it left a sour taste in his mouth. "But in return, Levi, you would have to spread your legs for me. Me and me alone."
Levi cursed himself for even considering such a proposition. He wasn't a whore, not that there was anything wrong with it. Hell, he grew up in a brothel. Sex didn't bother him; it was the callousness of the man, the audacity to propose such a thing to a stranger, waltzing in thinking he could seduce Levi with his velvet suit and the scent of old luxury. No, others might fall for such tricks, but not Levi. He knew their kind—the bank investors, politicians, real estate developers, all those white-collar professionals who believed that just because they earned some money (or their daddy left them a trust fund), they could buy whatever and whoever they wanted.
Not Levi. Not a chance.
The night of Levi's fight, Lovoff called him.
"Your secret admirer, Smith, is in the audience again. Wants to meet you after the match. Insists it's just for an autograph, nothing more."
"Yeah, right," Levi grumbled. "I'm not meeting him, no matter how much he offered to pay you."
"Come on, Sugar, think about it. What would your old man say if he saw you passing up on a good offer?"
"Dunno. If you ever see him, you can ask him. I sure as hell won't be speaking to that bastard anymore after he ditched me and left me with you, of all people."
"Sugar, watch your tongue. I was the only one who saw potential in a scrawny little freak like you."
"Yeah, and you would have tossed me out all the same if I didn't prove to be a good bet," Levi bit back.
"Okay, okay," Lovoff said. "Calm down, will ya? Yeesh, aren't you in a mood today?! We'll discuss it after the match."
"Fine," Levi sighed.
"Just remember, don't get knocked out. The bets are stacked in Braun's favor. If you want to make me some extra cash, just stay on your feet until the end. Make it to round twelve."
"Sure," Levi said before abruptly ending the call. All these crooked dealings and wagers were getting on his nerves.
Levi reached the arena, a sprawling underground parking lot vast enough to host a thousand spectators. The crowd had already erupted into cheers and boos as the undercard matches commenced. In his dressing room, Levi closed his eyes and focused, seeking that optimal zone where his body and mind worked as one. He aimed to reach that heightened state where adrenaline spiked; a white fury possessed his body, and instead of a mere mortal, he transformed into a menace.
Inside the ring, Reiner already stood waiting—a heavyweight exceeding 120 kilograms. If Levi were nothing more than a regular man, he'd never stand a chance. But Levi wasn't just any man; he was an Ackerman, an extinct breed of warriors. As the bell rang, Levi honed in on his opponent, planning to adopt a defensive strategy until he could figure out Braun's vulnerabilities. Reiner moved deliberately; if just one of his punches landed, he would cause Levi damage. However, Levi remained agile, circling around him with fists poised near his chin. By the third round, he understood his adversary better. He wore him down with relentless attacks, targeting the body to make him slow and sluggish so that, in the end, Levi could pounce and deliver those finishing blows to Reiner's temple.
But by the fifth round, Levi grew overconfident and attempted a chin shot – a big mistake. Reiner landed an uppercut that struck Levi’s brow, splitting the skin and causing blood to spurt and run down into his eye.
“Motherfucker,” Levi spat, blinking the blood away. The bleeding was relentless. In a regulated match, the judges would've already called it in Reiner's favor, but there was no such thing as safety in the underground bare-knuckle circuit. Levi’s self-defense instincts roared to life. Time seemed to slow, the world reduced to a crawl. Reiner’s contorted face, every muscle in his neck, was visible in extreme detail. Levi spat and leaped recklessly into the air without a care for danger. He roared as he struck his opponent’s temple. Bam! Blood flowed from his own wound, and his adversary swayed on his feet, nearly collapsing on top of Levi. But Levi was quicker, so he seized the opportunity to land on his feet and deliver several more body shots that sent Reiner crashing to the floor.
“Finish him! Make him bleed! Destroy him!” the voices within him roared, bloodlust clawing from within. “Sugar, Sugar, Sugar!”
The voices grew louder, and Levi’s vision blurred, a world awash in red. Blood was all he saw, his own mingling with his opponent’s.
“More. Hit him again.” The voices in his mind prodded him. In his ear, Kenny’s laughter resounded, his grin stretching wide like a Cheshire cat. “Spill his brains, kill him!”
Levi unleashed another punch and then another, his body tingling. Finally, the bell rang, and he found himself with bloodied hands, perched atop his fallen opponent, delivering punches to his chest.
“Sugar, stop!” someone shouted, possibly Zacharias. A firm hand gripped Levi’s back, attempting to pull him away. “Stop, stop! That’s enough. He’s down, you won!”
Levi stayed silent, the crimson haze still shrouding him, his heart pounding in his throat. Despite the victory, a lingering sense of danger persisted. The feral echoes within him clamored for their reward, spurred on by his triumph. Before the judge could declare him the winner, a surge of nausea rose in Levi's throat. His vision wavered, and his body craved more. In a frantic sprint, he bolted from the ring, desperate to escape. Out, out, just get the hell out! He raced to the dressing room, wiping the flowing blood from his brow.
