A Young Girl's Fancy

by slingzarrowz

Petra has always loved fairy tales. One night, she decides to act on the impulses of her romantic imagination, but discovers that reality is far, far different from fantasy. Rated MA. Rivetra.

Petra loved her father, but she wasn't sure she believed him. She'd doubted him the first time he'd had "the talk" with her, or at least a version of it. She'd been nine years old, leaning her cheek against the kitchen table and flicking breadcrumbs after breakfast. Her mother had been busily humming at the sink, and her father had said, "Petra, a woman is like a candle."

Or maybe he'd started with "a man is like a match." While Petra brushed down her mare and listened through the open stable doors as Eld and Gunther argued about who had to sweep out the dining hall, she tried to remember exactly.

Whatever he said, the gist was that a man ignites a woman, not the other way around.

Maybe he'd wanted the talk because of her close friendship with Oruo, because he'd assumed that, in a few short years, one of them would invariably fall in love with the other. Or maybe he'd already caught onto the fact that his sweet, thoughtful daughter was also a little hellion, always climbing onto rooftops and ripping her stockings on the way down, already glimpsing her future as a member of the Survey Corps from gabled peaks. Maybe he'd tried to steer her towards marriage and safety even then.

A man ignites a woman, not the other way around.

Or, as her mother later said when Petra turned thirteen, "It's all right if you don't like a boy right away. You just need to give people a chance, Pet. You shouldn't feel too much of anything until he's safely in love with you. A good woman waits for commitment before she wants, er, anything else from a man.

"Men fall in love at first, and women at last."

Petra had understood that she shouldn't expect to desire a man before she married him. That men craved the pleasures of flesh more than women. That good women did not let sex dictate their choices. That all sorts of tricky stuff—passion, especially—could wait until after the wedding.

"Well, I fooled them," Petra whispered to her horse, grinning when the beast snorted and nosed at her bright red hair. "You're the love of my life, you lucky devil." She grazed her knuckles against the horse's velvety muzzle, picked up the bucket of water, and, humming, made her way back out to the courtyard and the blazing sun. Squinting, Petra shifted the bucket and shaded her eyes with her left hand. Gunther and Eld had gone inside, and she was alone.

They'd brought Eren, that boy from the 104th, here two days before. As they'd ridden out of the forest and come upon the gates of the castle for the first time, Petra's breath had caught in her throat. She'd loved her fairy tales as a child (and still did, privately.) The castle, their new headquarters, appeared to have been lifted straight from the pages of her most beloved stories. Ivy wreathed the turrets; creamy white walls gleamed in the sunlight. Round, cathedral-style windows of stained glass bathed the courtyard flagstones in a rosy glow, and the moat wound about the place like a shimmering ribbon. It was as if someone had taken a whimsical watercolor and breathed dimension into it.

It wasn't until you got closer, Petra noted, that you saw the flaws. The weeds erupting out of cracks in the flagstones; the dust thick on every surface; the stench of the moat's stagnant water, a veritable breeding ground for vein-hungry mosquitoes.

Just like any fantasy, Petra reasoned, setting the bucket down before the dirty mullioned window. If it looks too good to be true, it probably is.

Petra knew she was in an uneasy mood today. Any reasonable person would state that she was out in the middle of nowhere, guarding a boy who possessed the power to turn into a bloodthirsty monster. Of course she felt uneasy.

But it wasn't the type of worry that came with titans. Her mood today was both different and familiar, the same uncertainty she'd felt since she was fifteen years old and had bolted from her house to watch the Survey Corps ride back into town. She'd stood amongst the jostling crowd and seen the newest and already most celebrated member, the man they called Levi, sitting astride his horse and glowering at the cheering throngs like they'd personally insulted him by showing up.

Petra hadn't been uncertain about him; he'd appeared starkly clear, as if etched in black and white. It was everything else—every other boy or man that she'd seen since—who made her feel unsure.

Perhaps she was in a mood because of what Oruo had said to her two days ago…

She started cleaning the window as sweat trickled down her temples and dampened the back of her shirt. The sun was too hot. Of course Eld and Gunther had disappeared into the cool, dark halls and left her here. Sighing, she squeezed the rag to wring out excess water.

"He was just trying to get to you," she muttered to herself.

Oruo had been an absolute ass as they'd ridden to their new headquarters, putting on airs and bragging about himself to Eren. The poor, wide-eyed kid had simply sat there while Oruo had thrown his weight around, threatened the boy, and otherwise embarrassed himself. Petra had pointed that out in the yard later. That was their usual routine, had been since they were kids. She'd remark that he was being a dumbass, and he'd helpfully do something to prove her point. But then she'd brought up the captain.

It was damned obvious that Oruo was trying to imitate Captain Levi. The ridiculous cravat, for one thing, not to mention his pitiful attempts to "talk tough." It irritated Petra to see Oruo act so false, like an itch between her shoulder blades. She'd told Oruo to knock off the second-rate imitation, and that's when he'd said,

Trying to nag me, Petra? If you want to act like my wife, there's more you need to do first.

