When words fail me, kiss the secrets off my lips-[trans!levi x reader]
summary:
"Can you promise me something then?”. “When you do leave. You will not tell a soul.”
Levi kisses you, similarly to how he did the first time. Clumsily and stiff. And then he melts against you.
He doesn't regret kissing you. He refuses to regret it.
He will not regret it once you rip yourself away from him in disgust, fumbling for your things and slamming his door shut. He will not regret it once he has to transfer you to a different squad and after that, he won't regret never speaking to you again.
//or//
Levi's mother had to do whatever she thought was best for his survival underground. He's 34 now and he has been keeping a secret for as long he can remember.
Can he let himself trust someone to keep it? Just this once.
cw: Angst with a Happy Ending, Scissoring, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Virgin Levi
word count: 5.5k
Roughly thirty years ago, Kuchel, an underground prostitute had a child. In the secrecy of her run-down hotel room, she gave birth all alone.
Bringing a child into this world and surrounding it with filth and violence was not something she wished for.
She grieved the life her child could've had, if only she was born somewhere else.
If only this beautiful kid in her bloody arms was blessed enough to be born by someone else, someone who could give this child the life where it would not know hunger, fear, and desperation of the underground city from the moment it opened its eyes.
The child was tiny, awfully malnourished, yet its hands gripped tightly onto her pinky finger as she carried them both to the bathroom. She vowed to sacrifice everything for it the moment its beautiful eyes sparked up at her and its cries of life reached her ears. She promised to love this child, even if its conception came from anything but.
______________
Levi’s earliest memories of his mother consist of gentle touches and soft and shaky lullabies she would sing after a client would leave the hotel, throwing a pathetic amount of cash on the floor for her to gather up on her knees.
Kuchel Ackerman had a daughter. Levi was raised as a boy.
Today, there is only one living person that carries this secret.
It was the first thing Kuchel would have to do in order to protect her kid. Not only to keep it safer while it grew up but for the fear that her daughter would end up following in her footsteps, meeting the same hell she was soon to endure.
It served Levi well in the great scheme of things.
He had to adapt to being alone, putting on a cold facade so that nobody came close enough to uncover what his mother gave her life to keep hidden.
Repulsed by touch due to his upbringing made it easier, the desire to be close to people buried deep under years of cries and screams of horror he had to listen to in his earliest years of life. Some came from his own mother, others from women alike. They were everywhere, no matter what corner of the underground you hid in, someone, somewhere was desperately trying to get prying hands off of them.
______________
Adapting to life in the scouts took years.
Not reacting violently to a friendly pat on the back required hard work on his end. Those who hadn't seen him in his first days outside still think he's a savage when he brushes hands off his shoulders or creates space between himself and cheering groups after an expedition.
There were a handful of moments when the desire to hug someone was almost unbearable, an impulse that made him sick to his stomach and his knees weak.
His friends, comrades, the man who raised him. All of which happened when the life inside their eyes seemed to completely fade and they were too weak or too far gone to hug him back.
‘Living a life with no regrets’ is a drive people with too many of them under their belt choose as a last resort.
A human mind is not strong enough to hold onto all of them and stay sane, so naturally at one point, either you let your regrets pull you down into pits of insanity, or you create a delusion to follow in order to keep the weight on your soul that much lighter.
____________
“‘Vi? Are you alright?” your voice snaps Levi out of his thoughts. The bottom of his teacup comes into view as he regains his focus.
He hums, looking up at you, spread out on his couch, peeking over your book with a concerned look on your face.
It's been roughly a year and a half since Levi fell in love for the first time in his life, at the late age of 33. A year of which he spent trying to crush that feeling any way he possibly could.
You sitting there, freely and unafraid like you own the space he lives in, proves that his efforts were futile.
Seven months ago, after an expedition, Levi hugged you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs, almost landing both of you on the ground. It progressed slowly from there.
