fun fact!

* ball pythons are called such because they curl into balls when they're spooked. such scary little horror noodles.

* in ye olde vampire lore, vampires had an irresistible obsession/compulsion to count things. you could legit drop a bag of marbles on the ground and the big scary bat will stop to count each one. true masters of darkness.

* i have no idea what i'm doing :D

I'LL BE YOUR PARADISE

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PART ONE
cat's cradle

It's always obvious when Eren is in the immediate vicinity. One look at Levi and anyone that knows him can tell. Those who don't will wonder at the sudden change in the taciturn serpent for all of a second; the mystery solves itself when one makes a beeline for the other, often cutting off mid-conversation, bypassing any- and everyone else as if pulled by opposing magnets. It's bizarre and unusual, incomparable to any behaviors documented—from either species, or otherwise. But it's the unconscious displays that say more than either of them ever could.

Gorgons, in general, don't normally change colors. The rare few who can are usually hybrids and the change in pigment is involuntary, done only under special or outstanding circumstances. Ordinarily, Levi's spiked scales are a sleek pitch-black from the waist down, his underbelly an arresting silver with a distinctive lavender hue—much like his eyes. The abstract patches of scales that meld with his skin vary along the same scheme, as do his spines. With his pale skin and pitch-black hair that shines blue in the right light, both his human and serpentine parts are pleasing to the eye. The severe, ever-present glower does nothing to detract from his beauty.

Then his long, forked tongue will taste the Eren-saturated air, and it will be as the dawn over night-chilled waters.

Levi blossoms. Shiny black will burn a vibrant orange-red, mottled with gradients of purple, speckled with brilliant yellows. His cool, ashen pallor blooms into warm peach, and his slitted silver eyes fracture into a mosaic of pinks and violets. The scales at his hips flare into a natural skirt of spikes. More curious are the curling spines, his knife-sharp edges growing soft. It's alarming to witness. Many have mistakenly read the change as aggressive—a common misconception for a creature widely known for its lethality. But you need only to see the way his lips stretch shyly over exposed fangs, the way his crinkling eyes sparkle iridescently, to understand this display has nothing to do with aggression. It's understandably surprising from someone normally so reserved.

Eren, on the other hand, is the exact opposite in both display and demeanor. Subtle is not a word anyone would associate with him. At a staggering six-foot-four with a lean, sculpted physique, Eren is reckless, charming, and honest to a fault; his frankness gets him into trouble more often than not, though it is his refreshing honesty that often endears him to people in the first place. He is larger than life in both stature and personality. Subtlety is not something he is capable of. But, compared to Levi, his tells are hidden to all but the most observant. You have to know where to look.

Unlike Levi, a halfling stuck between two forms, Eren is a shifter. His dual nature is not immediately apparent. Even his canines are subdued in his human shape, nowhere near the fangs his second face boasts. Were he to don his fur and hunker down on all fours, you might see his tail curl in pleasure, or hear the purr that rumbles through his massive frame. These behaviors don't translate as well between forms. But his big green eyes glow, rivaling the intensity of stars. The biggest giveaway is the flush brightening his skin, sepia blooming into warm russet.

When they meet, it is clear. Eren will duck his head to butt his nose against Levi's cheek in greeting, reacquainting himself with the gorgon's scent, and Levi will stretch up to accommodate, tongue flicking out to taste his skin in turn. They paint a lovely, if odd, picture. And yet, somehow, it is painfully obvious to everyone except the parties involved.

It's certainly not for a lack of trying.

.

.

LEVI

The last time I knew his touch so intimately was long enough ago that this feels new. But my body remembers enough to anticipate the feel of him inside me, to want it. And when he finally pushes past the slit of muscle hidden beneath my scales, hips twisted to the side to accommodate him, he swallows the loud moan dripping from my tongue.

Fuck. It's been so long. Two whole weeks. I clutch at his shirt, my head tossed back against the mirror. He pants against my neck as he slowly pushes deeper. "More," I beg, high and needy, and he lets out a pained sound.

"You're so tight," he hisses. "I don't wanna hurt you."