That was typical behavior on the surface, Oruo being Oruo. But the way he'd glanced at her out of the corner of his eye—the way she'd sworn sweat broke out on his brow—indicated that he was checking her reaction. Waiting to see if she'd…what? Blush? Bite her lip? Sigh and fall at his feet?

Hadn't something in his expression whispered, Please. Please do more.

Petra wiped harder at the window, gritting her teeth with the effort. Finally, the caked-on dirt began to wash away. Now she could make out the image of a woman holding a newborn child. Sweet.

Wouldn't her father just sigh and nudge her and say, now how about that, Pet? Ready for that?

"My mind's all over the place today," Petra said aloud. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead.

"Talking to yourself again, Petra?" Oruo drawled behind her. Petra flinched even as she rolled her eyes. "They say that's the first symptom of insanity."

"Who's "they"?" She turned around and glared at him. Oruo fluffed at the white cravat poking out of his coat collar. He'd even taken to wearing a kerchief over his hair to keep the dust off, just like Levi.

"Hange, of course." He made a tch sound. Petra wanted to murder him. "That crappy four-eyes would know a thing or two about being crazy."

Petra smiled sweetly, even as she felt her jaw clench. "It's true that you can't stand women who're smarter than you. Also, if you're going to be Levi the Second, I think the word is shitty, not crappy. Friendly reminder." She turned back to her work, shaking her head in annoyance. The captain's vocabulary certainly left a lot to be desired. He was no smooth talker. Too short. Neurotic. Unsociable. In other words, everything she hadn't imagined him to be when she was fifteen and lying in bed, breathless with a new, achingly sweet sensation.

On first meeting him, her girlish dreams had cracked like glass.

Oruo hmphed. She'd bet money his arms were crossed. "Women with sharp tongues have a hard time catching husbands."

"How's your tongue doing?" She smirked over her shoulder. Wincing, Oruo brought a hand to his lips. He had a bad habit of biting his tongue on horseback, which was no more than he deserved.

"Fine," he muttered. Petra continued cleaning, waiting for him to skulk away. Instead, he sidled up next to her. "Uh. Petra?"

She paused mid-wipe. He didn't sound like the pompous Levi imitator now. Oruo shuffled his feet, and looked much more like the boy she'd grown up with. A bit awkward, but exceptionally bold. Petra turned, wary. Was this a trick?

"Yes?"

"I, uh, think I may have gone too far the other day." He watched her, as if weighing every shift of her features. "If I did, I'm sorry."

She was tempted to crack wise about how it was impossible to tell which incident he was referring to, since he always talked like an idiot. But she didn't, because she knew exactly what he meant. In general, the captain and the men on the team didn't treat Petra like "the girl" at all, which she relished. She trained as hard as they did, fought as hard, and drank (almost) as hard in the evenings. Still, even as a joke, discussing her sexually created an automatic divide. It didn't make her lesser, but it did signal her as different. She became neither a soldier nor a woman, a "feathered fish" as her mother would say.

"No, it's all right." She meant it, and shrugged. "Just one of your crappy jokes. I'm used to them."

"Shitty jokes," Oruo corrected, grinning. Petra laughed despite herself. Oruo's shoulders eased, and he tugged the kerchief from off his head and mopped his brow. "It's hot as balls out today." That wasn't a Levi-ism; that was just Oruo.

Petra liked it better that way.

"Gunther and Eld ran away before they got stuck with window duty." Petra wetted her cloth again. "We'd better get busy. If the captain sees a speck of dirt by nightfall, he'll be furious."

"I'm clearing out the yard," Oruo moaned, cracking his back. "Of course Hange and the captain had to take that brat on some training exercises. This should be his job."

Petra frowned. "I wish you wouldn't call Eren a brat."

Children had always been Petra's soft spot, and the boy was so raw, so wild, but so sweet. He was also clearly terrified, even as he tried to hide it.

Oruo shrugged. "Captain Levi does," he said.

Was it her imagination, or did he watch for her reaction?

"Well, I wish he wouldn't either, but he's our superior. He gets to make the rules."

"Exactly. If he calls the kid a brat, so do I."

"Well, I don't want you to," she said, cross. She wiped so hard, Petra was half certain she'd break the glass. "But I know that won't stop you."

There was a moment of silence. Then, Oruo said, "It might."

Petra stopped cleaning; there was a tension in the air, one she recognized. A cool breeze mercifully wafted over the courtyard, kicking up dust and playing with her bob of red hair. Oruo cleared his throat.

"If," he said, voice low, "you said 'please, master,' I'd consider it."

Petra balled up the cloth and threw it at him. Oruo stepped away, laughing. "I'll show you who's the master around here," Petra grumped, but giggled as well. The tension had dissipated. It was normal again. "Get back to work, or we'll be in trouble."