"Dammit. Lost control!" he cursed, haunted by memories of Reiner's bloodied face. Reiner's body had crashed to the floor, battered and trembling. He had pleaded with Levi to stop, but Levi hadn't listened; he hadn't even tried to halt, despite already securing victory. Sick, unpredictable, and dangerous—maybe he belonged chained up, confined in solitary. An animal meant for a cage, not roaming free among men.
As the anomaly in his blood stirred, his mind became hazy, craving one thing and one thing alone. To be touched, to be taken, to be consumed by the same violence he had just unleashed—fucked into a boneless, screaming mess by a large man with a cigar.
Levi slipped into clean clothing and called a cab to take him home. He needed to get there as quickly as possible to tend to his cravings. As he made his way out, Lovoff shouted something at him, probably about getting his brow stitched, but it was of no importance. Everything else could wait.
“Levi, come back. That new guy, Smith, is waiting for his autograph,” Lovoff urged, shaking Levi.
An image of Erwin, seated in a leather chair, swirled into Levi’s mind. His handsome face emerged from the haze, whispering seductive promises that stirred desire, his long, thick fingers gliding between slicked folds. Damn it, not again. Levi’s heartbeat quickened, and he released a feeble moan between labored breaths. He wanted him – needed his fat cock inside him.
“I feel sick. I need to go.”
“You need to get checked. You could have a concussion.”
“Nah. No. I’m good,” Levi muttered. “Need to go.”
He raced to the street and toward the waiting car, desperately attempting to focus on anything other than the storm of lewd thoughts consuming his mind. Throughout the entire ride, he counted his breaths, scratched at the palms of his bleeding hands, and rocked back and forth like an addict in dire need of a fix. When the driver finally dropped him off, he emptied his pockets and tossed every last coin he had before firmly shutting the car door.
His apartment welcomed him with the lingering scent of disinfectant, the powerful aroma of chemicals permeating every surface. Despite its overpowering odor, Levi found it oddly comforting, as it was the one thing he could still control—his immediate surroundings, the state of his home. Despite the ongoing battle against a cockroach infestation spreading through the walls and pipes of neighboring apartments, Levi had managed to keep his room free from pests – a small mercy.
Levi crumpled onto the bed, his hand instinctively finding its way between his legs, seeking the longed-for release. He tugged down the waistband of his joggers and fumbled through the drawer next to his bedstand to retrieve a massive wand vibrator — as sizeable as his forearm and with a lifetime warranty. His fingers found the power button and turned the toy on. Levi arched his hips, eagerly awaiting the hum. A surprised yelp escaped Levi’s lips as the vibrations purred to life between his legs. Holy fuck, at last.
In the solace of his room, beneath the cloak of darkness, there were no pretenses to uphold, no eyes scrutinizing him like in the ring, no need for an elaborate performance. It was just Levi and the festering desire scratching and eating him from within. This lust wasn’t just for sex, a quick orgasm in his sweat-drenched sheets. No, he yearned to become entirely consumed, filling that inner void. He needed to let go, slip out of his skin, and transform into his most primal self. Stop being the neat, orderly Levi and turn into something else, a being who could only communicate by grunting and grinding his sex until he reached completion.
Yet, the vibrations weren’t enough. His throbbing sex slid over the wand’s head, lips spread over the pulsating bulb. More, more, more. But the buzzing felt artificial, too predictable, and monotonous. There was no excitement, only relief from the itch, and despite his best efforts, he couldn’t get there.
“Shit!” Levi shouted in frustration, tossing the toy to the other side of the bed, urgently searching for something else.
He grabbed the largest dildo he owned, positioning himself to ride it. Gritting his teeth, he descended upon the toy’s ribbed length and began to rock his hips, summoning every ounce of strength in his lithe body to chase after the same euphoria that Smith’s fingers and lips had so readily provided. The toy felt cold, sizable, but not enough. It couldn’t offer him what he desperately craved. Levi spat out a curse, ruthlessly fucking the toy. No, no, no—come on, come on! He repeated like a mantra, trying different angles and positions; on his back, sideways, in front of the mirror. And yet… nothing.
“Why, why?!” Levi cried, impaling himself on the dildo. “I can’t—”
Levi scrambled, fumbling to find the vibrator. He pressed it to his aching clit. His body jolted up as if he was a victim of an electric shock. It hurt, but the high intensity somehow did the trick. His body contorted, convulsed, and reached a quick peak. Blink, and it’s gone. Instead of relief, it only made him even more frustrated. He lay in his bed, drenched in sweat and painfully horny.
“More,” Levi whimpered, pressing the toy against himself once again. But the buzzing left only numbness. Still, Levi continued to grind against it, his fingers aching.
“Levi, don’t be so stubborn,” a voice intruded upon his mind. Smith’s voice. “Come to me, and I’ll give you everything you need.”