I don't mind, I just want the stretch of him. A little roughness never bothered me. That first, long thrust is my favorite, the initial plunge and subsequent adjustment period, and he does it so well. It's why I wouldn't let him dwell too long on preparing me. I don't know how to explain any of that, however, so what comes out is, "fuck me." My tail wraps around him. To further tempt him, I twist around to brace myself against the mirror, arching my back the way he likes, rolling back against him. I glance at him over my shoulder and he groans. "Please, please fuck me."

Eren has never denied me anything when I ask nicely, and I'm not above playing to my strengths to get what I want. And he never disappoints. His hips press flush against mine, his skin against my scales, and my body bows further. It feels exquisite, sinful.

I still haven't grown accustomed to the girth of him when he pulls out slowly, inch by throbbing inch. The sharp, decadent slide of heat and friction makes my mouth water. But the slow, steady rhythm doesn't last long. Eren is too impatient to go slow, and I'm too eager to let him. The muted slap of skin against scale echoes obscenely in the small bathroom; his absent growling, the embarrassing sounds spilling out of me I won't give a shit about till later.

What am I doing? crosses my mind between one thrust and the next, right before the spike of pleasure signaling the impending, coveted end, but what comes out is a whiny, breathless, "harder."

Behind me, Eren eagerly complies.

Distantly, I wonder if Eren remembered to lock the door before he threw me on the restroom's marble sink. No one has knocked or tried to disturb us. I can hear the chatter of the restaurant through the walls, can feel the reverberation of dozens of heartbeats through the palms I press against the mirror. It's a shallow hum in comparison to the wild pulse fluttering against my spine, the quick, powerful flex of muscle as Eren snaps his hips, driving his cock into me over and over again with increasing frequency and fervor.

I cover my mouth to muffle some of the awful noises I'm making, but he swiftly, gently, pulls my hand away. "I want to hear you," he says against my knuckles, pressing soft, damp kisses to each one.

"They'll hear," I hiss.

"Fuck them," he growls, tilting my head back for a filthy kiss. It's all tongue and teeth. It's perfect. "My bar, my rules."

"Since when—ugh—since when are there r-rules for fuck—fucking snakes in—"

"Since you slithered your pretty ass in the door." He nips at my jaw. "I'm putting up a sign tomorrow. Closed Due to Sodomy. I'll hand out fifty percent off dessert coupons as compensation."

There's a delirious edge to my laughter. "You're ridiculous."

"This is what happens when you leave me high and dry for two weeks, then show up with a leech in my bar, you asshole." Then, softer, "I missed you."

He doesn't play fair. "I missed you, too," I whisper, and that seems to egg him on, encourages him to double his efforts.

I'm not one for exhibitionism, but it's hard to care about other people when Eren puts his hands on me. I don't care who sees us, who hears, who knows what we're doing anymore. They're all insignificant, fleeting thoughts drowned out by the roar in my blood.

"Fuck," he groans into the back of my neck. I shiver all over. "Fuck, baby, you feel so good." I tighten unthinkingly, pushing back against him, desperately wanting more. The asshole knows what he does to me with that voice made of velvet thunder. My fingers curl, talons slipping against the heated glass. Eren's grip on my waist grows punishing, claws digging into skin and scale, and I relish the bruising hold. "I missed you so much." A kiss, soft and sweet on my shoulder in spite of the way he drags me back against him, pounding into me without restraint. "Fucking love the way you take me."

"Eren," I pant against the glass. My breath leaves a damp fog behind. "Eren please, I'm so close, please—"

"I got you." His voice, hot against my ear, sets my nerves on fire. "Come on, come for me."

It's a dirty trick. I'm so weak against him, and he feels so good. I have to brace myself against the mirror with my forearms, struggling for purchase as I lose myself. He wraps an arm around my middle, molding us together. Then Eren cants his hips just so and my body tenses, inside and out; I clench and spasm around him, and my tail constricts in turn, pulling Eren closer, deeper. His pace grows erratic, fucking me through my orgasm as he chases after his own.

I slip further down the mirror, my arms little more than mush, but I don't fall far; he turns me back around so we're pressed chest to chest again, easily absorbing my weight. I rake my talons down his back as the mind-numbing pleasure turns into overstimulation, my eyes rolling into the back of my head. It's perfect. I am completely surrounded and enveloped by him.

It's my favorite place in the world.