Oruo began to shuffle away, but stopped. "Petra, can I ask you something?"

She didn't turn to look at him. "What is it?" She fixed her eyes on the mother and child in the window.

"If…if I invited you to come for a walk after dinner tonight, what would you say?" The seconds crawled by. "We never really talk anymore, just the two of us," he said, too quickly. "Gunther's always around, y'know. Moaning about something or other."

He was trying to chase away the quiet with more speech. Petra knew she'd have to answer, but felt frozen in place. Since she was a child, she hadn't known a life without Oruo. Even though he was a couple years older, he'd been her second shadow, tailing her through the winding streets of town. Petra had noticed at an early age how Oruo's mother would laugh with Petra's and nudge her. They'd mutter about wedding bells and shush one another, as if the children couldn't hear every single word.

And Petra had noticed at around twelve or thirteen that Oruo began to look longer at her, while she never looked back.

He was her good friend, though he could be an asshole times.

They were comrades in arms.

This wasn't the time or the place for…anything.

But Petra had started to take her father's letters personally, the ones where he discussed her younger sister's impending marriage, and how chasing after monsters might really be Petra's way of running from something that scared her more.

Oruo was a lit match that'd burned for some time.

Weren't there stories about childhood friends who finally knew true passion in each other's arms?

Why was it always stories with her?

What would Levi…the captain…think if he found out?

Or would he think anything of it at all…

"Petra?" Now Oruo sounded concerned.

Decision made, she turned to him. "Lose the cravat, and do the dishes. Then we'll see."

His entire face brightened. She decided that he looked rather handsome when he smiled. And he was certainly tall.

"Nag, nag, nag," he said, but whistled as he returned to the yard. Petra, meanwhile, looked at the window, which was clean enough that she could see her own reflection staring back.

She wasn't smiling.

The evening air mellowed the last notes of birdsong. Petra walked alongside Oruo. He shortened his strides while she lengthened her own, a common practice since their adolescence. The earth swallowed the sounds of their footfall. Somewhere at the edge of the forest she'd picked up a stick, and was idly tapping it against tree trunks and whipping it around. She realized she'd reverted straight back to their childhood, but that's how it felt when it was just the two of them.

"Don't hit me with that." He put up his hands in mock defense.

"Don't do anything to make me," she replied, and took a hard swipe through the air. Oruo chuckled.

This part was so easy, and she wanted it to last. Petra tilted her head back to watch the dying sunlight slant through the leaves. She breathed deeply, the scent of the fresh earth settling her blood. Getting out of the city had been one of the perks of this job.

"The air here's so clean," Petra said. Oruo snorted.

"So clean even the captain can't complain."

She eyed him. "He's not that particular."

"Eld said he sneaks into people's rooms to make sure our sheets have hospital corners." Oruo scoffed at that. Finally, a Levi action that he didn't want to imitate. His neck, Petra observed, looked rather bare without that stupid cravat. It suited him better.

"And how did Eld find that out?"

Oruo grinned. "He and Katrina were, eh, trying not to make noise in his closet."

Oh, she did not need to know that. "Didn't they have a bed?"

"Yeah, but the captain was coming, and it wasn't the regular visiting day."

Sometimes Petra did not understand men. "Captain Levi probably cares about hospital corners more than he does our sex lives," she said.

"We end up talking about the captain a lot, don't we?" Oruo grew quieter.

Petra didn't respond, merely traced her stick along the ground. As they'd entered the forest, she'd had to keep herself from looking backwards to see if someone—if the captain—was watching her go off with Oruo. He hadn't seemed to react in any way when they'd finished washing up after dinner, and Oruo had motioned with his head towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Eren had asked, his eyes bright even after a day of work. He'd been scrubbing out the last pot, his sleeves rolled to his elbows.

"For a walk, brat." Oruo said it flatly, but the boy hadn't picked up on his non-invitation.

"I haven't seen all the grounds yet." He'd looked so endearingly perky, and Petra had prayed that maybe he'd come along.

"Er, Eren, why don't Eld and I show you that card game we talked about earlier?" Gunther had said, clapping the kid on his shoulder. Eren had stammered thanks, and Petra had watched Gunther and Eld make eye contact and nod. That was it, she realized. They understood what this was about. Whether Oruo had told them or not, they were helping. It felt like all her friends were nudging her towards Oruo, silently approving the potential pair.

Or maybe the guys just wanted to help Oruo get laid.

The thought made her stomach sink.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" As a last resort, Petra had turned to Levi, still seated at the table.

The captain had glanced at her, his thin gray eyes hooded and his expression as implacable as ever. He'd been holding a cup of tea to his lips, his hand gripping it around the rim in that odd—unique, she should say—style. He sipped, and didn't seem to notice the attention focused upon him as he passed judgment on Oruo's romantic destiny.