“Shut up!” Levi bellowed into his empty room. “Leave me alone, you sick bastard!”
“But, Levi... oh, sweet little thing, wouldn’t it feel better to have me there—”
“No!” Levi yelled, curling into a ball. “I’m in control—not you.”
He clutched his pillow, straddling it between his thighs, grinding against it until he had no strength left, collapsing into restless fragments of sleep. In his dreams, he found himself back in the back room, perched on Smith’s thigh, inhaling the smoky tendrils that coiled around his lips and sharing a bottle of whiskey mouth-to-mouth. “Good boy,” Smith’s voice purred as he stroked Levi’s back. “What do you need, my sweet sugar?” Levi whimpered, yearning for a kiss. A kiss, he believed, would realign everything, much like setting a dislocated joint right. Smith responded with an empathetic, yet probing smile. But then, instead of a kiss, he descended lower, trailing Levi’s pelvis, spreading his legs wide. His face disappeared between Levi’s thighs, and he delved into the swollen folds. The mere sensation of his lips down there sent Levi’s mind spiraling. His thighs clenched, finally reaching that warm ecstasy. He came instantly, squirting into the man’s eager mouth, sobbing in his sleep.
“There you are, sweet thing,” Smith whispered into his ear. “See, it’s better if you don’t resist me? This was just a taste of what I could offer if you’d accept my offer.”
When Levi woke up, he was in a cold sweat.
“Shit,” Levi cursed, discarding the drenched sheets to the floor and stripping the mattress bare.
The bloodlust lingered, intensifying with each passing day, and Levi's condition deteriorated. Unyielding desire coursed through him, a potent mix of gasoline and a struck match, consuming him in a self-immolating cocktail. Levi, who had never dabbled in drugs, could only imagine that this was what it felt like to be high out of his mind. Sleep became elusive, and his appetite dwindled to nothing. Even the meager sustenance he managed to force down tasted like vinegar. The doctor suggested sleeping pills, but Levi knew they wouldn't work. The rush of combat, the pleasure of release—nothing could satiate it. His fingers ached for a fight, any fight.
During the day, he trained relentlessly, attempting to expend the pent-up, frenetic energy. It proved futile. As the days passed, the persistent buzz inside him intensified, almost threatening to seize control of his body. Relief only came in his dreams, where Smith's phantom whispered in his ear, touched him with fingers and tongue, eyes gleaming with an azure light. After weeks of torment, he considered giving in. Levi flipped through the contract, studying the business card. What if he called Smith? Would it be a defeat, a blow to his pride? After all, he had let the man fuck him already once – perhaps ripping off the bandage and doing it again was the way forward.
Yet something deep within his gut urged him to resist. Never before had someone held such power over him. He had managed on his own in the past, navigating the cycle of violence and satisfying himself afterward. Now, his world had shifted on its axis. If he caved to the man, he would become addicted to Smith’s touch. Once he signed the contract, it wouldn’t be for a quick fuck — Smith would own him completely. Levi had enough experience in this world to know that nobody acted with pure intentions. People were driven by self-interest, and Smith was no different.
Lovoff called, setting up another fight for Levi, this time against Yaeger’s younger brother. Levi had heard about the kid, a fiery and bloodthirsty young fighter who believed he could punch his way out of any problem. While Braun had been a solid and formidable opponent, Eren Yeager was something else entirely – a true monster. The kid bore a personal vendetta against Levi, aiming to make a name for himself by taking down the reigning underground champion.
Levi pressed a hand against his temple, battling a pounding migraine that threatened to blind him. “If I say no, will I lose my belts?” he asked.
“Why would you decline, Sugar?” Lovoff replied. “You crushed the last guy. The Yaeger kid presents a challenge, but you’re undefeated. You need to accept these offers to maintain your top spot.”
Levi sighed. “Fine, whatever.”
“What’s wrong, kid?” Lovoff asked, without real concern – just words on his tongue.
“Still feeling like crap,” Levi grumbled.
“Did you get your head checked?”
“Yeah, it’s not a concussion.”
“Keep it together, champ. No time to go soft now.”
Levi hung up on his manager, cursing under his breath. Lovoff and his manipulations siphoned off more than half of Levi’s earnings. Smith’s offer tugged at his mind, but Levi dismissed it. Someday, when he earned enough to stand on his own two feet, he wouldn’t have to fight anymore. He could find a different path in life, one that didn’t involve getting bones crushed in a dimly lit alley. Perhaps he could teach self-defense classes and buy a clean, well-kept apartment, maybe even get a cat. It could be nice to have some company after all.
Would working with Smith bring him closer to that future?
Levi sent a brief message to Mike: “Another fight in a week. Back to the ring, I guess.”