Not only was the progress agonizingly slow, but it was also terribly rocky. Screaming matches, cold shoulders, silent treatments, venomous words flying off of both of your tongues before one of you inevitably admits defeat and knocks on the other's door in the middle of the night.
Levi's ego won't let him admit that 80% of the time it was him crawling to you. He felt like he couldn't breathe if he was not on good terms with you. It would eat him out during his naturally sleepless nights until he went mad with the desire to fix it. Bless his soul he never knew how to.
He would often show up at your door, both words and actions failing him the second you let him into your room.
You understood though.
His intentions were always clear as day to you. You often said how you could easily figure out what he was thinking from his eyes alone.
“I'm fine, read your stupid romance junk” his response earned him a huff and a smile. Then there's silence.
Silence compels him to fill the space with words.
It would be much easier if you were to try and force him to talk, then he could quickly get you both on his familiar ground.
Fighting.
You know better by now.
“I'm sorry about this morning” he speaks up, looking back down at his paperwork.
He's met with silence again. He knows that it's not for your lack of forgiveness, you being here is obvious proof of that.
It's you, creating more space for him to talk.
You close your book, sitting up, patiently waiting.
Levi fell in love a year and a half ago.
Levi hugged you for the first time seven months ago.
Levi let you hold his hand for the first time four months ago.
Levi kissed you for the first time a month ago.
Thirty-four years ago, Kuchel Ackerman had a daughter.
Levi is still the only living person to know this.
_____________
The first kiss you shared was terrible. It was still the best thing Levi felt up until that point in his life.
You weren't stupid. He didn't need to tell you that he had no idea what he was doing, it was more than obvious with the way he moved against your mouth, equally clumsy and stiff at the same time. Judging by that, it was also not a secret that he never slept with anyone either.
Kissing you sends shivers down his spine and makes his fingers itch to touch you, mind going fuzzy whenever you deepen the kiss with gentle hands on his cheek or around his neck.
Everything was moving too fast. He dreaded the moment when he would have to confront this.
There were admittedly a few options.
Lie, be truthful, or simply… push you away and cherish what little he had with you in these few months, and then continue loving you from afar.
Levi did neither.
He felt terrible at this point. He was selfish, cruel, and fucking terrified. Because for some reason, when he has you within reach, he can’t stop himself from wanting you. His words contradict his actions, time and time again.
His hands are always eager to hold you, seek out and touch every part that they can grip onto. Especially when the kisses grow hotter, needier, and more bold.
His fingers slip under your shirt, at first only to feel the soft skin of your hips against his rough hands…and then they want more. Desperately.
So how can he explain himself?
After walking out on you for the nth time? Abruptly stopping you from reciprocating and bolting out of the room, leaving you all alone to figure out what you did wrong. Letting him do whatever he wanted also didn't work, because, at some point, he would stop on his own, hands snapping to his sides as if he got burned.
You took the rejections with grace, nodding and smiling at him. “Of course”, “That's alright”, “‘Vi, we don't have to, you know that right?”. You were getting exhausted though.
___________
So this time, when he pulled you into his lap, both of your lips swollen and red from kissing for so long, your hands gripped his the moment you felt them reach around your back and down your long skirt.
“I think that we need to stop doing this.”
Your words startled him, even if your voice was tiny, barely audible. He was stopped dead in his tracks, a gasp leaving his glossy lips as he heaved for air.
“We can just stick to holding hands or something, is that okay?”
He was speechless for a moment, yet your eyes were insisting on a reply, holding his gaze, your legs gripping him tighter to stop him from going away before giving any form of an answer. Frustration was evident on your face, and looking at you like that made him nauseous.
“Okay.” he had to will himself to talk, mumbling it out with great effort.
“Okay” you repeated, a little quieter, standing up on your feet, already on your way to the door.
“Will you come by for tea tonight?” your face softened at his panicked expression, and you knew the question was anything but a simple invitation.