Fangs bury themselves into the juncture between my neck and shoulder as Eren shudders with his own release, his fingers tangled in my hair. I can feel the warm, sticky wetness inside, spilling out and over my scales as he continues to drive into me as deep as possible. Sharp-sweet jolts slither up my back, my belly. I moan helplessly against him. The mess will bother me once the fog clears, I know, but that's a problem for later. Right now I don't want to move, basking in the warm bliss of his embrace, relaxed and safe.

"Ease up," Eren pants, retracting his fangs.

"Sorry," I murmur breathlessly, and make a concentrated effort to loosen the muscles wound around Eren's torso. My tail has a mind of its own during sex. Like Eren's habit of biting, the constricting is involuntary.

It was one of the reasons I was warned against fucking outside of my race, and I was sure Eren had gotten the same bullshit. I hadn't asked for anyone's opinion and I didn't appreciate anyone sticking their noses in my business. On that, Eren and I were of one mind. It was all ridiculous puritanical nonsense. I rarely pay attention to unsolicited advice.

Still, in the beginning, I worried. I've witnessed enough mating seasons to know my kind wasn't gentle by nature, never mind the chaotic mindlessness they slipped into once pheromones got involved. An orgy of snakes tangled up in a giant ball of frenzied fucking was horrifying to watch from the outside. There's a reason I waited so long to mate in the first place. It wasn't the roughness that repulsed me—quite the contrary—so much as the mess. The thought of dozens of dicks and all that cloaca spunk rubbing against me was disgusting. Not all gorgons participated in the mating balls, of course, but they were the most common, and it had turned me off to the subject for a long time.

Then along came Eren.

We'd done quite the number on each other the first time we'd lain together. Two inexperienced idiots, all instincts and hormones and no sense, could only spell disaster, but it was so, so worth it. Thank the goddess we'd chalked it up as a learning experience and tried again—and again and again and again until we got it right. I had never appreciated Eren's single-minded stubbornness more.

Maybe that's why I can't quite let go. Eren knows which buttons to push, both good and bad, and there's history there. One touch and I melt; one look and Eren is putty in my hands, willing to follow wherever I lead. Having to go through that learning stage with someone else seems like more of a hassle than it's worth. I don't want to do it with anyone else. I tried. I can't do it. I don't want to. I don't want to.

But I don't know what else to do with this eternal limbo.

"You okay?" Eren nuzzles into my hair.

"Mhm. I think you knocked out one of my contacts, though."

"Shit." He doesn't move. "Sorry."

"S'alright." I have half a mind to fall asleep right here. It's difficult to not to sink into the comforting lull of Eren's embrace. He smells so good, too. I can taste him in the air, strong enough to mask the general odor of bathroom. My only regret is not doing this somewhere with a bed. "I have my glasses in my bag."

"Where's your bag?"

"At the table." With my date. This will be the third date we've gone on and the second in which I'd gotten carried away with Eren. It occurs to me this might have been premeditated, but I don't have it in me to care. If Eren wants to, he's welcome to fuck me on all my dates.

That's probably not a healthy thought to have.

"Will you be able to make it back to your table?"

Sometimes, Eren makes it difficult to pretend this means nothing. He always sounds as though he cares, and I can't afford to think Eren cares. It's dangerous. "I may be blind as a bat—"

"That sounds vaguely racist."

"—but I can make it back to the damn table. I still have one contact in." I lean back and scowl. Judging by the way Eren's big green eyes soften, the pupils a bit more slitted than before, it's not a particularly intimidating scowl. "Also, fuck you. Bats aren't actually blind, okay. I know this. It's an idiom."

"And snakes are super insecure about their piss-poor eyesight, I know. I know. We've been over this. But seeing as your date is an actual vampire, I thought it might be a little insensitive. Y'know, considering I stole you away for dessert."

I refuse to laugh. "We were still deciding on food," I correct. "The appetizers should be out by now. Besides," I add, remembering something he'd said in the heat of the moment, "you called my boss a leech. That's vaguely racist, you ass."

"I'll comp your meal. That should make your boss—or date, whatever—happy as long as he doesn't figure out where you snuck off to."

"I knocked over a bowl of peanuts," I admit. He's probably still counting them.

Vampires are so weird. It's no wonder he needed an assistant. All that money and power is all well and good, but get him counting and it's over. Might as well call it a day and go home because he'll never notice. I like to think I'm an excellent PA, but today isn't the first time I've used his neurosis to my advantage. I should probably feel guilty about that.

