Hi all! So this is a fun little fic I wrote thanks to an errant line of conversation with MercedesCarello that probably went in a direction she didn't expect it to. :)
I have to say, I enjoyed writing this.
I hope you do too!
Lolita: a precociously seductive girl
Erwin (takes place a day or two after the fight with Annie in Stohess district)
There were perks to being on the interior of Wall Sheena. The nobles had a taste for the finer things in life; while there was often a pretty penny to be spent on such frivolities, sometimes it was worth more than half of his wages. Even in the beautiful, pristine interior, there were dark places to be found hidden behind secret doors or passwords.
Aspen Street. Following along the perfect sidewalk kept clean by dutiful little servants, he made his way to the exact center of the road. To his left was an elegant tea shop where women in flowing dresses and large hats sipped on steaming mugs of tea-flavored water (which was cheaper than real tea, but far worse), ate tiny biscuits, and gossiped loudly. Two recognized him and tried to wave him over, but he pretended he hadn't seen them. A reprimand would come later, he was sure, for he'd probably just offended some artisan's wife.
Rather than linger any longer, he darted over to the tobacco shop. Cigarettes weren't a luxury, per se, but the finer tobaccos and wrappings were. A small bell jingled over the door as he entered, and the scent of strong mint and tobacco assaulted him. His eyes adjusted rapidly to the dim store that lacked windows and had only a handful of dim gas lamps. A stubby and withered old man waved to him from a stool behind a long counter. His hunch must have grown twice its size since the last time Erwin had made the trip here.
"How are ye today, Commander?" The tiny ancient's lilting accent was intriguing, but he'd already wasted time contemplating its source during years long gone. He had little time to spare for conversation.
"Well, sir," he answered quickly. The owner of the fine tobacco establishment gave Erwin a knowing smile and winked one wrinkled eye. "I take it you've restocked recently?" The game had officially begun.
The little old man bobbed his head several times, the hump growing each time he lowered it. "Go on down, dear boy!" Erwin nodded as his thanks and slipped through the narrow aisles. The door in the back of the shop, partially hidden behind a wooden humidity-controlled case, was his destination. It was plain and unmarked, nearly blending in with the panels of wood that lined the walls. He pushed it open and slipped through the small space. It was only once he was on the third stair that he was able to shut the door behind himself. Reaching into his pocket, he slipped the folded black leather mask from his pocket and secured it around his face. With the first part, the easiest part, of the game over, he took a deep breath to prepare for the rest.
The staircase was so dark, he felt nearly blind. One hand groped for the handrail before he continued on. He knew these narrow stairs were steep and could be treacherous. He'd fallen down them one drunken night many years ago. Explaining away the bruises to his commanding officer at the time hadn't been a pleasant experience, and he did not desire to repeat it- no matter how the circumstances had changed. Each step he took seemed deeper than the last, forcing him to move slowly. By small degrees, the area around him began to lighten. He could make out the words scratched into or drawn on the walls.
Names, dates, places, random words or strange symbols- each mark had its own meaning. The single feather he'd added himself the first time he'd come was now partially written over by the word "doll". On hand reached up to stroke the tiny silver feather pin on his lapel. Everyone had their own token of passage, and each was unique. This made it difficult to identify others in public. Was that a symbol for entrance, or was that just a nice brooch? He thought of the word "doll" for just a split second before opening the next door. What sort of symbol did one wear to match that word?
He was assaulted once again by smells, but this time it was composed overpowering perfumes mixed with thick, acrid smoke and a hint of sex. He pushed through it, breathing deeply. A large fireplace in the center of the room was the main source of light. Candles and torches strategically placed throughout the rest of the large, wide room kept most of the corners in shadow. Eyes of varying shades of dark black and fiery orange peered out at him from in the crowd. He knew the pair he sought- he just had to find her.
Brushing through the crowds of writhing bodies that moved with the soft sound of strange instruments lost to the rest of humanity, he made his way to the back wall. Two candles sat at either end of the makeshift bar where one of the only true employees stood, mask-less. The boy's round face was full of youth and there was a glint in his eyes that spoke of passions considered taboo. He took the small brown canvas sack from the inside pocket of his black dinner jacket and let it settle into the young man's waiting palm.