He spent the day in bed, bathed in sweat, moving against the vibrating toy. Ever since the encounter with Smith, he couldn’t quell the insatiable need raging within him. It was as if the smoke from the man’s cigar had ignited something, a glitch in him, a burnt wire. The buzz intensified inside his head, coursing through his body, leaving him trembling. He was tired, so, so tired. He didn’t want to fight, himself, or the others. He just wanted to sleep, sink into darkness, and feel absolutely nothing.
In his dreams, the world was drenched in shades of blue. He was never alone, but together with that impeccably dressed man who spoke to him with a gentle voice. “All your dreams can come true with just a signature,” he whispered. Levi pounced on him, as if the man were his opponent in the ring. They tumbled to the ground, crashing onto the unforgiving concrete with a painful thud. Levi bared his teeth and stripped, shedding his fighting uniform. “Shut up!” he screamed, desperately mounting the man and smothering his face between his legs. “For God’s sake, shut up!” He ground against the man’s distinguished nose, rubbing his drooling cunt against the bump. His thighs gripped harder around the man’s neck, fingers grasping at the golden hair. Two gloved hands gripped his buttocks, holding him as he rocked his hips. Smith added the slippery tongue, thrusting it into Levi’s wet heat. “Ah,” Levi cried, squeezing his eyes shut. He rode the man’s tongue, sliding himself across that handsome face.
“Levi, my darling, Levi, come for me, you sweet thing.”
Levi’s climax arrived with an unexpected intensity, startling him awake. He found himself on his knees, unwittingly enacting the scene he just dreamt of. But instead of the man he so desperately yearned for, between his legs lay only a pillow.
“I’m losing my damn mind,” Levi muttered, his voice hoarse from moaning. “This has to stop.”
Levi swore that piercing blue eyes followed him everywhere. Even when awake, he could feel Erwin’s presence around him, burned into his skin. But nothing could compare to what came at night. Each night, Erwin visited his dreams, and each night, his dreams repeated as if locked in a Morbius strip.
Sometimes, Erwin would only watch as Levi jerked off, licking his lips as he gazed at Levi’s naked body. But then there were times Levi felt like Erwin multiplied, becoming a creature with many heads and countless fingers, each one existing only for Levi’s pleasure. If it were possible to die of too much pleasure, Levi surely was close to reaching that thin line.
“Erwin,” Levi exhaled, his words a desperate plea echoing through the vacant room. “What are you doing to me?”
In the corner, the blue haze lifted, turning to dust.
The fight found Levi already worn out, emotionally and physically drained. Deep down, he knew he had no business stepping into the ring, and he should’ve told Lovoff to call it off. Mike had warned him, pointing out that Levi was far from the right headspace. But Levi didn't care anymore. In fact, he almost hoped for a punch hard enough to knock him senseless, as if the physical pain might ease the chaos within him. Part of him even wanted to lose, and who better to deliver it than this furious young fighter, seemingly hell-bent on destroying the world?
Despite his reservations, Levi entered the ring, his footsteps drowned out by the baying crowd. Amid the rowdy mob, his eyes caught sight of Smith, a regal figure in a navy velvet suit, crowned with a hat and toying with a cigar between his gloved fingers. Their eyes met, and Smith’s lips curled into that serpentine smile. "He came for me," Levi mused, unable to take his eyes off him.
“Go on, show me what you can do, my champion,” Erwin’s eyes said. “Fight!”
Levi’s attention immediately shifted to his opponent. Eren charged forward and began his attack with an onslaught of punches. His fierce green eyes locked onto Levi’s, and he struck a defiant posture that screamed confrontation. Before Eren threw the first punch, Levi’s vision darkened, the invisible strings controlling his body for him. His heart pumped blood inside his puppet body, arms and legs moving as a cursed object wielded by a greater power. Levi let go, his mind filled with this tar. It was easier to give control. Win or lose, it didn’t matter. All he needed to do was fight.
What followed were the grating sounds of bones cracking and bodies hitting hard, but whether it was his own bones or his opponent’s breaking, Levi couldn’t tell. His head met the concrete, a burst of blood filling his mouth. Strong hands yanked him up, someone yelling his name over and over. "Levi—Levi—Levi."
Whose voice was that? Did he lose? Is it over, finally, finally over?
“And once more, still standing, still undefeated…the invincible Levi, Sugar, Ackerman,” the judge declared, and the crowd erupted in a thunderous cheer. Levi’s vision cleared, revealing the green-eyed kid staring at him, a mix of awe and horror staining his expression.
“You’re not even human! A goddamn monster!” Eren’s voice quivered, blood dripping from his gums, likely thanks to Levi’s savage punch that had surely shattered his nose. Levi tried to shake his head, but his vision wavered again. All he saw were two fierce blue pinpricks amidst the mass.
Please, I can’t take it anymore…
“Help me,” Levi rasped, extending his bloody hand before the world succumbed to darkness.
Footsteps approached, growing louder and nearer with each step. A hand extended toward Levi’s cheek, gently sweeping his bangs aside. As he reopened his eyes, Smith crouched beside him, bathed in a pool of blood.