"If you see any titans, tell 'em to fuck off," he'd replied. The boys had all snickered, Eren included, and Petra had followed Oruo out the door and into the evening.

He didn't seem to care one way or the other, Petra thought, her shadow blending into the deepening twilight. Of course, why would he? Petra had meant it when she'd said the captain didn't care about their sex lives.

(He didn't care about her sex life. Didn't care at all.)

But if she and Oruo…wouldn't it upset the delicate balance of their unit? Of course, there was nothing illegal about fraternizing with someone of equal rank, even if you were in the same squad.

I'd only break the rules if I slept with the captain, she thought. Petra noticed how, even in the privacy of her mind, she rarely called the captain by his name.

She wanted to imagine that she'd seen him hesitate over his tea when he realized what was going on. He was an observant man, sometimes too much so, and he couldn't be blind. Well, then again, when it came to the nuance of two people weaving around each other, maybe the captain didn't have an inside track. Maybe she wanted him to care enough to be jealous. To pause. To grow flustered, or irritated, anything that would give his feelings away.

If he even had any feelings for her, which seemed unlikely.

"Petra?" From the urgent way Oruo said it, she got the feeling he'd repeated her name a few times already. She stopped, dropped the stick.

"Sorry. I was thinking," she murmured.

Oruo gestured to a clearing made gold by the sunset. "Want to stop for a minute?"

He was using that tone, the one that men adopted just before…

"We could keep going," she said weakly.

"It'll get dark soon. We can stop here, then turn back." He moved past her, his eyebrows waggling. "C'mon. Unless you're afraid a gang of squirrels is gonna come wandering by."

"I'm not afraid of titans," she scoffed, and shuddered. "But squirrels are the worst."

"I'll protect you. Promise." He herded her into the clearing, and Petra made sure to keep her back to him. Her heart pounded; a small voice inside of her was screaming to take off into the woods. She wanted to strangle that voice. It wasn't as if Oruo was going to suddenly fling her to the ground and ravish her, after all. Even if he tried, she'd graduated fifth in their class to his eighth; she'd kick his ass. His boots shuffled behind her, and she breathed out in relief when she heard him stride away. She stepped onto a fallen tree, balancing as she looked out into the darkening depths of the forest. Even the birds had grown silent. The golden light turned red, and Petra knew that her hair was a halo now. The angel effect, as her father called it.

Her father and mother would have rejoiced if they knew what was happening. "That Oruo will keep you safe," her mother had said when Petra burst in to tell them about being chosen for the Levi squad. Everyone's congratulations to her had been muted, but Oruo? Well, what a strong, brave man he was. Any woman would be lucky to—

"Petra?" She felt his breath stir her hair. Every muscle in her body froze.

"Yes?" she whispered. She heard him inhale, and then his hands were on her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut. This was good. This was good. She needed to understand how good this was and stop being selfish. He wanted her, had always wanted her, and that was all a woman needed. To see a man sick with love for her would increase her own affection. That was the natural way.

She needed to believe that.

"Petra," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. She let him turn her, and gazed up at him. She schooled her features—she didn't want him to see her looking frightened, that wouldn't do. Instead, she adopted a neutral expression.

Oruo's eyes were half-lidded, his mouth lightly curled in a smile. This close, it amazed her that he was only twenty-three, barely more than a youth. He'd been cursed with a weaker chin and naturally heavy bags beneath his eyes. Lines had bracketed the sides of his mouth since he was nineteen.

So odd that a young man like Oruo should look to be in his mid-thirties, while an older man like the captain appeared so surprisingly young.

Stop thinking about the captain, the voice in her head shouted.

Oruo's eyes shut as he closed the distance between them, and kissed her.

Petra gave herself over to the motions, running through them as she would a dance. Kiss the top lip, two, three, change to the bottom, two, three, top again. She wasn't repulsed, but she went about it with the same urgency with which she'd brush her teeth. Oruo pressed her close. Instinctively, she clung to his shoulders and noticed that his green Survey cloak was gone. She was trapped against the wild beating of his heart. Could he feel the unhurried pace of her own?

His tongue teased her lips. Gasping in surprise, she opened her mouth and he took the opportunity. He cupped the back of her neck as his tongue thrust against hers. She made a soft noise, which seemed to please him. His other arm wrapped tight around her waist, lifting her up slightly. His kisses grew more forceful, hungrier. He broke away from her lips to kiss down her cheek, to nibble along her jaw.

"Oh Petra," he moaned, kissing her neck. She thrust her head back, squeezing her eyes shut. How long had this already lasted? When could she end it without being rude? And why, why was it always the same? The same counting of kisses, the same waiting for it to be over, the same feeling of being a lump in someone's ardent embrace? She'd had two previous lovers, and no matter how desperately she wanted to feel something, she'd always end up lying on her back and staring at the ceiling while they thrust and grunted and groaned. They'd found her so intoxicating. Even her indifference had aroused them. Why couldn't she feel as they had?