Will you come back?
Is it too far gone?
Did he irredeemably fuck it up?
“Of course ‘Vi, I'll keep you company while you do your paperwork too”
_____________
“And for all the other times…” you nodded, making space on the couch. An invitation.
Levi took it, making his way to you before sitting down again. Usually, he wouldn't be so quick with it.
Today, he needed to ease the ache in his chest.
Fears of you not showing up tonight, the hard grip on his wrists that he can still feel if he thinks about it a little harder. The general tension was suffocating.
“I'm not trying to mess with you either.”
“I know.”
“I've never done it before”
“I know that too”
There's a pause, your hand slowly inching to his.
He selfishly takes it.
“I don't know what I want.”
“I don't really believe that, you always know.”
“You're right.”
You're chewing at your lip, still not looking at him. He might run off if you stare at him too much during a serious conversation.
He hates himself for teaching you that.
“I want to”
“Okay”
“I'm terrified of it”
You hum.
You knew about his mother.
“Not because of what my mother was, I think that's not the main problem anymore”
“Oh…” you nod again, squeezing his hand once in encouragement.
“I can't give you what you need”
“You don't need to give me anything.”
“I want to. I can't.”
He's sweating, his hand turning clammy and slippery in your own.
“You have everything I need though…I'm really trying to understand Lev-”
“I don't.”
“What do you mean…” you're searching through answers in your head.
“Does it not work anymore?” it would be offensive if anyone else said it, but the way you ask is timid, gentle, and already full of understanding.
He shakes his head no.
“Not that”
“Are you concerned about the…size?”
“No!” he doesn't even have one, why does the insinuation that it's small offend him for a moment, he isn't sure.
But.
“What if I was?”
It's close to it, isn't it?
“I mean usually guys think that they-”
“Unusable. What if it's unusable.”
“Can you… not feel good?” bless your heart for always thinking about him before everything.
“I can. What if it was unusable?” he repeats the question, gripping your hand tight in his, his other fisting the cushion of his couch.
“As long as you're willing to touch me in other ways? I already know that you're good with your hands, with practically anything you try. I doubt it would be much different? We could also practice.” your tone is serious, and now you're looking at him, curiously gauging his reaction. Did you say the right thing? He's gonna bolt away any second now.
Levi takes his time to think for a moment. Being delusional, that's what he's doing.
He hums.
“It's not that.”
“Okay” he can sense that you don't believe him now. That's alright. It doesn't change anything.
“You'll run away.”
“I promise I won't!”
“You will.”
“Will not!”
It's futile.
Levi sighs. His heart feels like it's gonna beat out of his chest. Late at night, he would imagine a similar scenario to this. Over and over again.
He would think of ways to drop the conversation. A billion excuses carefully thought through, memorized to perfection.
But it's vastly different in reality.
With you, now propped on your knees on his couch, a hand strongly pulling on his collar to make him look back at you. When did he look away? When did the adoration in your eyes become repulsive enough for him to not be able to bear looking at it? He didn't even notice.
He swallows, throat bobbing as spit and bile struggle to pass the gigantic lump.
His teeth are clenched as well, rubbing uncomfortably against one another. If he doesn't relax his jaw soon, he might even chip them away from how hard they are gritted together.
“Can you promise me something then?”
Selfish.
That's what he always is when it comes to you.
He knows that you would give him anything. Promise him everything if only he demands it.
So he takes it.
Greedily. Pathetically. Miserably.
“When you do leave. You will not tell a soul.” in your head this was too silly. Levi never seemed like he cared for what people talked about behind his back. No matter how awful a rumor would be, he would let people talk. His dick was also a topic of conversation in the scouts more than once. Soldiers need to pass the time somehow.
‘Must be small, he's so short, it would make sense!’
‘Maybe that's where all the height went!!’