“Get away from him!” someone in the background shouted, but Smith’s voice remained eerily calm. “It’s all right. I’m a doctor,” he assured the onlookers, never breaking eye contact with Levi.
“Are you okay?” Smith inquired, the warmth of his touch acting like a soothing ointment for Levi’s torment.
“Ngh,” Levi managed, his head lolling against the man’s chest. His legs gave out, leaving him barely able to stand. Yet the proximity of the enigmatic stranger’s body made him turn boneless and warm. “You won,” Levi whispered.
“What do you need, Levi?” Smith asked, his hand supporting Levi’s back.
“Get me out of here – I can’t –”
“As you wish.”
Just like that, Smith picked him up, helping Levi stand. “I’ll take it from here,” he said to Lovoff.
“Who the fuck are you?” Lovoff shouted, prepared to throw a punch.
“A friend,” Smith replied with a polite smile. “Isn’t that right, Sugar?”
Levi's mouth was as parched as dust in the desert. He tried to speak but couldn’t. All he could manage was a dumb nod, a mere puppet jerked by invisible strings.
“Let’s go,” Smith whispered, slinging an arm around Levi’s waist. “We need some privacy.”
Levi allowed himself to be tugged through the reeking crowd, a cocktail of blood, sweat, and cheap booze turning his stomach. He stumbled and faltered, but Smith’s touch was tender, keeping him close, shielding him from the prying eyes. They made their exit from that underground den and into the street, where a sleek black limousine sat, waiting for them. The driver popped open the car door, and Erwin eased Levi onto a plush tan leather seat. The interior smelled brand new, like an unopened gift, with a faint trace of lemon soap lingering in the air. Levi’s head slumped into the seat, his eyes closed, the pounding in his skull churning his guts.
Smith slid into the seat beside him, and out of all the space inside that roomy car, his hand found its place on Levi’s knee, unashamed and unapologetic.
“What do you want, Smith?” Levi croaked, his eyes squeezed shut as the car’s engine roared to life. He didn’t bother asking about their destination.
“Please, call me Erwin,” the man replied, his fingers tenderly tracing Levi’s cheek, brushing something away—dirt or blood? Levi forced his eyes open, taking in the blood-streaked handkerchief in Erwin’s grip.
“How’d I...” Levi started, fighting to recall the fight’s details.
“Round five, you knocked him out. But it wasn’t pretty. You never show your opponents mercy. Eren Yeager’s loss was a bloodbath.”
Levi clicked his tongue and sighed. “Disgusting. Can’t even control myself.”
“No,” Erwin’s words cut like a knife. “I disagree. You have this violence inside you, but so what? It’s what makes you special. Oh, Levi, I’ve never seen anyone move quite like you. You’re exactly what I’ve been searching for.”
“Yeah, because I’ve got this goddamn cursed blood, this...” Levi grappled with the word. Bloodlust. “Disease.”
Levi squeezed his eyes shut once more, the proximity of that strange, beautiful man only intensifying the tingling sensation coursing through his body. Smith’s, no, Erwin’s hand journeyed up his thigh, drawing nearer to the dampness between his legs. Erwin’s fingers gripped his boxers, dragging them down. Levi jolted upright, his heart a hammer in his throat.
“What in the hell are you doin’?” He gasped for air, but Erwin’s hand steadied him, thumb tracing small circles along the path beneath his navel.
“I want to show you just how extraordinary I think you are,” Erwin purred, his voice like smooth liquor. “Reward you for your magnificent performance in the ring.”
Erwin knelt between Levi’s legs, parting them.
“Sto-op,” Levi stammered, though the protest sounded weak. “Don’t touch me.”
“Don’t resist. I know exactly what’s been filling your dreams since we last met.” Erwin’s teeth grazed Levi’s thigh, and he licked the sweat from his skin. Levi couldn’t... he shouldn’t. He must reek of the fight; God, the stench was probably unbearable.
“What are you doin’?” Levi mumbled, a flush of crimson staining his delicate face. “Back away...”
“Not until I taste you,” Erwin declared, leaning in and breathing Levi in, burying his head between Levi’s legs. “Until I fuck out all of that foul language out of you, Sugar.”
Before Levi could even lift a finger, Erwin’s tongue delved between his slick folds, drawing the swollen nub into his warm mouth. Levi twisted and turned, his body reacting like it was the only thing it was waiting for. He turned into a puddle of moans and guttural cries of pleasure. Erwin’s mouth was anything but gentle, a hungry, voracious exploration, so much like the violence seething within Levi—an oral assault driven by insatiable need. Teeth, a greedy tongue, taking and drinking from Levi as though it might draw blood. Erwin lapped and licked, navigating Levi’s sensitive spots, causing his vision to swirl.