Was there something wrong with her?

Maybe when you married a light came on somewhere in your body and your pleasure increased. Or maybe women weren't born with that kind of sensation—well, not good women, as her mother would've said.

But, Petra thought as she let Oruo's mouth find hers again and scraped her cheek against his growing stubble, hadn't she felt so alive when she was a girl? The first time she'd seen Captain Levi riding through the gates of the city, she'd walked away dizzy and euphoric. She'd lounged on the floor, her arms and legs spread, giggling about nothing while she'd gazed at the ceiling, trying to perfectly recall the man's eyes, his chin, his lips and hands. In bed, she'd prayed her sister didn't wake up on the other side of the room as she'd touched herself, panting quietly while she pictured his arms, his body, his hands on her, his fingers taking the place of hers, and she'd shuddered with pleasure and curled into a ball, letting her body spend itself in ecstasy while she pretended he was whispering tenderly into her ear.

Just the thought of him had set her on fire. Then she'd met him, of course, and her youthful dreams had fallen away. She'd thought that was that, but…

If anything, it was easier to fantasize about a real, flawed man than a myth. Easier to desire him.

Petra closed her eyes and thought of him then. She pictured herself in smaller arms, pretended that Oruo's features grew sharper, his jaw more defined. She envisioned herself kissing someone with gray eyes and raven black hair, and as she did so Petra's touch skated along Oruo's undercut. The bristling hairs tickled the pads of her fingers, and she imagined it was Levi's undercut, and a wash of pleasurable warmth surged through her. She moaned against his mouth.

Oruo moaned back, and ran his hand down her body. He squeezed her ass, and then Petra felt him fumble at her cloak, unbutton it, slide it from her shoulders. She didn't open her eyes as he lifted her into his arms, as she let him place her on the ground, as his body covered her own. She realized they were lying on his artfully spread green cloak; he'd planned this perfectly. He nudged her legs apart, and then she could feel him there, hard against the juncture of her thighs. Oruo hoisted himself up onto one arm to gaze down at her. She watched him watch her, that possessive gleam in his eyes, his lips parted as his other hand deftly undid the top buttons on her blouse. He traced the hollow of her throat with his fingertips, moved down to cup and knead her breast through the thin cloth of her shirt. She gasped, and he squeezed harder. He groaned in pleasure, his erection rubbing against her. She realized he wanted to have her immediately, here in the forest. Mine, that was what the look in his eyes said. He wanted to claim her.

It should have been a wild, passionate scene ripped from the pages of another of her idiotic stories, but Petra could only feel herself growing more and more tired as he fell back on top of her. Her annoyance increased with men when they rode her, so sweaty and naked and making such ridiculous faces. Oruo didn't deserve to be thought of in that way. She shut her eyes tight and envisioned the captain, the captain, Levi…anything to end this embarrassment.

If you go through with this, odds are he'll ask for your hand the instant he's finished. Probably while he's still inside of you. The thought went off like a firework. Wouldn't that be convenient, though? That was her mother's favorite word: convenient. If she took a husband, her parents would finally stop badgering her. If her husband were Oruo, they would be so happy. And if Oruo were her husband, he'd never argue with her to sit at home or disapprove of her career. They'd fight together, their bond made closer than before. A marriage between soldiers was not unprecedented, even in the same unit. She could imagine the captain rolling his eyes and telling them to "quit your fucking and get ready to train." Gunther and Eld would probably laugh and joke with Oruo about the whole thing.

Everyone would be delighted…except for her.

Oruo was growing breathless with kissing her. His body trembled atop hers. This wasn't his first time with a woman—she recalled his training corps girlfriend—but he'd always glanced at her when he had his arm around somebody else. Until they'd been recruited to Squad Levi, she'd tried distancing herself from him, just to give him a chance to find somebody. But that had hurt them both, and she'd stopped.

He took her hand, guiding it down his body. He wanted her to touch him, to pump him, to excite him even more. Petra felt as if she were watching this from several yards away, seated on a rock with her face in her hands, bored and waiting for the climax so she could go home.

The longer this went on, the more embarrassing it would be to stop.

Petra didn't want to close her eyes and pretend Oruo was somebody else. He was a brave, good man, if a bit ridiculous. A man like that deserved a lover who wanted to keep her eyes open.

Just as Petra deserved to want the man panting on top of her. Her eyes snapped open.

"Oruo. No," she gasped. "Stop."

He rolled off of her, and lay there with his hand on his chest. His breath came fast while he calmed down. Petra surreptitiously did up the buttons on her shirt.

"Sorry. I got carried away." He turned his head and beamed. In his eyes, she saw just how he felt, and it fractured her heart. "We can build up to that." He rolled back, draping an arm across her stomach and nuzzling at her ear. "You make me want to lose control," he growled, and caught her mouth with his once more. One more time, she let him…and then placed her hand against his chest, gently pushing him away.

