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Eren didn’t know what he expected when Commander Erwin summoned him to his office late that first night, but it sure as hell hadn’t been Erwin standing before the window, his arms behind his back and his hips cocked at a suggestive angle.

The door was open, allowing Eren to stand in brief, stunned silence as he drank in the sight of Erwin in a loose white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his pants clinging to the long, muscular lines of his legs. Eren tried to compose himself before knocking on the door, feeling his jaw drop when Erwin turned to face him; his shirt wasn’t fully buttoned, dipping down to the middle of his chest.

Erwin smiled. It sent weird shivers up Eren’s spine. He tried to think of something else. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes,” Erwin said, gesturing for Eren to come in with one hand and touching some papers on his desk with the other. Eren tried not to let himself be distracted by how callused his fingers were. “I think we need to further discuss what your duties in the scouting legion will entail.”

“I—huh?” Eren’s eyes darted from Erwin’s collarbones to his eyes, sky blue and piercing, then to the papers. He moved closer to Erwin—no, no, the desk—and stopped, holding his breath as he caught the residual scent of cigarettes wafting up from the ash tray.

“It won’t do us any good to have you locked up in the basement until our expedition,” Erwin explained patiently, apparently oblivious of how he was being ogled. “Squad Leader Hange has put in several requests to perform some experiments—all with your consent, of course.” He put both hands on the desk and moved the first sheet of paper aside. “I’m sure Levi won’t have a problem with that. He’s more than capable of handling a situation if anything gets out of control.”

Something about that statement rubbed Eren the wrong way. He touched his jaw, thinking back to the tooth Captain Levi knocked out. “I believe that.”

“It was necessary,” Erwin said, something in his expression turning regretful. “He didn’t do that to you without a purpose.”

“It’s fine.” Erwin was looking at Eren now with such sincerity that it felt almost intimate. It was making the shivers from earlier worse. “I understand.”

Erwin went over more papers, explaining other duties Eren would be expected to undertake now that he was a member of the scouting legion. Eren didn’t hear a word of it. He watched Erwin from the corner of his eye, feeling a thrill when he noticed that Erwin’s straw-blond hair was tousled and unkempt, slightly damp from a recent shower. Eren began to panic as he realized he was growing hard, the pants of his uniform already so tight that even his slight arousal would be obvious if Erwin happened to glance down.

He then noticed that it had grown silent. Erwin was looking at him expectantly. Shit. Eren didn’t have the faintest idea what he’d just said, but he nodded and smiled like he understood.

“That’s all, then,” Erwin said, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips. He went back to the window and looked out across the grounds. “I’m sorry for calling you up here so late. I didn’t have any time earlier.”

“It’s fine,” Eren repeated, willing himself not to look at Erwin’s ass and mentally berating himself when he did anyway.

Erwin nodded, more to himself than anything. “You’re dismissed.”

Eren left as fast as he could without seeming rude. Once he was in the hall by himself, he slowed. He didn’t understand what was wrong with him tonight. He knew he was at that age when his hormones were running wild—oh boy did he know—but why was it so hard to concentrate on anything other than the form of Erwin’s body under those pesky clothes?

Levi was sitting in a chair outside of Eren’s cell when Eren arrived at the basement. He said nothing as Eren entered the cell and changed out of his uniform into his sleeping clothes, keeping his back turned so as to hide his not-quite-gone erection.

“Who put a stick up your ass?” he asked out of the blue, causing Eren to freeze.

“I’m sorry?”

“You look like Erwin chewed you out or something.” Levi was sitting in the chair backwards, his arms resting on its back. He cupped his chin with a palm. “I thought he was just going over all the shit you should already know.”

“O-oh, he did. Go over the, uh—the stuff.” Eren pulled his shirt on and sat down on the cot. “I’m just worn out from earlier.”

Levi’s face was impassive as always, so it was difficult for Eren to tell if he believed him or not. He stood and shut the cell door, snuffing out the lanterns as he went down the hall.

- - -

A few nights later, Eren woke up all of a sudden, drenched in sweat. It was quiet in the basement. He knew why he had to stay locked up down here by himself, but it didn’t ease the pang of loneliness he felt. It was oppressively dark, making his cell feel that much bigger and emptier.

He sat up with a groan and peeled off his shirt. This was the third night in a row that he’d woken up feeling hot and sticky and so lonesome that it physically hurt. He didn’t understand why he was so hot—it was cool down here, almost clammy. The first night he’d shivered underneath his thin blanket, wishing for something warmer. Now he was considering sleeping naked if it meant he’d stop waking up in a pool of his own sweat.

Eren pulled off his pants and tossed them aside, then started to slide off his underwear. He stopped, feeling a weird, moist sensation between his legs. That . . . wasn’t sweat. Oh, God. Did I have a wet dream?