With each passing moment, Levi’s body tightened and contracted, akin to the birth of a universe—on the brink, at the very edge of release. Curses and fervent chants, almost mantra-like, spilled from Levi’s lips. He grasped Erwin’s hair as if holding the reins of a beast, grinding himself against the man’s face, using it as a conduit to find release. Levi’s climax was far from elegant—it was a raw eruption of pleasure. He didn’t moan; he roared. His mouth was awash with saliva, and blood trickled from the reopened cut. Despite the grotesque spectacle of his body’s reaction, his mind soared. An unimaginable lightness engulfed him, and nothing, neither heavenly nor earthly, could compare to Erwin’s mouth.
“Easy now, sweet boy,” Erwin’s voice murmured, imprinting a long, lingering kiss upon Levi’s lower lips.
“More.” Levi quivered, and his words almost sounded like a plea if Levi were a man capable of sweetness. Despite his nickname, sweetness was foreign to him. He was forged as a weapon, meant for the muck and grime of the world. And yet his edges dulled, and his words softened. Perhaps Levi could also get used to gentleness despite what the world made him believe.
“Patience,” Erwin advised, repositioning himself beside Levi. He gently tilted Levi’s chin, their lips locking once more, and Levi could still taste himself on the tip of Erwin’s tongue. Obscene. “I plan on feasting on you the entire night.”
“More…Please, I need it – ”
“If I realized the state you were in, I would have visited you sooner. Alas, now you’ll have to wait a bit longer. Can you do that for me, Levi?”
Levi nodded, on instinct, without thinking.
“Good, that’s good.”
The limo came to a halt, its doors swinging open. The night air carried the scent of a forest, damp and earthy – damp soil after a refreshing rain, a stark contrast to the city’s stench of gasoline and grime.
“Come, we’ve arrived,” Erwin remarked, his fingers gently tracing Levi’s thigh as he adjusted Levi’s boxers.
However, Levi remained sprawled on the limo seat, his legs quivering like gelatin. He felt utterly immobile, a pathetic sight, and he couldn’t help but berate himself for it. Attempting to rise, he faltered and sank back down.
“Give me a sec,” he managed to utter, acutely aware of the crimson flush that was creeping into his cheeks.
Erwin spoke simply. “It’s alright, let me help you.”
Levi surrendered to Erwin’s guidance, allowing himself to be carried, his feet stumbling aimlessly, movements devoid of coordination. Ahead of them loomed a magnificent edifice, not just a house, but a palace. It bore the grandeur of those colossal Victorian estates that only existed in movies. Erwin Smith, what a rich fucking bastard!
As they crossed the threshold into the house, the interior unfolded before them; dark wood and opulent velvet adorned the space, concealing its secrets like the stranger himself. On the walls, gas lamps emitted a vintage, golden radiance.
“So, you’re a vampire, living in this museum of a home, huh, Doc?”
Erwin responded matter-of-factly, “Oh, no. Vampires are nothing more than a myth, Levi. You should know that.”
“Whatever. T’was a joke.”
“I know it was, sugar. But perhaps, not the right one for the occasion,” Erwin looked at him and touched his cheek. “Do you need to rest? Something to eat?”
“No. Let’s get this over with,” he said, not even knowing what this would refer to. This thing is inside me — this violence that I can’t control.
“Very well then,” Erwin responded. “Follow me.”
Levi felt Erwin guiding him into a room, anticipating a bedroom, but beyond the closed door, an unexpected vision met his eyes—a library adorned with books and ancient tapestries hanging from the walls. Levi instinctively recoiled within himself, feeling unclean and pathetic, still carrying the traces of blood. Vulnerability was a foreign sensation for Levi; Kenny had beaten it out of him when he was just a brat.
"Sit, please," Erwin offered, guiding Levi to a magnificent oak desk. "Have you changed your mind about my proposition, Levi? Is that why you’re here?"
Levi nodded tersely. "Sure. Fine. I’ll sign the damn papers. I’ll fight for you and do whatever else you want."
Erwin clucked his tongue and settled on the opposite side of the desk, retrieving the contract from a drawer. Levi’s mind screamed, but he couldn’t quite make out the whispers, and at this point, he didn’t see any use in resisting. It felt inevitable, a choice between this or losing his sanity.
"Did you read the contract?" Erwin asked, extending the papers toward Levi.
"Sure," Levi claimed, though as he flipped through the pages, the words swarmed before his eyes like agitated hornets.
"I strongly encourage you to read it thoroughly. Meticulous with the binding language," Erwin advised.
"I said I read it!" Levi snapped back. "I ain’t some illiterate imbecile!"
Erwin nodded, then offered Levi a quill pen. The thin tip and feather felt uncomfortable in his hand—too elegant, too fancy. Levi had never used a quill to write. He swallowed, struggling against his dry throat.
"Sign right here," Erwin pointed to the line on the paper. "Your name and date."