If you do leave, he will deal with the heartbreak. What he can't deal with is his secret flowing around at the same time. He simply doesn't know how he would handle both. He actually doesn't know how he would handle the first one either, but he tells himself that he'll manage.
Threatening would also work on anyone but you. You can't threaten someone who doesn't feel a speck of fear towards you.
So he grips at the forced promise.
“Okay ‘Vi. I promise I won't tell a soul. It won't happen though!” your stubbornness parallels his sometimes, and now he relents, finally looking at you.
He pulls you into his lap, like how you were this morning. His hands are shaking, but you're smiling at him, one hand already on his cheek.
‘Living a life with no regrets’ is a drive people with too many of them under their belt choose as a last resort.
Levi's mind is not strong enough to hold onto all of them and stay sane, so naturally at one point, either he lets his regrets pull him down into pits of insanity, or he creates a delusion to follow in order to keep the weight on his soul that much lighter.
Levi kisses you, similarly to how he did the first time. Clumsily and stiff. And then he melts against you.
He doesn't regret kissing you. He refuses to regret it.
He will not regret it once you rip yourself away from him in disgust, fumbling for your things and slamming his door shut.
He will not regret it once he has to transfer you to a different squad and after that, he won't regret never speaking to you again..
As his mind is trying to catch up with everything, your shirt is already off.
He took it off your shoulders himself, hungry for the warm skin of your stomach, your back, and your chest.
He won't regret never having it under his fingertips again. He would regret never doing it when he had the chance.
Your voice is angelic as his lips trail across your shoulders and collar, leaving a sloppy mess in their wake. When your hands grip at the hem of his shirt, he wills his arms to keep still against your hip bones.
You won't notice anything ‘wrong’ there.
It still makes him anxious.
He's flatter than an average man, maybe because of genetics, maybe the piss-poor diet underground, or the lack of sun. Fuck if he knows.
What little could have been noticed would easily be attributed to his workout nowadays.
So he feels your hands on him for the first time.
It’s pleasant. Feeling you grip onto him wherever you can reach as he slips his tongue past your lips. Your cheeks are flushed and warm, eyes closed as you let him lead your kiss.
Despite the nervousness of the impending doom that he's been bracing himself for this whole time, he feels wetness between his legs, soaking through his boxers.
Your long skirt ends up being hiked up and you shyly guide his hands to your thighs.
He watches mesmerized as you find friction on top of his pants, his palms following the gentle sway of your hips.
Maybe if he could get you off like this, he could die a happy man. He'd engrave the image into his brain and replay it for decades probably.
You part for air, gasping and filling your lungs before you press your forehead to his, opening your pretty eyes to look at him again.
“I promised.”
“You did.”
You can feel the anticipation building in your tummy, warm and fuzzy as you readjust on his lap so that you're kneeling with one leg between both of his and the other at his side.
He gives a curt nod, and your fingers easily unbuckle his pants, unbuttoning them and then tugging the zipper down slowly.
He helps you take them to his ankles where he kicks them off the rest of the way.
Levi wants to crawl out of his own skin.
He will regret everything soon enough.
Your fingers slip past the waistband of his underwear, and you ignore the bruising grip on your shoulder. First, you're met with a tuff of thick hair, and then your fingers glide lower. Your lips are inches from his, and you refuse to look down, no matter how curious, you feel like not looking would make him feel a tiny bit more comfortable.
You pass over a tiny bump and Levi's breath hitches as you experimentally fiddle it between your middle and pointer fingers.
An inch or so lower, your digits slip between something warm and slick. Pressing with a little more force, your lips form into a little ‘oh’.
There are plenty of things you want to say, and then a few you want to ask out of pure curiosity. But you have to swallow it down, keep it for later, because Levi's glossy eyes pull at your heart with urgency, begging for a response.
“This is fine.”
“Is it?”
“Mhm.”
“You can leave.”
“I know”
“Are you going to?”
“Not planning to, no.”