"Oruo." She couldn't find the words, but tears welled in her eyes. They said everything she'd wanted to.

"Oh." He sat up, hands resting on his knees. Slowly, he hung his head. "Oh," he said again.

"I'm sorry." Petra scrambled up as well, getting to her feet and dusting herself off. Even if she didn't need to apologize for this, she wanted to say something comforting. "I…I thought maybe if we tried it, I'd…"

"I understand." He still wouldn't look at her, but his voice sounded gentle. "Hey, nothing ventured, you know?" He laughed weakly.

Petra dashed the tears from her cheeks. In a story, this all would have looked like a colossal mistake. He was a friend whom she loved dearly, he was fine looking, he was an exceptional fighter, he respected her, and he adored her. But you couldn't live in a story. As a child, Petra had regretted that whenever she closed a book. Now, she saw the wisdom of it.

You think you deserve better than this? A woman's voice hissed in her ear. Not her mother, not Oruo's mother, but some combination of them and of all of the mothers of sons in all of the world. Choosy women end up alone. Look at him; you've broken his heart.

Petra knew that she wasn't responsible for anyone but herself, but she resented those phantom voices that made her feel awful for wanting something. It was nearly dark by now, and she could barely discern Oruo in the gloom. The final burst of golden light had faded. Petra made her way over, fell to her knees, and threw her arms around him. Oruo stiffened at her touch, but soon relaxed into it. He even returned the embrace.

"It's fine," he said. Her chin quivered, and her tears bled onto his shoulder.

"I really wish I could," she gasped, fighting against a sob. She'd always been emotional, unable to stop from crying over a bleeding comrade, unable to keep her temper in check when someone teased her. Oruo stroked her hair. She sensed that, tonight, he was grateful for the tears. At least it meant she cared.

"It's fine," he repeated. It wasn't true, but he'd say it until it was. After a few minutes, Petra broke from him, still sniffling. She didn't even have a handkerchief on her. She was a mess. "Let's head back," Oruo said, standing and dusting his knees. He looked to the moon sailing overhead. "Tch. Bet that brat'll have turned titan by now. It'll be up to us to rescue everyone else."

His voice held that Levi bravado again, but Petra didn't scold him for it.

Alone in the moonlit kitchen, Petra made tea and steadied her nerves. The kettle whistled as she forced herself to remain calm. She poured a little boiling water into the pot to warm, then tossed it out and scooped in some leaves. The tea was fragrant, bright with orange and bergamot. The captain liked this blend in particular, but only seemed to bring it out on special occasions.

Tonight, Petra had decided, would be special if she had her way.

While she waited a few minutes for the tea to steep, she drew a shaky breath. It wouldn't do to show up in his chambers with eyes swollen from crying, after all. No one had said anything when she and Oruo came back and sprang apart from each other, barreling down opposite ends of the hall. Hange would've called it "repelling," two similar types ricocheting away. Like magnets, she'd say, or two equally abnormal titans.

But Petra had seen Gunther and Eld exchange another pointed look. Eld had even shaken his head in clear sympathy. Eren had been engrossed in the rules of some card game, and the captain…

He'd watched her, she realized, as she'd hurried for the stairs. Glancing over her shoulder on the way up, praying that no one would ask any stupid questions, she'd seen him watching her with that emotionless expression. He could have been thinking anything, from whether or not she'd fucked Oruo to the words of his favorite song. She'd have no way of knowing based on looks alone.

But her stomach had roiled as she'd closed the door to her room and sat on her bed. Tears had dropped onto her hands, and she'd bowed her head to her knees and given herself over to crying. She felt so terrible for Oruo, and so wretched for herself. Of course she ran after monsters instead of men; there was something abnormal inside of her. Good men offered her love, and she couldn't reciprocate.

Perhaps she ought to acknowledge what her mother's words had hinted at for years. Petra was not a "good woman." Love wasn't enough for someone like her. She hungered for something darker, more dangerous.

As a girl, she'd envisioned the captain as some kind of shining knight, a prince from one of her wasteful, wishful fairy tales. But when she'd known him as he truly was—crude, unsmiling, and so, so strong—she'd shifted his role. He wasn't the virtuous prince waiting at the end of a story, the heroine's reward. He was the beast lurking in the forest, the wolf at the door.

A man like that…she'd seen the way the upper class women of Wall Sina reacted to him during those annual balls that the Commander insisted upon for fundraising, and which the captain detested. He'd stand by the side of the room, dressed impeccably and scowling like he had a hernia as women in silks and furs glided up to him. Petra had watched as they flirted, touched his arm, tried to get him to dance, attempted to lure him into a secluded corner. So short, she'd heard one of them whisper while getting a glass of wine. Maybe not where it counts, her friend had hissed, and they'd giggled like fools. Petra had wanted to stab them both with a fork, but that wouldn't have raised any money. She'd glowered as those women and others like them flounced up to the captain, wanting to see if Humanity's Strongest could please them. While Petra never caught the captain's exact reply, he always ended up alone within instants of opening his mouth.