Levi’s palm tingled as the inner voices recoiled, urging him to flee. “Get out!” they screamed, their warning clear and insistent. The voices weren’t muffled like before, but crystal clear, yelling; run, run, run! But where could Levi run to? Back to his shabby apartment? To the underground ring where he brawled for a crowd that cared only for brutal, deadly fights? He had no escape, no goal, no dream—just a wretched existence of working for a slumlord and beating people senseless.
And despite all his fighting, he was still broke because Lovoff stole from him and nobody else would manage him. With the money from Erwin’s offer, he could buy a modest house on the city’s outskirts—a simple shack. He could cultivate a small garden, maybe even adopt a dog or a cat for company. That’s all he craved. And if he could avoid fighting again, perhaps the gnawing sickness within him would abate, allowing him to lead a life of dignity. So, what did a mere name on a paper matter? He would fight for another man for a bit longer, then perhaps he could quit, leave, and vanish.
He could start anew.
“Do you not trust me?” Erwin asked, as if sensing Levi’s hesitation. “I assure you, I will uphold the contract. What I told you is the truth. I will assist you in taming the beast within.”
Erwin leaned in, his touch grazing Levi’s throat with an almost ethereal gentleness that Levi felt like a feather against his skin. He inhaled sharply, nearly crushing the feather in his hand. Erwin leaned closer and kissed Levi’s ear, his lips as sweet as honey. “Ah,” Levi gasped, his voice betraying him. “Ah, God, damn.”
“That’s it,” Erwin whispered, though Levi couldn’t discern whether his voice was just another in the chorus inside his head. Erwin’s hand traveled lower, slipping beneath Levi’s hoodie, curling around his nipples and tracing the scars and bruises on his body. Finally, it found its way between Levi’s legs, pressing against the aching, yearning spot that craved attention. His fingers delved into Levi once more, causing Levi’s eyes to roll back, his tongue escaping from his mouth. There – here – now, that’s all that mattered, Erwin’s presence around him, embracing him, guiding to the place Levi was always itching for but couldn’t reach. Erwin curled his fingers and pressed upward, igniting a spark of pleasure inside him.
“Don’t you see?” Erwin murmured. “Your body has already made its decision. You know that only I can fulfill your lust —only I can bring you release. Isn’t that right, Sugar?”
“Ngh,” Levi gurgled, his hips rocking involuntarily, again and again as Erwin toyed with his arousal. He needed this – wanted it. A moan turned into a sob, and tears fell down his cheeks.
“I do, trust you,” Levi moaned. “I do – please, oh please, just–”
“Sign the paper, Levi.”
Levi’s fingers quivered as they reached for the quill, trembling as they touched the paper’s surface. The world was an indistinct blur of noise and incongruous images that seemed to mock coherence. Erwin intervened, guiding Levi’s hand along the line. With reluctant compliance, Levi scrawled his name. There, it was done.
Erwin withdrew his fingers, presenting them to Levi’s mouth, commanding him to taste the essence of his arousal lingering on leather gloves. Obedience flowed like a benediction, and Erwin’s whims transformed into blessings. Levi licked, savoring himself on Erwin’s fingers, his petite pink tongue dancing against those long digits. Two fingers entered his mouth, probing as if testing Levi’s resistance, and he yielded willingly. The cacophony of relentless internal chatter fell silent. For the first time since the awakening of his condition, Levi found respite from the hissing, shouting, and tumultuous revolt within his mind.
Yet, the question lingered: Why now?
Forcing focus, Levi sat upright. Erwin holding the contract crystallized in his mind, and all Levi could discern was the contorted smile of triumph stretching impossibly wide across Erwin’s lips. No longer did Levi perceive Erwin as a handsome stranger shrouded in smoke, exuding allure with words flowing like honeyed wine; now, he appeared as something else, something malevolent. Erwin’s eyes were not the serene blue of sky or sea, but an unnatural, painfully bright hue akin to two sapphires emitting their own gleam. His teeth were not merely bright but sharp, peculiarly shaped to cleave through flesh.
“Who are you?” Levi questioned, his voice constricting. Yet, an unspoken question lingered: What are you?
“Mr. Ackerman, I elucidated everything in the contract. Did you not read it?” Erwin’s response carried an unsettling assurance.
Levi pressed his hand against his temple, fear seeping from his fingertips to his heart, a frigid, creeping dread ensnaring him within an icy prison of his own body.
“You spoke to me in my dreams. You were there, watching me—”
“Yes, I was,” Erwin confirmed. “It’s a trait of my kind.”
“Your kind?”
Erwin advanced, placing his knee between Levi’s legs, looming over him like a phantom. “I’ve borne many names throughout my existence. A Fiery serpent, Gancanagh, a night terror... Incubus. But these names are mere human interpretations, fear entwined with folklore,” he murmured.
With deliberate slowness, Erwin removed his gloves, unveiling hands as dark as coal, radiating an eerie glow akin to molten lava. Levi’s instincts ignited; he threw a punch, the impact reverberating through Erwin’s gut, yet the blow mirrored a striking assault on Levi’s own body. Curled in pain, Levi gasped for breath. “What have you done to me?”