"Take your pick." The sultry voice brought a barely-controlled, tight-lipped smile to his face. "Good evening."
"Where is she, Miranda?" he asked, not bothering to face her. She pressed herself to his back, draping one arm over his shoulder to caress his chest. She pressed her cheek to his neck; wisps of her hair tickled his cheek. He could smell the opium in her hair, on her breath, in her clothes. The sickly sweet aroma turned his stomach, but he did not pull away.
"Why don't you ever want to play with the big girls?" Miranda teased in an almost sing-song tone. The glass in her other hand found its way to the counter. In a single fluid movement that he wasn't altogether sure how she managed in her present condition, she stepped around to his left side, the arm over his shoulder sliding with her and reaching up to his neck with the other hand found his cheek. Her sharp nails scratched lightly over his skin, causing chill bumps to rise over his arms. She pulled him down a few inches to her level, her mouth hovering just in front of his; her lips almost grazing his as she continued, "You know I don't like to be called that. Where are your manners?"
With a defeated sigh, Erwin rolled his eyes just slightly. "Where is she, Mistress?" Miranda gave a delighted little giggle and released him. He straightened and peered down at her. Each time he'd come, she had on a new sort of exotic outfit. This time, she appeared to be dressed in some sort of dark silk robe decorated with large, strange flowers. While tied, it didn't serve to cover her very well. One of her breasts was nearly falling out, and her bare right hip was visible. She tapped his nose with one finger, then pointed. He followed the finger to the dark corner that lay on the opposite wall from the little bar they currently stood at.
The next stage of the game was about to begin. He spared one quick glance at the boy. Miranda snapped her fingers and he instantly produced two cups. Her nails clacked against the clear glass as she held his up for him. He accepted it, gave the woman before him a silent toast, and then downed the thick liquid in a few swift gulps. He passed the glass over the bar back to the boy who continued to eye him with a look that sent a chill down the back of Erwin's spine. He turned away from the young man and the raven-haired beauty.
"Don't break my little doll!" Miranda called after him, employing the same sing-song tone. Ignoring the jibe, he breezed through the crowd. Whatever the drink was, it was strong. Already he felt less tense, his shoulders no longer pulling back into the well-trained perfect posture he had grown accustomed to. Every few steps, a heel would scrape against the floor and he'd remember that he wasn't marching. The wool dinner jacket grew hot and uncomfortable, but he didn't remove it just yet. He almost reached up to adjust the bolero that usually sat around his neck, but he remembered as his hand twitched up that it had been left behind with the rest of his uniform.
The crowd parted for him. His eyes landed on his target at long last. He tried to resist the little smirk of satisfaction that tugged at the corners of his lips. With narrowed eyes, he approached her. She was in the dress he adored, but upon closer inspection, he noticed that it was no longer powder gray, but deep violet. Some of the trimmings had been altered as well.
The bodice of the dress was nothing more than a corset- revealing a small amount of skin at her back and forcing her small breasts together and up to create a small valley of cleavage. Puffed sleeves that connected to small strips of lace-edge cloth and ended in a bow around her neck had been added. The skirt was shorter than he remembered. He could see layer after layer of white crinolines beneath the darker top layer. There was a wide black bow that rested on top of the skirt right were her ass was. His fingers twitched involuntarily as she came closer. Tall white stockings and flats with ribbons that tied half-way up her calves completed the ensemble.
"Good evening." There was a tiny smile on her painted lips, but he could hear the pleasure in her voice at seeing him again. She threw both arms around his waist in a tight hug as she gave a high-pitched little giggle, the thousands of perfect blonde ringlets bouncing as she did so. The top of her head barely reached his chest. He returned the embrace, one of his arms around her tiny waist, the other across the top of her back, his hand curling around her thin shoulder. As she pulled away, his hands lingered, dancing over the fabric, meeting her warm skin, then gliding over the textured fabric once more. She looked up at him through thick, long lashes. He knew her large, almond-shaped eyes were typically the color of milky coffee, but in the dark lighting, they appeared black and full of seduction.