A man of few words, he made them count.

But still, he had to be masterful with women when he wanted them. Such ferocity on the battlefield must translate into the bedroom. Soon after she'd joined his squad, she'd lie there in the dark and, almost against her will, imagine him storming into her room and tearing the clothes from her body. Sometimes she fought him, even as she secretly loved it; sometimes she submitted willingly, hating herself in silence. He was always rough, and talented. His face would be dark, wickedness carved in every sharp plane and chiseled feature. Petra had imagined herself naked and thrown onto her hands and knees, crying out in pained ecstasy as he thrust into her from behind. He would grip her by the hair and force her head down, fucking her any way he wanted. Petra had pictured him taking her in every conceivable position, and she knew without having to be told that he'd be good at it. So damn good. So violent, and so deliciously cruel.

If all she wanted out of life was to be fucked like a wild animal, then she ought to give herself permission. After all, the titans could get her at any time, maybe on this next expedition in the upcoming weeks. She wanted to die with no regrets, if she had to die at all. Knowing how the captain felt inside of her would wipe away any concerns she might have about mortality.

"Tea's done," she whispered, as if to bolster her courage. She placed the teapot on a tray, one cup beside it, and walked carefully toward the stairs.

The castle was so large that everyone had copious amounts of privacy; at least she didn't have to attempt this in the barracks. The country night was so still, Petra swore her heartbeat would wake everyone else. It was that loud in her ears. Every inch of her skin felt like it was on fire, her nerve endings tipped with lightning. Anticipation cramped in her gut and ached between her thighs. She hissed in a breath, balancing the tray on one hand while she rapped knuckles on his door.

"Sir?" She kept her voice low. No response. The seconds ticked by, and her heartbeat only grew louder.

Maybe he hadn't heard? The captain was a notorious insomniac. In the barracks, tucked in her own room (one of the benefits of being the only female squad member) she'd sometimes listen to his boots creak past her door in the night. He never stopped to knock, unfortunately.

Maybe she should knock again? What if he wasn't in his room? What if he'd gone for a walk, and would come up behind her while she knocked and repeated his name like an idiot?

Petra noticed that the door was ajar, and saw candlelight flickering through the crack. Biting her lip, she took a chance and pushed the door open. It creaked, a deep, ghostly sound that seemed to go on forever. Petra flinched, and the cup jostled on its tray. If she dropped this…

"Sir?" she whispered, slipping in and closing the door behind her. The captain had taken one of the larger rooms for himself, though it was far from luxurious. He didn't have her four poster bed with its feathered mattress, or Eld's collection of hanging tapestries. This place was cavernous, with high, wooden-beamed ceilings and slick stone walls. Candlelight rippled across the polished floor; he must've seen to the cleaning himself. The room smelled of lemon and beeswax.

Petra's eyes trailed to the bed, bare apart from a thin blanket and pillow. Considering how rarely Levi slept, he probably didn't require anything else. His well-oiled ODM equipment hung on a wall tack, secure beside a cupboard. Through one open door, she could see his green Survey cloak.

Several candles lined his desk, flames thinning in the night air that wafted through the open window. Papers were strewn all around—the opposite of his normally organized surroundings—and some had fallen to the floor. Petra looked up to find Levi, the captain, the great seducer of her erotic imaginings…dead asleep in his chair.

Asleep, with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl etched in his face. Even dreaming, he looked fierce.

Petra took a few steps nearer, at a loss. This wasn't turning out at all how she'd planned. Would…would he wake up? Should she leave the tea here? But then she'd lose her chance to talk to him…unless she came back for the tray later? Would he be awake then? Or would he open his eyes after a blissful night's rest to find a cold pot of tea on his desk and Petra wavering bleary-eyed in front of him?

She couldn't very well shake him awake and demand he seduce her.

Maybe this had all been a spectacularly bad idea. She stepped backwards, heading for the door. A least none of the others knew what she'd been planning…

The captain flinched, and made a noise. Petra stopped short, the tea sloshing in its pot. Levi shook his head back and forth, his brow furrowing. He bared his teeth in a grimace, making another noise like someone was punching him.

She knew she should go, but found it'd become impossible to move.

"No." Levi's eyes shot open, and he lurched forward. He said it as if giving an order. He blinked, and his bloodshot eyes found her as she stood there holding a tea tray like an idiot. He shoved the chair back and was on his feet in an instant, hand grasping at something under a pile of papers… "Petra?" His shoulders relaxed. "Fuck are you doing here?"

The ivory-inlaid hilt of a knife peeked out at her from under the paperwork.

"Um." She held up the tray. "I brought you tea? Sir."

