Categories > Anime/Manga > Attack on Titan


by CaptainRiren 0 reviews

If Eren said it was all right, then it must be so.

Category: Attack on Titan - Rating: R - Genres: Horror,Romance - Warnings: [V] [?] - Published: 2018-07-08 - 958 words - Complete

Nobody ever told him blood was warm. Nobody ever talked about how smooth it would feel between his fingers, like liquid silk. It would become sticky, with time - he could already feel the air caking the red to his arms around the edges - but he enjoyed it while it lasted, idly wiggling his fingers.

He'd always wanted to know what blood felt like on skin, among other things. How it felt to break someone else's bones and what an eyeball felt like under your thumb, to name a couple. He'd always been intrigued by the grotesque things one could do to the human body. Where it stemmed from, he had no clue; before the shit exes there were childhood bullies, before bullies there were siblings. The urge came up often when a significant other of his was suffering, the need to hurt, to kill. They'd cry to him, threaten thin air, punch walls. He wanted to help. He wanted to hurt. He could do both.

As it turned out, most people didn't take it very well when their boyfriend expressed that he was perfectly willing to cut their ex's throat like a pig at a slaughter house - especially when phrased like that.

And then there was Eren.

Eren was gorgeous, god, he was beautiful. Eren was perfection. Eren's delicate jade eyes paralyzed him, his sweet voice made his heart race, those slender fingers on his skin gave him chills. Eren brought him peace. Eren brought him love. Eren soothed the violent rage in his heart, allowing him to discover a side of himself he'd never met through the anger - a side that was caring, protective, and loving.

Eren was a saint, but even the most wonderful people fight their own demons. On the day he finally confessed them to Levi, all his progress diminished in a heartbeat. That stubborn itch returned - or was it always there, faint in the back of his mind? It tainted his heart, and a violent possessiveness overcame him, urging him to protect his Eren, to get vengeance.

And Eren encouraged it.

Eren cooed in that honey voice of his, a singsong little suggestion, temptation swirling its sweet path around the words, around Levi's head. Of course he could exact revenge. Why not? He simply wanted to keep his lover safe, to prevent those people from ever hurting him again. There was no shame in that.

Not everyone would feel that way, Eren tacked on, but he didn't sound concerned, so Levi wasn't, either. Wasn't concerned by what others would think. Wasn't concerned about the consequences of his actions. Wasn't concerned by how much he was overreacting. Eren said it wasn't an overreaction to kill, and that was enough for Levi.

It was Eren's hands that slid over his shoulders and Eren's thumbs that pressed into the tense muscles of his neck. He would know them anywhere. Those fingers worked at his stress, so delicate, so firm, so talented that he forgot about his worries before they even struck. His eyes slid shut without his permission, but he didn't much care.

"I'm proud of you," was the sweet whisper in his ear, and the warmth that blossomed in Levi's chest made everything he'd done, every atrocity he'd committed, every life he'd taken completely worth it.

A soft kiss to his neck sent the loveliest of shivers down his spine, and he turned his head to claim those pretty lips with his own. He was eager and a little forceful, claiming his rightful reward, begging for praise. He had done something horrible - something wonderful - all of it for Eren. He wanted to hear that lovely voice again, rewarding him, admiring the work this absolute monster had done.

Yet he was weak; all it took were fingers yanking through his hair and pulling hard for him to whimper, and a hand closed around his throat, just tight enough to make his breath hitch and give him pause.

"We aren't done," Eren reminded him in a voice laced with both honey and poison, and it made Levi's knees jelly. The hand on his throat tightened ever so slowly and sent a rush of heat through Levi's entire body.

He was weak, so weak. A monster, but Eren had him collared. The restricted blood flow to his head reminded him of that fact, svelte fingers digging into old bruises made by a hungry, demanding mouth with soft lips and harsh teeth. A collar of bruises, a collar of bites, a collar of pleasure and pain and a hand around his throat and of sweet, sweet praise, and it was everything Levi could ever want, more than he deserved.

Another whimper, a plea, and Eren smiled sweetly. His grip slackened, and trimmed nails scratched lightly at his scalp. Levi leaned pathetically into the touch. His hands cupped Eren's face, smearing blood over his cheeks, a bloody thumb tracing his lower lip. The brunet lapped at the digit, not minding the blood - perhaps even enjoying it. Levi nearly whined as Eren sucked on his thumb only to let it pop out a moment later.

"Clean up," Eren ordered softly, and Levi was so quick to make it to the body, unidentifiable at this point. He hauled it over his shoulder in a fireman hold, and Eren's smile was so soft, so proud, that he couldn't help smiling back.

Eren began to walk away, and Levi followed like a puppy at his heels. As soft as Eren was, as perfect, as beautiful, an abomination like Levi was still weak to him. And for as monstrous, as vile, as powerful and unrestrained as Levi was, Eren was in total control.

And Levi loved it.
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