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Sweet Tea

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Control is ingrained in his DNA, in the delicate double helix of nitrogens and carbons and oxygens and other elements that Erwin cannot even begin to attempt to name. 

It’s ingrained in societal expectations, in the way women stutter, flush rosy when he looks at them. Shooting glances from under his hood as he rides back into town, finding himself suffocating at the asphyxiating smallness of royalty ensconced so neat and pretty, painted eggshells, behind the confines of Wall Sina. His eyes drifting, restless, over the pastels of their dresses at dinners he’s required to attend, never lingering for long. 

But he can feel the way their eyes linger on him, sticky saccharine sweet, and he sips his wine nervously, rolling the sour taste around in his mouth and trying to pick out an elusive form, slender in white, that has already probably long slipped away into the shadows. 

It’s ingrained in the way the rest of the corps look up to him, seeing a god, seeing their future, seeing a commander in control, an officer who has bested fate time and time again.

Well, Erwin Smith thinks wryly to himself, the rest of the corps, but one. 

Levi looks at him now, looks down at him as he pins Erwin to the mattress one crisp fall evening. Levi Ackerman, heart of his heart, looks at him and sees a man, just as terrified and achingly mortal as any of them. 

He relishes it, Levi’s refreshing equality, cool and quenching like black tea chilled with mint and rock sugar, because everything and everyone else has always expected him to be on top of affairs. He adores it, this relinquishment of control to someone else. Levi takes the reins in steady hand, holding tight, secure, ready to give and equally as ready to take.

Erwin Smith would be lying to himself if he were to say, now, that he wasn’t scared, as Levi slicks his cock with oil, presses Erwin’s thighs apart. 

“You okay?” Levi’s voice is low, soft, understanding, and Erwin knows that without a doubt, Levi would stop here if Erwin asked. 

He takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and nods. When Levi presses in, the burn and stretch just this side of pleasurable, Erwin feels complete, feels right in the best sense of the word, and he realizes, between Levi’s low murmurs of approval, that he’s finally found his destiny, every helix of every fiber of his being ingrained with Levi’s name.

Levi kisses him, nibbles at the side of his jaw, hands still pressed firm against Erwin's inner thighs, holding him apart, and Erwin lets himself be taken apart, dissected and reassembled fraction by fraction. He trusts, nearly laughs at the choked sound that comes pouring out of his throat when Levi presses in at a particularly delicious angle. Surely that sound can't be coming from him, can it? he wonders to himself, but the giddy, triumphant look on Levi only serves to confirm it. 

"Does it hurt?" Levi asks, slight concern wrinkling across his forehead when the choked sounds refuse to abate. "Do you need me to stop?" 

"No," Erwin whispers, tugging Levi close for a kiss that has their mouths fitted awkwardly until Levi tilts his head a bit for a seamless fit. He tastes of rock sugar, warm and comforting and like the color amber, tastes like mint, clean and pure. "Don't stop." 

"Okay," Levi whispers, his thrusts smooth and steady, his hand wrapping around Erwin's cock to stroke rhythmic and delightful. His thrusts stutter for a moment as Erwin pulses, involuntarily, around him, and he laughs, strained. "Shit, Erwin," and there it is, undercurrent bitter black tea, but Erwin savors it anyway, because it serves to enforce the fact that Levi isn't pastel proud eggshell, that Levi isn't a god, not by any sense of the word. 

Levi's thrusts are quicker now, his hand pulling up rough and delicious, and Erwin almost regrets the curl of heat in the pit of his belly, almost regrets it because this is the first time, there will never be another first time, and it seems to be quickening to an end all too soon. 

He gasps, biting down on his lip as Levi grinds into him, an inferno, satisfying beyond measure, his wrist flicking, thumb stroking lightly over the tip of Erwin's cock, smearing pearly liquid over heated skin. 

"You can come, you know," Levi says, a laugh and a moan in his voice, and his very tone has Erwin at the precipice already. 

It only takes another few strokes, another few thrusts, to push him over with a half-choked sob, spilling silver across Levi's palm. Levi mutters something incomprehensible, hisses through his teeth as he jolts, frantic now, rhythm lost, his hips stuttering to completion. 

He flops down beside Erwin a few moments later, breathing heavy, ear pressed against the slowly steadying staccato of Erwin's heartbeat as he comes down. 

"Was it good for you?" he asks, the instant he's caught his breath, and Erwin smiles, stroking hands through damp strands of inky hair. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" 

"It was fantastic," Erwin admits, and he can feel Levi's smile in the kiss he gives him, sweet and pure.