Your hand doesn't stop moving, only slows down considerably as you wait for the barrage of questions and possible accusations.
“Is it not gross?”
Was he referring to a pussy in general?
“I've been with women before.”
“I'm not a woman though”
“I know that too.”
“You don't have to lie.”
“I'm not lying.”
“It's weird.”
“I don't think so. Just different.”
“Just different?”
“Yeah.”
He puts a little space between you two, releasing the death grip on your shoulder.
“Don't lie for my sake”
“I'm not lying” you don't mind repeating it.
“I'm serious. I will despise you if you're lying.”
“Good thing I'm not then.”
There's something in him that wants him to fight you more. He wants a different reaction. The one he practiced for, so that he could know what to do.
You keep your distance, but you place your hand closer to him, inches from his own, which is balled up in a tight fist with his nails leaving dull, moon-like crests in his palm.
Minutes drag out, feeling like hours.
When his breath comes out in a shudder, it's a sign that he let himself fall, trusting your words.
You grin when he looks your way again, and he takes your hand in his.
He's pulling you off the couch, stumbling across the room as he drags you behind him. At the door of his bedroom, you feel like you need to kiss him in order to breathe.
Your back ends up pressed to the wooden door then, strong arms picking you up.
Your legs find home around his hips, your arms secured tightly around his neck as he devours your mouth. He pulls your plump lips between his teeth, groaning lowly once your naked chest presses against his.
One of his hands snakes up your side and to the back of your neck, fingers lodging into your hair to keep your head from hitting against the door as you hungrily lick into his mouth.
You fumble for the handle, pushing the door open with your elbow. You feel hot all over, skin burning and shining in sweet sweat that Levi licks off your throat, baring his teeth to the junction of your neck and shoulders to stifle the moans that threaten to surge out when you rack your nails down his back.
He lowers you on the bed slowly, watching as you clumsily get your skirt and underwear off.
He towers over you within seconds, finding a place between your legs that spread out for him eagerly.
He's eating you with his eyes alone, and it sends goosebumps through your spine.
“You're…” his pale skin turns unrecognizably red, and you can see him struggling to come up with any more words.
“Just do whatever, I don't care ‘Vi, just touch me, c'mon…”
He nods, faltering for a moment before he smooths his finger across your heat experimentally. He massages the fat beside your folds with his thumb, the hairs there wet, sticking together due to your arousal.
Being touched by someone feels very much different than it does with your own fingers, you knew that already. But being slowly explored by someone who is desperately trying to learn everything about your body must take the cake.
Levi watches you, every breath you take, and every movement of your hips that buck off the bed. He takes in every gasp and moan rushing past your gorgeous lips as he presses and dips with his fingers.
He spreads your wetness around, coating your clit to make the flicks of his thumb against it smooth. He's not as helpless as he feared he would be, on the contrary, it turns out that it comes relatively easy to excel in something if you already know how to do it to yourself.
And as you mentioned earlier, he does have a way with his hands with everything he picks up. He feels a sense of pride when you start rutting against his hand, hungry for his touch while also being wildly unashamed to show it to him.
“Fuck me, ‘Vi, please for the love of God” you mewl as he takes your hood between two boney fingers, tugging and massaging there.
“Yeah…okay” his voice is raspy, sounding like a purr as he comes close to your face, propping himself on his elbow.
His fingers slowly dip inside you, and he's there to catch your moan as he sinks into you with ease, all the way to his knuckles.
“You're so gorgeous…” he whispers it like it's a secret. You know that saying things like that takes effort from him, not for the lack of meaning behind them.
You see the words at the tip of his tongue often, but hearing them out loud was a rarity.
“You're breathtaking” and now you're being truly spoiled, his fingers rocking into you…slow at first.
“It feels like I'd die without you.”
“Me too”
The confessions hang in the air, and they're deeper than ‘I love you’s’. They express the uncontainable need of two people, drunk on the feeling of each other to the point where they feel like their hearts would simply stop if something ripped them away.
