They hurt each other just enough with words that ran rivers deep, with hands that bruised and kisses that stained their skin purple with flecks of blue. They liked the hurt, the ugliness they saw in each other's eyes. It meant they never had to look in a mirror.
Just enough to keep coming back for more, their need ate at them. It was a ghost that pushed the sheets around their ankles and dragged them out of bed, down the dimly lit corridors, and to each other.
It was a lonely apparition that made her kiss him and him kiss her back. Levi kissed her hard and fast until they were breathless. Pressed up against the wall, against each other he could feel every inch of her. His hand was between her legs and the tip of his tongue on her pulse. Her eyes were closed. Squeezed tightly shut. There was no light coming in. He traced her lips with his. Mikasa could feel him smile. It was the gentlest he had ever touched another person. He never touched her like that again. There was always a flicker. They knew what they were doing even if they gave no voice to it.
They never talked about that kiss. They never talked. Not about unimportant things, anyway. They talked strategy, about survival, about Eren. Levi loved seeing her crack. He was her heart. The reason she drew breath. It wasn't that Levi was jealous. No. He had her how he wanted her, where he wanted her, when he wanted her. Jealousy wasn't the same as possession. It wasn't a beast that swallowed him whole.
They were a good team, in and out of the bedroom. No one could deny that. Not even them.
Her words scratched open a wound. Something he had long since forgotten about or felt – a scar that drummed incessantly under his bony chest. She was a cancer – killing him slowly, softly, but most painfully. The way she looked sprawled under him: her black hair strewn against the white of the pillow, her eyes glinting in the darkness, her mouth red from the bristle of his five o'clock shadow. He was never on top for long. It was a game they played and he never wanted it to end. Her arms and legs wrapped around him. He didn't know if she was holding on for dear life or trying to devour him. Either way he smirked, his teeth scraping against her throat. He was the bigger monster.
He wasn't sated on the taste she left in his mouth or the scratches she trailed down his back – he craved more. Bite marks faded away and her smell was always gone by the morning.
If she died he wouldn't have anything to remember her by. Not like that stupid scarf she always wore. Even when his fingers were curled inside her and she was moaning his name.
He wouldn't let her die. Not without him.
"I don't know what this is, but I don't want it to stop." He breathed huskily. Her face was pushed into a pillow and his hands gripped her hips.
"This? This is sex." Mikasa didn't have to see his eyes to know how hurt he was.
But there was always more, with her with them.
He laughed all teeth. No eyes, no heart. He looked like a jackal after it had killed its prey. Blood on its muzzle, hunger beating in its eyes.
Levi leaned down, kissing the bumps of her spine. He brushed her hair aside, his breath hot against her ear and whispered, "Whatever you say."
He was the lie she breathed into her lungs.
It was her game, her rules. But he wasn't a pawn. No he was the king.
