Erwin has stretch marks because he grew so quickly when he hit puberty. They’re white and faded by now, along the inside of his thighs, his hips and all over his ass. When Levi finds them, his eyes go wide and he asks if those are scars. Erwin explains quietly, not sure how Levi will react.
Levi traces his fingers along them, doesn’t speak for some time. Then he leans in to kiss all of them, every single one, and says:
“They look like little shooting stars. I like them.”

December 24th

“Kneel.”

Erwin obeys. His strong body falls like a mountain before Levi, both knees hitting the ground with a soft thump on the pillow, eyes cast downward to the floor. Levi runs his finger along Erwin’s spine, nail leaving a red scratch mark. Erwin groans like a chained beast, his back bucking up, wild shudders shaking him all throughout his being. Levi smiles.

“There’s my good boy. Open your mouth.”

Erwin obeys, again, and when Levi grabs his collar and tilts Erwin’s head back, his lips are parted and tongue sticking out, desperate moans spilling from his bobbing throat where he’s swallowing, hard. Wanting, desiring his man. Then Levi’s slinging one leg around his neck. Erwin instinctively holds it in place, fingers reverently dancing to his Dom’s ankle, wrapping around it like it’s precious silver.

“Give it to me, nice and slow.” Levi’s voice is quiet thunder.

Erwin closes his eyes and nods, whispering “yes Sir” with a wide smile on his lips before his mouth opens and he licks fire between Levi’s legs, pushes inside, feels him tight and hot and twitching on his tongue, and hears his Dom moan when the grip on his collar tightens and Levi rocks his ass right into his wet greedy mouth.

“Good – ah, fuck. Shit, just like that, you’re so g-good…”

Levi’s voice breaks, and Erwin feels his cock pulse, heavy and swollen between his legs. He’s not allowed to touch, doesn’t even want to. Not when Levi’s ass tightens around his tongue, presses down, how that leg around his neck goes heavy and suddenly Erwin’s holding his Dom upright, hears him groan and feels fingers rip at his hair, his collar with the silver ring on it.

Erwin loves how Levi pulls back just before he comes, and he’s closing his eyes and leaning in when warm, milky cum drips over his face and into his open mouth. Levi’s still panting. His leg slides off Erwin’s neck, both feet firmly on the ground again. Erwin swallows. Everything. His cock’s still hard but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care until he hears Levi sink down and kiss his dirty mouth.

“Thank you,” Levi whispers as their foreheads touch, and the collar slides off Erwin’s neck when Levi opens the lock. Erwin opens his eyes, notices Levi’s watching him, unspoken question in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“I’m the one who has to thank you,” is all Erwin says before he wraps himself around Levi, curls in his lap and feels Levi card fingers through his hair. He smiles when kisses are being pressed to his head, and thumbs trace where his collar was moments ago.

“You were perfect,” Levi whispers. “My good boy.” Erwin makes a dark noise at the nickname and then closes his eyes, trusting Levi to take care of him.

He always does.

Levi doesn’t love anyone.
The feeling is foreign to him, heavy and silver like the blade Erwin gave him the day he decided to follow his new commander into a world that wasn’t less dirty and bloody than his old.
Levi doesn’t love anyone, neither himself nor humanity, and not even freedom. He craves it like air, needs it so much that he sometimes claws at his own body because the desire is so deep – but he doesn’t love it.

Levi doesn’t love Erwin.
But if Erwin told Levi to throw his head back and to let his vulnerable, thin throat rest in his Commander’s hands – if Erwin whispered “trust me” and set a knife against his beating heart – if Erwin wrapped control around him like a dark coat, pulsing in his veins and sending him to soar over beasts and slay them –
Levi would obey, and he’d do so with a kiss and a “yes, Erwin”.

December 22nd

It’s a clichée. Everyone says “it happened so fast” when someone asks them later if they didn’t see that car coming. Erwin has to admit that he’d have to reply with the same words but for another reason. That reason is four years old, called Eren and currently crying his heart out in Erwin’s arms. The ambulance’s siren is howling somewhere above their heads, and together with the paramedic’s hectic voices buzzing around him, Erwin’s headache gets worse by the second. Eren is clinging to him, whispering “D-daddy pwease don’ die”, and Erwin tries to kiss his head and say it’ll be alright. He wouldn’t die, they told him – he’d been lucky. Few broken bones when the slowly approaching car had hit him on the crosswalk. The driver had been searching for the burger he’d dropped under his seat, and when spotting the father and his son, he hit the brake. Just in time.

Erwin is lucky. His reflexes had made him curl around his son – don’t lose him, not like you lost his mother years ago, no you can’t – and everything is as fine as it could be in such a moment. The world is a blur when he’s heaved out of the ambulance and rolled into an emergency room. Someone removes Eren from his body, the boy screams louder and a friendly female voice hushes him.

Then there’s a face above him, pale and small. Dark hair frames it like a storm cloud and Erwin finds himself grinning. What a goddamn beautiful man. Oh, did he say that out loud? The face smirks and Erwin hears his own voice say “you are cute” somewhere in the distance. A laugh, smooth and silky.