He didn’t want to mess up the sheets, but he couldn’t stand the thought of being clothed for even one more second. He let them drop over the side of the cot and kicked his blanket back, the chilly air raising goose bumps on his naked skin. He closed his eyes and lay there, trying to go back to sleep now that he was somewhat comfortable.

That was when he noticed he was hard. He wrapped a hand around his cock and tried to jack off as quickly as he could, groaning when he only felt more frustrated.

This had never happened before. He stopped stroking, breathing in quick, shallow gasps. What if he tried fingering himself? No, he needed lube for that. He’d heard it would hurt otherwise. He was still for a moment, his pulse a dull roar in his head. Fuck it, he thought, snaking the hand that wasn’t around his cock down to his ass. He couldn’t stop the yelp of surprise when he felt dampness at his hole. Oh, God. He was a beta, that couldn’t . . . that wasn’t supposed to happen.

That wasn’t supposed to feel good.

Eren was desperate to get off. Who cared if his ass was secreting whatever that was—it wasn’t like anyone would know if he managed to wash his sheets fast enough. And it wasn’t like this was the weirdest thing that had happened to him lately. With that, he slid a finger in up to the first knuckle, holding his breath at the odd sensation. He tilted his head back and let out a low groan as he pushed his finger in as far as it would go. He began stroking himself again. After a few minutes he had two fingers up his ass. He let out a breathy laugh of relief as he felt his orgasm build.

Coherent thought left him as he stroked harder, his hips arching off the mattress as he tried to fit in a third finger. That was a little more than he could comfortably handle, but it didn’t matter. The tightness sent a jolt of pleasure to his cock. He was almost there . . . almost . . .

A noise down the hall startled him. His first instinct was to dive back under the blanket before whoever it was could see him, but it was pitch black down here. He waited a second before cautiously fingering himself again. The pleasure sent a shiver up his spine and he let out the quietest moan he could manage. Please, please, just go away, I want to come.


He could have screamed. He didn’t respond, hoping that whoever it was—it sounded like Mike—would think he was asleep and go away.

No such luck. He heard footsteps right outside his cell, then the telltale clatter as Mike set about trying to light one of the lanterns.

“No, don’t,” Eren said too quickly. He reached around for the blanket with his foot, pulling it back over him. “I’m having a hard enough time sleeping as it is.”

“You don’t sound like you’re sleeping.”

Mike sounded funny. There was a tone to his voice that Eren didn’t understand. It was kind of . . . hot.

His desire for Mike to go away dissipated at the thought. Eren gasped when he felt a new wave of wetness at his entrance, the somewhat viscous substance pushing around the fingers still in his hole. He jerked his hand away, cringing at the weird squelching sound it made. Shit, his heart was pounding.

“Are you okay?” Mike said. “You smell like you’re . . . you smell kind of strange.”

Strange didn’t begin to cover it. Eren pressed his legs together, wanting to finish jacking himself off but mortified at the thought of doing it with Mike right there. No, not mortified, Eren realized with a mounting feeling of what the hell am I thinking. That sounded kind of exciting.

“Can you . . . come here?” He couldn’t have faked the way his voice trembled if he tried. “I need some help.”

There was a jingle of keys and the creak of the door being unlocked. Mike didn’t fumble around despite being in total darkness; he could probably smell where Eren was.

“What’s wrong?” Mike was at his bedside now. Eren could hear his breathing. “Are you ill?”

“No, I . . . I . . .”

He reached up a hand. It bumped into Mike’s shoulder. Eren moved until he was touching Mike’s cheek.

“You smell weird,” Mike murmured, his voice hoarse. “I noticed it earlier. I thought you might be sick.” Eren could feel his expression change underneath his fingers. “But you’re . . .”

Eren was sweating again. “I’m not sure what’s happening to me . . . I just . . .”

He felt as if he were in a daze, his body moving of its own accord. He was so out of it that he didn’t quite comprehend what happened next. He sat up, clinging to Mike for support, and then heard a low swear before Mike abruptly stepped back, knocking over a chair in his haste to get away. The cell door slammed shut and Mike’s footsteps echoed down the hall.

Eren would vaguely remember it in the morning, when he was awoken by a cool, moist rag to the forehead. He opened his eyes. Petra came into blurry view, looking concerned. She was saying something, asking if Eren was okay. He was burning up. He could feel the dampness between his thighs and was ashamed, glad that the blanket was still covering him.

“You’ve started your heat, Eren,” Petra said in a slow, clear voice. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re an omega? Did you not know?” She grew grimfaced. “Is this your first one?”

“Nnnn,” was all Eren managed to get out. He didn’t just feel warm, he felt . . . tender, hypersensitive Not just between his legs, but in his throat, too. Petra was saying something else, something about how Levi would be here soon, he would be able to help better than she could, she was a beta and didn’t know much about heats.

