I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin
Sometimes you need to remember that you're still alive.
A/N: This is just something I wanted to write. Scenario is that Levi and Hanji return from a mission with heavy losses, both just need release. Enjoy it.
Not much description, I was just dabbling, ha ha.
She didn't remember how she wandered all the way here.
She was at his door in the late hours of the night.
It would have been considered selfish of her to approach him, especially now, right after what had just happened.
After all, he wasn't the only one suffering.
Light poured from the crack under of his door, he was still up. It comforted her to know he was available, everyone else was either asleep or dead. Her hand clenched at the handle of his door, then she pushed it in. The man was used to her bursting in without notice, he didn't bother to acknowledge her as he was standing in front of the fireplace.
"Not a single body could be brought back for rites," he said, but she swept across the room after slamming the door behind her.
"Just...shut up, I know that," she said, her voice cracked. She had been holding it in since they had returned. Her chest swelled with pain, guilt, and most of all, loss. She got too close to him so when he glanced over his shoulder to give her those piercing, gray eyes, she stepped dead in her tracks. Her mouth was slightly agape as she shook her head, she was still trying to keep herself together.
"You can cry if you want," Levi told her.
She wasn't going to, even as he offered a hand to her.
"Neither of us are going to sleep until we do this."
Without question, just as always, she took it.
She agreed with him.
This sort of thing happened after going through Hell for the first time. She was just a mess as much as he was; easily lost, unable to comprehend the deaths of those she spent her training days with, and, ultimately, detached from reality. Her mind was rattled for the few days after her first expedition; she needed to anchor herself before she lost it.
She somehow found her foundation in the Lance Corporal himself.
Once again, just as always, he reeled her close; his other hand went to the back of her head to gently force her head low enough so that he would be able to kiss her. They locked lips instantaneously, thus sparking something that set their bodies ablaze.
Her heart hammered in her chest, her body was already anticipating him. Her physical need came into play, she had to satisfy it quickly. As tongues slipped over one another, he coaxed her towards his bed where he had the decency to remove her glasses and set them on the table. In turn, she tugged at his cravat while he settled atop of her.
She always found it funny that he would find himself straddling her hip. At this, she stifled down a laugh as she managed to slip his cravat off his collar; her pains were beginning to slip away from her. She didn't bother to look at him, she kept her eyes closed; it was better to not see him. His hands traveled down to the helm of her dress; she had only come to him in her nightgown while he had stripped off his harness and jacket.
She may have caught him in the midst of his undressing routine; it didn't matter, it made him easier to touch. Just what she needed.
She broke their kiss so that she could crane her neck a bit and take a nip at his flesh at the junction of his neck. She wanted to know he was alive and real, her teeth sank in. This elicited a sharp gasp and stern warning of,"Hanji..." Her tongue darted over the reddening skin for a moment, then she returned to grazing him with her teeth
Her hands slipped down to his trousers, her deft fingers slightly shaking in anticipation as they undid all that they could reach. She pulled and tugged, then slipped her fingers in to touch the base of his shaft. He was already aroused by this, just by a simple kiss; there wasn't much that needed to be done to set him off.
He never said it, but she had a feeling that he was just as desperate as she was.
He pulled himself away from her and scooted off of her body.
She dared to open her eyes just to peek at him.
The bed no longer dipped under their combined weight; he had slipped off of it so that he could pull down his slacks. As he done so in haste, she sat up and pulled her gown over her head and tossed it aside. Her mind reeled for a moment when she saw him without cover, a rush of heat coursed to her stomach and down to her abdomen; there, it assaulted her.
They didn't need to speak to one another as she invitingly parted her legs just a bit. He took the invitation and climbed over the mattress to settle between her legs; she was already dripping, already in need. Her body needed him, the same went for Levi himself. Her eyes closed as she reached out to his shoulders to pull him up close to her.
Their lips locked once again as his hand went to her thigh to ask her to part further. She knew how this would end up, she didn't bother to wear any garments under her gown.
When she gave him enough room, she felt him press the length of his shaft against her though he wasn't going inside.