“I'm close, it's embarrassing”
The tempo of his thrusts is now steady, and he watches as you snake your hand between your bodies, touching yourself to his pace.
He holds his breath, mesmerized by your movements. You're everything, and he can't keep his eyes off of you. Your cunt hugging his fingers, leaking into his open palm as you grind your hips to meet him, your fingers flicking at your gorgeous bud with urgency.
All the while, you scramble to moan his name, to beg him not to stop, to plea for him to fuck you just like this until you fucking pass out.
You cum with a loud cry, all over his hand, all over his perfectly made bed and clean sheets, and he already wants you to do it again and you haven't even stopped shaking from the first wave of your orgasm.
Your legs close around his arm, tightly locking him in place where he can only curl his fingers into your soft walls to help you ride out your high.
He stares with wide eyes as you slump back against the mattress, chest heaving, blissed out of your mind. And you don’t hate him. And you didn’t run. And he will never let you go now.
You release his hand soon enough, collecting yourself.
Feeling strength come back to your legs, you prop yourself up, pushing Levi under you with ease only explained by his utter willingness to let you take whatever you want from him.
Sweet surrender. Your hands are back on his skin, lips tickling their way between his chest and to his stomach, kissing your way above the hem of his underwear. He finds the part of his brain that yells at him to be careful, and he crushes it.
You strip him fully bare now, anticipation building up once again.
You want to eat him alive, hooking his leg over your shoulder and biting the inside of his thighs, soaking in his shivers and the frantic rush of his hand to cover his mouth.
Your eyes are purely dark, and you're still smiling at him. In a way that makes Levi’s heart race. Adrenaline courses through him, it feels similar to how it is when he's out on missions, focused, on edge and patiently waiting for the creatures to launch at him at any moment.
Is comparing you to a titan truly what his brain is doing right now?
No…not in that sense. He feels like he's being hunted, looked at like he's just a piece of meat hanging on a stick, being circled around for the sole amusement of the beasts.
You nibble at his skin again, jerking his attention down at you.
“This okay?”
Levi wants to crawl in a hole and die out of embarrassment, your face inches away from his pussy.
He hasn't been this turned on in his life.
“‘Vi?” you lean your cheek on his thigh, nuzzling against it.
“Yes.”
And then you're wrapping your arms around his muscley legs, flatting your tongue against him and swiping in one well swoop before he hears you humming approvingly.
“Must you be so shameless” You nose at his clit, ignoring his comment. He smells divine. The taste that lingers on your tongue compels you to dive in again for more.
At first, it doesn't feel like much, barely there friction that only tickled him ever so often. You take your time with him, peering up occasionally as you proudly swallow him down. Your chin and nose were a mess already.
Once you made sure that every part of him was licked clean, you finally closed your lips over his engorged clit. It laid heavy on your tongue, and as you sucked your cheeks in, Levi found your hands and pulled them over his stomach so that he could hold them to ground himself.
“Fuck…hng. Listen I-” You swirl him inside your mouth, pulling off with a pop so that you can tongue at his slit where fresh arousal seeps into your tastebuds. His eyes roll to the back of his skull and the vibrations of your humms drive him even more insane.
“My Walls, wait a second!” it feels amazing. He hates being greedy like this. He doesn’t want to ruin anything. But he needs to feel you.
He has no idea how. He needs more and closer.
How did he live without your touch before this?
“Come up.”
“Bossy…”
You listen, crawling up to him.
“Need more baby?”
“Shut up.”
“What is it then?”
You’re so mean. You should give mercy for his poor, old man's heart.
“Here…follow what I do.” Ordering him around is an ego boost. Finally, there’s something you’re better at than him(future will show that that won’t last long).
You push one of your legs under his, lifting your other one so that he can position himself. As he’s doing that, you take his other leg and you place it on your shoulder swiftly, hugging it to your chest before you let your full weight press against him.