“Levi” caught his haphazard attention, sending a wave of pain through his body as he reacted to the memory of Levi beating him at the trial. It had been brutal and painful and terrifying, but it had also been a display of dominance and assertion, and right now it was something Eren craved, needed. Most of him yearned for an alpha, the way he’d yearned for Mike last night, but the diminishing rational part of him was scared. He tried to communicate this to Petra and only managed to loll his head to the side, causing the rag to slide down to the pillow.

“I’ll take it from here, Petra.”

That was Levi. All of Eren’s senses focused on him, taking in his scent, the gruffness of his voice. Something was wrong. Levi sounded blunt and unfriendly as always, but Eren picked up subtle signs that his skewed senses informed him were more characteristic of a fellow omega.

That couldn’t be right. And yet Eren didn’t react to Levi the way he had to Mike, or even to Petra; he felt himself calm down, if only a fraction. His eyes drooped shut when Levi took the rag, wrung it out, dipped it in the bowl of water on the small bedside table, and placed it back on Eren’s forehead.

“You’re . . . an omega?” Eren whispered, unable to believe it.

“I should be asking you that,” Levi replied, lip curling in displeasure. The chair scraped against the floor as he brought it closer to Eren’s cot. Eren could see him, leaning forward in the chair, his dark eyes indecipherable. “You look the most surprised about it. I take it this is your first heat?”

Eren couldn’t muster up the strength to say anything else. He nodded as best as he could.

“You’re, what, fifteen? Most omegas have their first heat around twelve or thirteen.” There was a pause. “I had mine when I was eleven. It’s different for everyone.”

Eren cried out as a clenching sensation caused his lower abdomen to seize up. It felt like a cramp only ten times worse. He curled up under the blanket, trying to find a position that would ease the pain, if only a little bit.

“I would give you some heat suppressants, but it’s not good to stop the first one,” Levi went on, replacing the rag again once Eren settled down. "It messes with your growth, from what I've heard."

“Does . . . it always . . .” Eren couldn’t get the rest of it out.

“Hurt? No. The first one was hardest for me, too.” Levi spoke as brusquely as always, but Eren detected a degree of care in his tone. He could somewhat remember the rushed lessons they’d been given in training on the differences among alphas, betas, and omegas, that it was natural for omegas to be protective of one another when one was in heat. It was a little embarrassing, considering that they didn’t know each other that well, but Eren was also relieved that someone was helping him through this.

Levi’s company didn’t stem the pain or the horniness, though. After about an hour of writhing, Eren began to feel, if possible, even worse. More than anything he wanted to resume his ministrations from the night before. More than that he—the hormone-addled part of him, anyway—wanted sex. He touched himself under the blanket, his self-consciousness all but gone. He fingered himself with one hand, stroking his cock with the other. It brought him to a minimally sufficient orgasm; he gasped when he felt himself clamp down around the two fingers in his hole, so tight that it made his hand go numb. His wrist was aching by the time the tightness eased enough for him to pull his hand away.

After he came there was a lull in the burning desire to get off. Levi held his head up for him and helped him drink some water. Eren’s throat was so tight that it was difficult to swallow. Levi wiped up the water that Eren didn’t manage to drink and sat back in his chair. Eren didn’t see how he was going to make it through another moment of this, much less however long his heat ended up lasting.

This explained why he’d been so fixated on Commander Erwin the other night, Eren thought. He remembered those thick, callused fingers and that tantalizing glimpse of his broad, well-muscled chest. He was masturbating again before he realized it, making a keening noise he would have been embarrassed by had he been in his right mind. He gasped out Erwin’s name as his orgasm shuddered through his body, going limp when it subsided. He turned his head away from Levi, too embarrassed to look at him.

“Erwin told me you were acting strange the other night,” Levi said. He didn’t seem to think anything of the fact that Eren had just jacked off while thinking about their commanding officer. “I’m surprised he didn’t smell the heat on you. I guess it was too early.”

“Don’t tell him, please,” Eren pleaded. “It’s . . . I'm—”

“You’re fine,” Levi said impatiently. “As long as it stays in your head.”

Eren’s mind was still clouded, but he thought he detected just a touch of possessiveness in Levi's tone. He wondered what that could mean.

As the hours passed Eren desperately wondered what he was going to do. He’d over stimulated himself so much that it hurt to masturbate, but he did it anyway. It was the only way he knew how to cope with the sweat and the warmth and the unbearable way he couldn’t stop calling out for Erwin or Mike or anyone to come to him. It made his throat even sorer until all he could do was whine pathetically. Tears were burning at the corners of his eyes when Levi placed a hand on his forehead and shushed him.

“You need to calm down,” he said.