She danced around to his back and reached up on her tip toes with both hands, grabbing the neck of his jacket before opening it wide and sliding it down over his shoulders and catching it as it fell from his arms. Her fingers tickled his spine as she rubbed his back through the soft green silk shirt. Her hand fell away and she stepped back around to his front, chewing on the edge of her bottom lip as she tried to hide a smile. Draping his jacket over one arm, she took his hand with the other and led him to the low couch against the wall. There were various other similar couches along the walls, but they were spaced far enough apart as to give each occupant some symbol of mild privacy. Thanks to the music, conversations couldn't be overheard. Due to the poor lighting and the smoke, you almost had to be on top of someone else to see exactly what was going on.
He turned to sit, but before he managed to lower himself, her hands were on his shoulders, pushing him down into the soft, deep cushions. He chuckled a little at her eager expression and watched her hang the jacket he never wanted to wear again on a small hook on the wall above him, but just out of arm's reach. He watched the muscles in her toned calves and thighs as she stretched on her toes to reach. He could almost see under the last layer of crinolines, but then she was back on flat feet and traipsing back to him. She turned in a flourish of skirts and sat on his left thigh, still farther away than he wanted her.
There were rules to this game, and he knew he had to follow them. Every nerve in his body screamed a desire to break them all. Fighting to maintain his composure, he allowed himself one hand pressed to the small of her back, just over the big bow. She took his other hand and pressed his palm to her rosy, plump cheek. He wanted to snatch her tiny body closer and bury her beneath himself. Resistance was necessary, but difficult. This was no new battle, though he could honestly say he'd lost every single time before.
She moved his hand to her mouth, pressing her lips to his palm before taking a deep, long breath, as if she were trying to inhale his very soul. As she exhaled, he pulled his hand away and sat it on the top of her head for just a moment, depressing the two separate mounds of ringlets that sprang right back up the second he moved his hand. She gave that little giggle once more and placed on of her tiny, pale hands on his face.
"I've missed you. Why have you been away for so long?" He frowned and shook his head, his eyes tearing away from hers. This wasn't the place for those thoughts. What little time he had left was for him to enjoy, not for him to spend reflecting upon the poor choices he'd have to live with for the rest of his life. "I'm sorry." At her soft whimper, his eyes snapped back up to her face. Her teeth were chewing her bottom lip furiously, her cheeks were dimpled, and her eyes were wide and full of sadness.
"None of that," he scolded gently, grasping her chin. She gave a little gasp and the nibbling on her lip stopped for a moment. He drew her closer, pressing his lips to hers and grabbing that plump, luscious bottom lip with his own teeth. The tiny moan of pleasure and the way she arched her back to him drove a spike straight from his brain down to his groin. As he released her lip and filled her little mouth with his tongue, his hand tightened on her back and he found one of her own little hands with the other. She needed no guidance, though he wanted to give it. He brought her hand to his shoulder, and the hand that had rested on his chest wrapped around his back. She slid over his lap, coming ever closer to exactly where he wanted her.
She began to fight back, and he felt a familiar fire burn through his chest. Some of her fingers clutched at his neck with the others grabbed a handful of his hair at the base of his neck. She pulled hard, jerking his head back and surprising him just enough for her to force her way into his mouth instead. Her waist had shifted, and she no longer sat on his lap. Instead, each of her knees were buried into the cushions on either side of his hips. She was a straight as she could manage, but her reach was limited. Her hips hovered only inches above his own, and she couldn't keep his head tilted back the way she'd had it.
Releasing her tight hold and pulling away, she huffed a little in frustration. He chuckled, exhilarated. His arms crushed her to his chest, and he could feel her breasts despite the corset that held them so tightly in place. She gazed at him with her head tilted in a curious way. He smirked and dipped his head low, his tongue darting forward to lick up the small beads of sweat that had formed in the small dip that served as her cleavage. She gave a little gasp of delight, but he lifted his head once more. She tasted like vanilla and honey. Her arms came up to wrap around his head and she pressed his cheek to her bosom.