“This better?” you rock your hips languidly, waiting for his reaction.
“Fuck, okay…yeah…it's. Yeah.” He props himself up on his elbows, angling himself a little better.
You watch mesmerized between your bodies, the slow glides of your drooling folds, the shy bumps of your clits against one another.
It takes a while for the friction to build up, a few minutes until your movements sync up, the up and down motion of your hips timing perfectly with each other.
Levi’s hair is damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, eyelashes fluttering while he struggles to keep his eyes open. He wants to learn, wants to lead the pace next time, make you feel good and spoil you. He needs to remember every little thing about you, what makes you tick, what drives you insane.
He balances on one arm, his other supporting the fluent rolls of your hips with firm pressure on your thigh.
The dim lighting accentuates his build. The pale, jagged scars scattered across his body make him all the more beautiful to look at. They show his strength, endurance, and ferocity…and this same body that has been fighting to survive for most of its life is writhing under you, trusting you to handle it with care.
The hand he holds you with has many small cuts, they're impossible to count, whereas the pads of his fingers are rough, toughened up from holding the blades so often.
When you pay closer attention to his legs, there are strips of skin where hair doesn't grow anymore. You recognize the placement of the gear straps easily. Many soldiers share the same markings, but his are especially attractive.
Is that even a thing that can be considered particularly attractive? Lack of hair in weird places?
Doesn't really matter because apparently, if it’s on Levi, it's sinfully hot.
You shift your attention back to his face. His eyes are dimmed and dark, the blueish hue barely there. His mouth is slacked open, eyebrows slightly furrowed.
You can feel hot blood rushing through your body, tips of your fingers tingly. You hold your breath and you flex the muscles of your stomach, the coil in your gut threatening to snap oh so so soon.
“A little more, please… fuck I'm right there ‘Vi. You with me?”
“Hmhm…yeah. I think so. yeah? Shit.”
He overthinks it for a second.
Will he look weird? Will his face be pleasant to look at? Nobody ever saw him like this, he doubts anyone else ever will. If he could stuff a pillow into his face he would.
“ ‘Vi, gonna make me cum again, holy shit.”
Oh.
That's what matters the most.
You feeling good. Because of him. With him?
“I've got you, yeah, c’mon, cum for me gorgeous…” he blushes at his own words, heisting the pace to help you both get there.
Soon everything goes still, gasps and grunts bouncing off the walls as you both release, one following after the other. Before you squeeze your eyes shut, you latch onto the image of him, captivated and awestruck by his expression.
Your second orgasm is mindnumbing, leaving your brain a mush.
You clutch at his leg and he squeezes yours as you both slow down to a stop. The sheets beneath you are soaked through, slightly uncomfortable as you both scramble and stretch your sore limbs.
You lay onto Levi's chest and he wraps you in his arms, tucking his chin at the top of your head. His heartbeat slowly becomes regular, and your breath evens out.
He feels like he needs to say something. Is he supposed to say anything after?
He decides that he won't ruin the silence, no matter how badly he wants to sabotage the tender moment.
You stroke his side with your thumb, going in tiny circles, and he replies by lightly scratching your back, falling into a steady rhythm.
Thirty-four years ago, Kuchel Ackerman had a daughter.
One more person knows and the world didn't end.
Levi sleeps through the whole night and in the morning, he doesn't run.
Phew, I wrote this in one sitting and even now I have 20 more ideas for this plot. Old man pussy is a prison.
I would just like to clarify that reader isn't 'oblivious' to the existence of trans people by choice. It was mainly because I tried to keep to the canon timeframe, and in like 800's I don't know if such a thing would exist in the first place? It's definitely a very peculiar and specific situation that I had in mind aswell.
All in all, thank you for making it this far! Mwah💕
tip-yar : Ko-Fi 💕
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