"Levi," she murmured against him as her hands traveled from his shoulders to his back. Her palms were splayed over his shoulder blades, holding them as she readied herself. He didn't take time to tease her, he never did, she didn't mind.
"I know," he told her, there was reassurance in his tone.
She inwardly smiled when he entered her without giving so much as a warning. She didn't mind, she didn't mind it as he immediately set a pace that was rough, deep; the pain shot through her for a moment but slowly gave way to pleasure, to reality. She needed to feel she was still there alive. She felt the guilt of being there with him unlike the others who had left.
She closed her eyes.
The exercise they partook in was contradicting to its purpose as it reminded them that they were the ones still fighting for another day. Then again, how else would they would exert their pain?
He was harsh in his thrusts, he rutted into her relentlessly, setting his own pace though her body was responding accordingly after having done this often. She forced herself to enjoy it. It would be inaccurate to say he treated her as though she were an animal, after all, he treated his horse better than her from what she's seen. It was as though he had never learned to be gentle in the first place.
Instinctively, she bucked against him, her hips met him at every step of the way. Her hands traveled her and there across his skin, her nails dug into him when he shifted his hips a bit lower so that he would hit her just right-
She heard him groan when she purposely clenched her muscles; she knew it would drive him crazy. He gasped out her name and ran his hand to the back of her knee so that he could lift it. Again, the change of his angle threw her mind back into euphoria as she groaned in approval.
Her chest heaved, her nipples pressed against his chest when he leaned forward for a moment to press his lips against hers. She could smell the husk of his scent as their sweat mingled with one another. She ran her hands through his hair to caress his scalp; she swore he pressed his head closer into the palm of her hand. He always done that, she knew it comforted him. He pulled back and withdrew his body from her grasp so that he would sit up to kneel in front of her.
Her hands went to the covers and above her head, she grasped that them instead with her fingers digging into the cloth. She could only gasp and hitch her breath at every movement he made; she wasn't so much as a vocal person in bed. As her hips rocked back and forth at his tempo, he began to play with her clit. Once again, he was never gentle. He pinched a bit, stroked her roughly, and yet she found herself nearing the edge.
She thrashed against him, her hips bulked upwards for a moment when his pace picked up drastically. A scream was caught in her throat but she wouldn't release it. She found herself at that edge, she was getting what she needed; he was as well, she could feel him trembling.
He was assaulting her too well. The push and pull, those fingers playing with her clit, and him hitting her at just the right spot, she would have cried out his name but she knew all to well that he wasn't hers, she wasn't his. They knew that. He didn't bother to utter her name as well.
The only sound they made were their labored breaths and the bedframe pounding against the wall.
Her mind nearly wandered away for a moment at the sudden thought of Petra...but then he snapped it back in place when his thrusts brought her attention. She threw thoughts of the woman out the window as she felt that coil in the pit of her abdomen suddenly undo itself. The pleasure coursed through her, numbing her, shrieking at her that she was still alive and very much a part of reality.
She heard him keen above her, he was there as well; warmth entered her as she convulsed all around him. Her back arched as her hands clenched the sheets even tighter. Head trapped in a haze, she slowly found herself coming down from her high, his voice was an echo to her but as he repeated himself, she eventually found a way to distinguish the words.
"...get out."
He withdrew from her and stood up; she opened her eyes to watch him fix his slacks accordingly. He gave her those glasses and threw the nightgown at her.
She was such a mess, a filthy one at that, but she got what she needed.
She was too desperate to notice the state of the room about her.
Strewn about the floor here and there were clothes, but they weren't Levi's clothes.
They were Petra's. He didn't clean his room before they left for that mission; it had been days when they finally returned to headquarters, he left it as it was.
She was hit with reality once more in a painful way, while her hands busied themselves to slip the nightgown on. She found herself anchored in this life, he was alive as much as her, they rest were dead. She wanted to say something but over the years, she learned to not say anything too stupid for his tastes. She slipped out of bed and headed for the door.
"Good night, Levi."
"...hm."