“I can’t,” Eren choked out just before a cloud of steam sent Levi and his chair flying one way and the blanket the other. The bars of the cell rattled from the force of his transformation. When the smoke cleared Eren was hanging off the cot, half of his face and one of his arms embedded in a lump of flesh and bone.

Squad Leader Hange materialized at the cell door out of thin air, calling for Levi to let her in. Levi ignored her, crouching down beside Eren and checking him over for injuries. He smoothed his hair back in place and straightened up his cravat, but not before Eren glimpsed a faded bite mark on his neck where his scent gland would swell during heat.

“You over there, stop making so much racket,” Levi said, leering at Hange where she was peering in at them through the bars.

“Don’t cut Eren out just yet, Levi. I want to ask him how he feels his heat has affected his transformative abilities and if he’s more—”

“He’s in the middle of his first fucking heat and you want to use him for an experiment?” There was a soft snarl evident under Levi’s icy tone. “Go get me a blade. And you, Eren,” he went on after Hange left, “you—”

“I’m sorry,” Eren said miserably. “I don’t know what to do.”

Levi shut his eyes and opened them after a few minutes of deep breathing. When Hange returned with a blade he held it close to the edge and carefully cut Eren out, hoisting him back up on the bed as the half-formed mass of titan dissolved.

“Move,” he said, not even waiting until Eren was finished scooting over to one side before sitting down and pulling Eren down so his head was resting on his chest. Eren didn’t know what this was supposed to accomplish, but once he settled down and noticed the steady thud of Levi’s pulse and the calm, measured rise and fall of his breath, he understood.

“Captain . . .” he mumbled as the heat clouded his thoughts and he felt the pressure in his throat increase again.


“You’d make a good father.”

“Don’t make me regret this, Eren.”

- - -

About a week after Eren joined the scouting legion, Erwin had just tidied up his desk when Levi appeared in the doorway, smelling as if he were in the middle of his heat. Erwin was confused for just a moment before his body reacted to the scent. He swept the stack of papers on his desk to the floor.

“That’s not my scent,” Levi said, allowing himself to be pushed down onto the desk when he came close and feeling annoyed that Erwin didn’t seem to notice—or care about—the difference. “It’s Eren’s. He’s—are you listening to me?”

Erwin paused, one hand halfway up Levi’s shirt and the other at his belt buckle. Now that Levi mentioned it he did realize it wasn’t his scent. Levi’s heat scent could be described as a low, smoldering fire. Right now he smelled like a powerful, all-consuming blaze.

“Sorry,” Erwin said, though he didn’t remove his hands or let Levi up. “I was . . . overwhelmed.”

Levi rested his cheek against the surface of the desk and looked up at him with his ever-present frown. “He’s sleeping now. His heat is finally over.”

Erwin said nothing, being far more interested in getting him undressed. Levi knew coming to Erwin’s office without showering first would stir Erwin up, but he was peeved to see it was eliciting a stronger response than he’d anticipated. He wasn’t peeved enough to stop Erwin when he ground himself against Levi’s backside, allowing him to feel his cock.

Erwin was as rough as he tended to be when Levi was actually in heat, which Levi soon decided he didn’t like when he wasn’t overcome with hormones telling him how divinely pleasurable being held down and rammed into the desk was. Deciding he’d had enough, he pushed Erwin into his chair and situated himself on top of him, taking control of the situation and lowering himself down on Erwin’s cock at his own leisure.

When Erwin’s knot began to swell Levi figured there was no harm in letting it, but once he and Erwin were tied for the next half hour Levi decided he didn’t like that, either.

“This was a terrible idea,” he panted into Erwin’s chest.

Erwin leaned back in his chair, bringing Levi with him. After some light afterglow kissing he seemed to come to his senses. Levi peered up at him through his bangs and saw he looked troubled.

“What, am I too tight?”

“No. I was wondering how ethical it is to let myself be, ah, distracted by the scent of one of the recruits.” Erwin looked as if the thought seriously bothered him. Levi wondered what he’d do if he told him what Eren had been thinking about earlier. But no, he’d promised to keep that a secret.

When he went to take Eren food later, he no longer looked or smelled like he was in pain. Levi reminded him not to eat or drink too fast and sat down in the chair while Eren ate and drank too fast anyway. He heard a spluttering sound and was on his feet immediately, afraid that Eren was choking.

Eren was laughing. He set down his half-empty bowl and hid his mouth. “Sorry.”

“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack.” Levi threw himself back down into his chair. “What’s so funny?”

“That new mark on your neck,” Eren said, wiping his mouth. “Is that from Commander Erwin? You said before you left that you were going to go see him.”

Levi’s hand was at his naked throat in an instant. His fingers brushed the sore spot where Erwin had bitten him on the scent gland earlier. Fuck. He’d forgotten his cravat.

“C-captain . . . ?”

“Shut up and eat.”