Eren snorts, lazily licking at his bite. "Mikasa's probably wondering where I am."

"No, she's not," and I know she isn't. My cousin isn't stupid. I saw her while I was going over the menu I'd memorized forever ago, moments before Eren left her to man the bar alone, and she took one look at me and rolled her eyes. I was too embarrassed to wave.

"Yeah, probably not."

"We should probably get new friends. Ones that don't always assume the worst."

His thumbs trace abstract shapes into my side. "I dunno. Is it really the worst?"

I tighten around him. "No," I mutter. Not at all.

I can think of nothing better.

It's been a long two weeks. Business trips are always a chore, especially ones that had me bouncing around. I wasn't lying when I said I missed him something awful. While the location isn't ideal, I don't mind the reunion. I rarely mind where he's involved. The date hadn't been planned; my boss wanted to grab drinks as soon as the plane landed, so it's really less of a date and more of a last minute thing that coincided with my wanting to visit the bar, but I suppose the ends justify the means. I got what I wanted.

I squirm a little, thinking about the mess we made, how we made it. My date, waiting for me at our table. My cousin, well aware of what we're up to. Eren's absent purring as he cleans the blood from the bite. I've told him time and time again not to do that; a gorgon's blood is toxic to most species, but far be it for him to actually listen to me. He hasn't gotten sick yet, thankfully, and I enjoy the attention. Still, I worry. Eren growls playfully at me when I squirm again, and I rattle at him, only half annoyed.

Eren, who is still hard inside me and getting harder.

Oh.

I clench experimentally, my tail adjusting its grip.

The low, rumbled, "round two?" is met with an eager roll of my hips.

.

.

Two hours later finds me hiding out in the bathroom for entirely different reasons.

YOU
help

GIANT PAIN IN MY ASS
what

YOU
hes drunk and he keeps touchin me and Eren looks like murder plz help

GIANT PAIN IN MY ASS
who? where u?

YOU
Erwin the bar. i was gonna call him a uber but he might get lost up the fuckin steps and i need my job so

i dont wanna have to slap a bitch

jfc hes a handsy drunk fml

hurry the fuck up

GIANT PAIN IN MY ASS
its scientifically impossible fr vampires to get drunk

YOU
idk wtf to tell u just get here

GIANT PAIN IN MY ASS
rnt u dating tho? i thought u liked handsy

YOU
Hanji please

GIANT PAIN IN MY ASS
or is it only w the pssycat lol

YOU
HANJIRAI

GIANT PAIN IN MY ASS
jfc calm ur tits im comin

YOU
ily

LIGHT OF MY LIFE
u owe me

YOU
stfu hurry up

please

ily

That settled, I perch on the sink—the same one Eren fucked my brains out on—to wait. Thankfully, I had the foresight to bring both my phone and my bag with me in my eagerness to get away from Erwin and his grabby hands, so I won't be completely bored. I could have gone behind the bar if I wanted, but I need to keep a clear head. Eren will only distract me, and I can't be sure he won't take one whiff of my anxiety and try to rip Erwin's head off.

Granted, he might still do that anyway. The few times I'd dared to glance at the bar hadn't been promising; when one of his pride was troubled he felt it clear as day, but when their king was angry they all felt it. Some leftover survival mechanism, or some shit. Super invasive. They learn to block it out as they get older, but it's always there. It's why he has to be careful with his emotions, and why they always fucking know what we're up to when he drags me off somewhere—or when I lure him into the gods-be-damned bathroom of his own bar. It was embarrassing as hell in the beginning, but I've gotten used to it. Take the good with the bad. Point being, Eren looked like bloody murder every time Erwin leaned too close, and the other servers were a half-step away from saving him the effort. Better for everyone if I laid low and stayed out of sight for a bit.

This is such a mess.

What the fuck was I thinking? I should have known better than to bring my boss—my date—here, never mind that it's not really a date. Not really. I don't even really like Erwin. He'd asked me out and I'd blurted out a yes because I'm a moron that thought it would make Eren jealous enough to break this stalemate we're in.

I can't help myself when it comes to him. Every time I try to move on, I'll remember how it feels to tangle my fingers in his wild mane of hair and taste the laughter on his lips. He's too beautiful for words. Tall, dark, and handsome, with that deep, smooth voice—and that accent. I could listen to him talk all day.