“Nothing beyond your written consent,” Erwin replied, caressing Levi’s cheek with his inky hands. “Oh, sugar, that’s why I implored you to read attentively—you willingly signed away your body and soul to me. A demon, a consumer of human sexual energy. You made a contract with the Devil.”
“You’re lying. Those things don’t exist,” Levi muttered. “There’s no such thing as demons and devils, only human greed.”
“And yet, here we stand, a pair of pitiful monsters,” Erwin declared, pressing his lips against Levi’s. “You, harboring that rage and anger growing with every fight, yearning for release from the lust within you. And me, siphoning off all that pent-up arousal and desire from humans. Can’t you see? The two of us, both implausible, both creatures of myth and magic, meeting in the most improbable of circumstances.”
“You tricked me, you – “
“I never did that, Levi,” Erwin asserted, his voice weaving through the air like a smoky incantation. “Now, come. No more need for futile resistance. You’ve signed away your freedom. You belong to me now, Levi—you’re mine until your dying breath. I’ll mold you into my champion, my triumphant little Ackerman. But your name is irrelevant now. Soon, you’ll forget it, that and everything else in your life. All you’ll remember from now on is that you’re mine.”
Erwin fixed him with those radiant eyes, an intense azure penetrating Levi’s skin, intertwining with his veins and mingling with his blood. His mind became an echoing chamber, resonating solely with Erwin’s voice, a serpentine melody that wove through the cracks and scars life etched into his being. The cerulean hue pulled him in, an irresistible force akin to a fly ensnared in a spider’s web. He felt empty, scrubbed clean.
Gradually, fear dissipated, replaced by an odd surge of pulsating pleasure. Not the wrathful, crimson lust that bit like a rabid dog, but a torrential ecstasy, building in a crescendo.
“Yours,” he echoed, his voice no longer entirely his own.
With a grin, Erwin hoisted him up, cradling him like a discarded puppet, his head nestled on the demon’s shoulder. Erwin led him Into a shadowed chamber; a mahogany bed commanding the space, a mirror reflecting their interwoven forms. Erwin tossed him onto the mattress, garments cast aside in a frenzy as wet lips assailed him, Erwin’s tongue tracing every inch of his wet heat. The calculated façade of a mysterious figure unraveled, replaced by an animalistic, ugly hunger. Positioned above him, Erwin’s inhuman eyes bore into him, pressing his weight onto him. It felt like the weight of the world, an ethereal finality grounding him with a force from realms beyond. The beast would tear him apart, and drag him to hell. He was sure of it.
“Now let me feast on you; I’ve been starving,” Erwin proclaimed, a bloodlust coursing through him—jaw tight, muscles taut. Levi surrendered, closing his eyes as the demon unfurled his legs without resistance. The plunge was a spear’s strike, but rather than pain, his head spun, and the whispers in his blood finally hushed. An unprecedented pleasure eclipsed all of his past human lovers. He was so full; of lust, of pleasure, of fear, of anger — of Erwin. So full he could burst. A tear of rebellion trickled down his cheek, swiftly licked away by Erwin’s long serpentine tongue.
“Don’t be afraid,” Erwin reassured, an angelic messenger delivering tidings. “It’s what you were made for, after all. Made for me, my little champion. ”
Erwin started to move, hips rocking, lewd sounds echoing in the dimness. The demon grunted, dark hands caressing Levi’s body. Pleasure crested alongside a limb-wearying heaviness, a lightheaded drain akin to a doctor extracting too much blood. Vision blurred, Erwin above him, touching his soft flesh, vanishing under a foggy veil. A voice echoed in his blood, whispering his name, an enchantment binding him with a Gordian knot.
The only way out is to kill him, he thought, the notion corrosive as acid. No. I could never. He’s my Master; I live to serve him. My flesh is his now. Take me to hell, for all I care.
His vision dimmed, pleasure persisted, limbs numbed, and mind stilled until only Erwin remained in focus. Fear dissipated, uncertainty and twitchiness replaced by darkness and two blue beams. Pleasure intensified as his consciousness unraveled at the seams, ripping him apart and overflowing.
“Levi...” the demon called. “My beautiful Levi. All mine.”
Levi. Who was that?
The name was vaguely familiar but whoever it was, he couldn’t remember. He remained nameless, a puddle of desire, a creature existing only to please his master, a loyal pet. Peaks came in waves, pulsing through him like tides, an endless bloom of unimaginable warmth. He heard himself moan. More—more—more…. even if the pleasure killed him. Didn’t matter. Let the demon suck him of all the energy remaining in his body. Darkness was always his best friend – he was made of shadows.
He began to sink, slipping beyond the veil into the abyss. Where? Who knows - impossible to tell. Yet, he felt at peace.
For the first time, his blood sang with purpose.