“The anaesthetics are kicking in. Sir, we’ll have to do surgery on your arm. You’ll be asleep soon.” The voice speaking is low, sharp and gorgeous like liquid silver. Erwin likes it. He tries to touch the young face, mumbles something like “doctors as cute as you should be illegal”. A short laughter trickles down, and Erwin smiles like a dumbass when his world fades.

“Is that so,” the voice says and then, “maybe you’ll arrest me when you’re awake again, then.” Someone calls “Daddy” again, and Erwin sinks into unconsciousness with the picture of a nametag that says “Dr. Levi Ackerman” swirling in his mind, along with a warm voice and soft fingers grazing his arm.

December 21st

A snowflake lands on his nose, melts on the tip and drips off his face along with tears. Levi waits. His hands are stiff and rigid. He presses them deeper into the shallow warmth of his winter uniform, tries to sneak away from the cold of winter howling around his body. The carriage is late, but they bring Erwin, and that’s all that counts. It’s not Christmas yet. But Levi doesn’t celebrate some religious shit. Instead, he suddenly looks up when the snow scrunches, and then he’s running, feet making dull noises on the white inner yard of the Survey Corps’ training grounds.
Erwin gets out with slow, unbroken elegance. His right sleeve flutters in the harsh howls of the wind, empty and thinned out. He’s hollow, body drained of all energy, but Levi flies into his arms and wraps himself around Erwin. “You,” he says, breathes into his collarbone, has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss his chin. Erwin’s arm holds him, strong as always.
“Welcome home,” Levi says.
“I missed you,” Erwin returns solemnly, as if he’s giving an oath to never leave again.

December 14th.

He forgot his jacket at home, and when Levi leaves university a few hours later, it’s snowing. Two weeks til Christmas, gold and red everywhere, people in fluffy hats and warm coats. He’s the first to get out of the classroom, anything to get away from those Christmas-addicts talking about presents and family. The ground is covered in soft white flakes, his steps scrunch when he’s making his way home. He regrets not skipping that stupid class. He could be in front of his heater, a nice mug of black tea in his hands, watching Little Shop of Horrors. Levi’s mood is sinking with every minute outside, and shoving his fingers into his jeans’ pockets doesn’t help. The tips are slowly getting blue and Levi stops to blow on them, hoping that his breath isn’t as cold – well, fuck.

Suddenly the wind stops and a warm weight falls on his shoulders. Levi looks up to find a tall man smiling down at him, and fuck he’s handsome and has gorgeous blue eyes, and that jacket has to be his because he’s only in an ugly red and white Christmas sweater now. Levi recognises him – he’s going to the same class. The man grins wider. “Hi,” he says, and that’s when Levi sneezes, and the next second, that guy wraps the jacket all around him and asks “how about I treat you to a tea to warm you up?”

Levi doesn’t know what that guy’s up to. But the stranger says his name is Erwin, and that’s a nice name, warm and fluffy like the jacket. Levi loves tea, and free tea is even better. “Okay… Erwin.”

December 12th.

Erwin Smith doesn’t do things with half his heart. Levi finds out when his face is pressed into the stinking mud of the underground, when he first hears a name that sounds like power and tastes dark and rich like alcohol. Erwin doesn’t force him to join – there’s no need to pressure someone who’s following willingly. Levi will always obey, after Erwin proves that he’s worthy of obeying. And years later, Levi is naked and vulnerable for him, sprawled on the bed, spread open and crying out a stuttered symphony of Erwin’s name while the commander pours all his heart into licking, sucking, coaxing him open on fingers and a burning wicked tongue.

Levi falling asleep in Erwin’s lap while the commander is reading and working. Erwin not daring to wake him up because he’s all curled up and tiny and sucking in Erwin’s body heat. Erwin falling asleep in the most uncomfortable position ever but it’s alright. He’s rewarded with kisses and a less grumpy corporal next morning.

Erwin cannot afford to give in. Not when his arm is ripped off and torn into a bloody mess of scattering flesh. Not when the military police beat and slash into him and never stop. Nothing in this world can be allowed to see through his cracks, nothing can find the slowly dying glow of a little boy with big wishes in it. But Levi does. For him, Erwin falls and lets those warm fingers and whispering lips hold his fading light, if only just for a moment.

December 7th.

His name is Levi, and Erwin finds him like a gem hidden in the underground’s dirt. He’s wearing a knife like a trophy, eyes silver and the only bright thing down here, and Erwin thinks that someone so lethal shouldn’t be allowed to be that beautiful. His name tastes like silk and thick, warm honey on Erwin’s tongue. He’s never seen stars, and when Erwin takes him up, up on the surface and to the death of his comrades, Levi’s blade slits a thin scar into his throat. He’s keeping the blood-stained shirt forever – as a reminder.

It’s a week before Levi speaks again after Isabel and Farlan are gone, and it’s Erwin’s name that he says – quiet, almost shy, with his knife tucked away but eyes as bright as stars, and Erwin can’t help but lean down and lift him up to kiss him until Levi’s light is burning him to ashes and dust.