He remained in that place for a long moment. His arms wrapped completely around her so that he reached the opposite side he'd started on. He simply held her, and she him. For at least this moment, he had no obligations, no responsibilities, no guilt. He could have remained in that moment for an eternity, but he was all too aware of the fading effects of the drink and what he knew was the lateness of the hour. He turned his head and licked from the side to the top of her tiny breast before biting down just hard enough to make her shout with surprise, not pain. She latched onto his hair once more and jerked his head back. Her head shot forward and her own teeth and tongue were covering his neck in small marks of affection. He tugged her back gently, looking down at her with one eyebrow raised in a stern expression. She lowered her head and blinked up at him through her lashes, knowing it melted him each and every time.
"Can't you stay?" she begged, grasping at the collar of his shirt, trying to undo the top button. He brought one hand around to wrap over hers, stopping her. He shook his head. "You never stay anymore." She poked out her bottom lip, pouting and crossing her arms over her chest. She sat down fully in his lap and again, the spike returned.
A low groan came from his chest and she gave him a devilish smirk before rotating her hips ever so slightly. He placed both hands on either side of her hips, bringing her to a halt. His thumbs found her hip bones, then fell into the dips and mashed down hard. She bucked, jerking towards him rather than away, her mouth popping open into a perfect "o" shape and her eyes doing the same.
"Two can play this game," he muttered, the words more growled than spoken. As soon as she recovered, her face split into a wide grin.
"Do it again," she whispered, pressing close to his chest. He nuzzled he side of her neck as she lifted herself just a little higher, then he pressed hard once more, making her jump and give a little squeal of delight. Her fingernails dug into his chest and shoulders. He could not repress the feral grin that made its way to his face. She moaned out a little sigh, then lifted her head and adjusted her body to kiss him once again.
He surprised her when he suddenly let go of her hips. Her eyes opened to stare at him, but his mouth moved against hers, distracting her for the split second it took for him to reach the tops of her bare thighs and slide his hands up under the layers of her skirt. He reached around and grabbed each of her ass cheeks in his hands, kneading the firm muscles for a moment before her knees gave out and she was fully pressed against him once more. She shuddered and her nails scraped over the silk on his back.
Before she could do anything more, he'd moved his hands to her shoulders and was forcing her back as gently as he could. When she finally let him go, he gathered her in his arms and stood, ignoring the stab pain in his left knee from an old injury. He turned and sat her down on the couch, kissing the top of her head. Curled up below him, she looked so very small, so fragile. The perfect paint on her lips was smudged, and he felt sure he was wearing most of it now. He caressed her cheek one last time, then turned. She grabbed his hand before he could get more than a step away.
"Please," she begged. She wasn't whining or pouting this time. She was sitting up, genuinely asking for him to stay with her wide eyes framed in long, thick lashes. "Please don't leave me."
"Then come with me," he teased. She bit her lip and her eyes tightened before darting around the room. She pulled him closer.
"Don't," she whispered. "That's not funny." He frowned down at her, and he knew that she could see the question in his eyes. She just shook her head and pursed her lips. "I'll see you next time?"
She was resigned, he realized. He nodded once, then pressed his lips close to her ear. "And you will come with me." He pulled away, glanced at her long enough to see her eyes light up once more, and then he reached up to grab the coat and stalked away.
He skimmed the edges of the crowd to reach the door. Once on the little landing, before mounting the stairs, he used the small, nearly burnt-out candle and the tiny looking-glass to wipe away traces of her make up. He shrugged back into the coat and sighed. He took on his proper posture and demeanor, adjusted himself accordingly, and headed for the real world once more.
The little old man waved to him as he passed back through the store. Erwin was surprised to find it already growing dark in the streets outside. The little tea shop was closed, and the street was mostly deserted. A single figure stood with his back to the rest of the street at the corner where Aspen joined Oak, a larger, busier road.
"Took you long enough," Levi bristled. He looked up at Erwin and sucked his teeth. "You've still got lipstick on your neck."
Reaching up with the black sleeve of his coat, he wiped it away. "Why are you here?"
"Someone has to make sure you aren't followed," Levi grunted back. "You think Pixis is just going to stand idly by if it comes out you go to a shit-hole like that?"
Erwin rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "No, but frankly, after this last expedition, I don't expect I'll be Commander for much longer." Levi shrugged, but chose not to comment. They both stepped out into the slightly busier sidewalk and headed for Wall Rose.
Let me know what y'all think!