I cover my face with my hands and groan. Fuck my life.

Now I'm hiding out in the bathroom of my ex-boyfriend's—current something—bar with his pride glaring at my boss-slash-date who's drunk and has no idea he's sitting in the middle of a literal lion's den because I didn't know he'd be such a friendly drunk. I didn't know he could get drunk. He's a fucking vampire. They're not supposed to get drunk. And it's not as if I can't knock him on his ass if he gets too frisky, but I worked hard for this job and it pays well. I need my job. I don't want to lose it because of a shitty lapse in judgment and a scatterbrained vampire.

Mother Medusa help me. I'm so stupid. I'm so stupid. I'll call off this dating bullshit as soon as Erwin has sobered up and I've slept off the jetlag. Two and a half dates aren't enough for anyone to get attached. We'll go back to work and everything will be normal, and I will never show my face here ever again after this fiasco.

All I have to do is sit tight and wait. Hanji will be here soon.

Then I'll throw myself off a gods-be-damned bridge.

"Knock knock," comes the warning a moment before Eren sticks his head in.

"It doesn't count if you don't knock," I hiss. "What if I was actually taking a shit?"

He smirks and closes the door behind him. "Then you should have locked the door."

I taste the air. No anger, no aggression. He's amused more than anything, but there's plenty of concern beneath it. "Fair point."

"You alright?"

"Yeah." I watch him as he perches on the sink beside me. Immediately, I lean into him, soaking up his warmth; being as cold-blooded as I am—in the literal sense—he runs three times as hot as I do, about twice as hot as the average person. Shifters generally do, but Eren's a freak of nature with a high metabolism. It makes sleepovers very convenient for me. I don't have to turn on my space heaters when he's around. "I'm waiting for Hanji to take Erwin home. Figured I'd hide out for a little while so, uh, nothing happens."

"I saw you knock over the bowl of peanuts again."

I bury my face in his neck. He always smells so good. "Sorry, it was the easiest way to distract him. I'll clean it up later."

"Don't worry about it," he purrs into my hair. He starts rubbing between my shoulders, digging into the knots I hadn't known were there, and I melt into a puddle against him. "You were knocking back those mimosas pretty fast. I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Erwin's a good guy," I blurt, feeling guilty. "Don't hate him. He's my boss, but he's also a friend."

"I know."

"I'm going to break it off tomorrow." Maybe he's right about the mimosas. Now that all of the tension has bled out of me, I don't know if this sweet burn is Eren or the alcohol, and my tongue is looser than usual. I want to curl up against him and forget everything. "That's actually none of your business, but I feel like it's important for some reason."

His quiet laugh vibrates through me. "Okay. Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome."

"Comfortable?"

It takes me a moment to realize I'm in his lap. "Yes," I decide, and curl up the way I wanted to.

"Good." His arms cage me in. "Then you'll be happy to know I sent your boss home with Mike. He goes to Mike's gym, apparently, so they're friendly. He'll make sure the vampire gets home safe."

"That's insanely convenient. You just solved all my problems." Well, most of them. I feel like an idiot for getting so worked up earlier. How does he make it seem so easy? "I should probably call Hanji back."

"Mhm. Wanna come over?"

"Are you gonna take advantage of me?"

"Of course not," he snorts, nipping at my ear.

I lean back and scowl. "Then no."

He chuckles. I'm mesmerized by his smile. "Don't pout, sweetheart. It's not that I don't want to. You're very, very tempting right now, all colorful and cute—don't look at me like that, you little spooky noodle. You know you're gorgeous either way, but you also know my policy on mixing sex and booze. It's verboten." He plants a kiss on my nose. It wrinkles, and he kisses it again. Stupid cat. "Aren't you off for the next couple of days?"

"Mhm."

"Then stay over my place. Once you sleep off all your bad decisions, I'll take full advantage of you and you can curl into a lazy ball of snake until you're ready to face the world again. I promise. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect. You're amazing." I lean up for a quick kiss. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Leviosa."

I jerk away. "How dare you!" I rattle at him for good measure.

He laughs and pulls me back in. "Shut up, I love your name," he says into my mouth, and keeps kissing me until I forget everything just like I wanted.

Hanji's going to kill me.