His thin eyebrows lifted. For a man with such a stoic countenance, it was quite the reaction. "That's sweet of you. Looking to keep me awake?" He yawned, and stretched. He'd taken his jacket off, and that thin shirt accentuated his muscular physique—

Had he asked her a question?

"Ah, no. I couldn't sleep, so I thought you might not be asleep, either."

"Usually, I'm not." He brushed a hand through his hair. He had the most youthful face, but nothing could hide the dark circles beneath his eyes, evidence of a bruising lack of rest. If he were exhausted, sex would probably be the last thing on his mind.

"If you're tired," she began, but he cut her off.

"No. I think that's enough for tonight." He went predatorily still. It was unnerving to watch, and Petra got the feeling that he woke frequently from bad dreams. "It's what, almost dawn?"

"Uh, half past two, I think."

"Well, shit." He turned over the cup and poured the tea, his scowling expression softening as he enjoyed its fragrance. "This is a good surprise. Erwin put you up to this, didn't he? Tch." His heavy-lidded eyes narrowed further. "Cagey bastard. He probably wants these reports finished and on their way to him by sunrise. I don't know why he makes such a big damn deal over the paperwork. It's worthless, except maybe for wiping your ass." He blew and took a sip, making an approving noise as he did so. "Good. Thanks, Petra."

Her heart beat faster as the seconds ticked by. She rarely got to be alone with the captain, and almost never at night. Standing here now, watching him drink his tea, she couldn't help but trace his body with her eyes. She knew that men tended to lust after the way a woman looked, not the other way around, but… He was so damn, well… Could she call a man beautiful?

He was the shortest man she'd ever met, all of five foot three, barely an inch taller than she was. His jet black hair was shaved at the sides and a bit long near his face. His features, impossibly youthful, were also thin and delicate. She thought, out of nowhere, that he probably took after his mother, and that she must be a lovely woman. His body was so slender that one could be forgiven for wondering how he'd earned the title of Humanity's Strongest. Of course, Petra had seen the captain being stitched up in the medical tent a few times, and knew that every inch of his frame was compact, lean muscle.

She had only stolen glimpses. It would've been unprofessional to look longer. Tonight, though, she wanted to see more. She wanted to get closer, and…

How could she make that happen?

The captain had begun sorting out the papers on his desk, drinking his tea as he did so. He seemed to have forgotten she was there. The fantasies that'd played in her head of him ripping open her shirt and raining buttons to the floor before bending her over his desk seemed a far cry from happening.

He glanced up as Petra fiddled with what to say.

"Mmm?" The corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly—the closest he came to smiling.

"I…I can't sleep." She wanted to punch herself in the face. "Do you need help, captain?" Her eyes flicked to the floor. "With anything?"

Do you need me to take my clothes off?

What was wrong with her?

"Trust me, five minutes of that shit'll put you right out." He showed no emotion, but he said it pleasantly. At least, as pleasantly as he ever said anything. Petra knew it wasn't her imagination that the captain was rather kind to her. He was merciless when it came to training, of course, and had no issue barking orders at her in the middle of a maneuver. He didn't curb his language in her presence. Still, when he spoke to the team in private, he never ribbed her the way he did the other men. She didn't have a somewhat endearing, somewhat insulting nickname (Eld's "shitty hair bun" was everyone's favorite.) He'd never once raised his voice to her. Whenever she did anything for him, from brewing morning coffee to checking on everyone's harness straps for a possible malfunction, he thanked her warmly. He tried to keep her out of harm's way whenever possible, often sending her to tend the wounded on the battlefield, which would've been insulting if he didn't so frequently praise her talents in training. "Like that," he'd tell the others when she executed a spinning maneuver, a variation on his own technique. "Why can't you lumps do that? She's kicking your asses."

But she couldn't tell if he was a bit gentler with her because she was the only woman, or because she mattered at all to him.

"I don't mind." She got on her knees and began scooping up the fallen papers. She had to find a reason to stay in this room. She shuffled some forms, and her eyes landed on one of them. A few words leapt out at her: 57th expedition; 845; Wall Maria; shifter…

The captain ripped the pages out of her hands, his expression stony. Petra flinched.

"That's not your job." His voice wasn't unkind, but it was nearer than she'd ever heard it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, looking down. In his haste, he'd given her the thinnest paper cut on the side of her hand. One tiny drop of blood beaded there, and Petra felt…oh, damn everything. If she was about to cry, she might as well jump out the window. In a matter of minutes, this had gone from being the potentially most erotic night of her life to its exact opposite. She was hopeless. She had no talent for seduction; she'd likely die alone.

"Hey." The captain approached, but she kept her blurred gaze resolutely fixed on the ground. She dug her fingernails into her palms until she was sure she'd pierce the skin. She would not cry in front of him. But after everything that had happened today…every disappointment, every moment of doubt…she couldn't take any more. "What kind of an asshole snaps at the person who brews a perfect cup of tea?" He extended a hand to help her to her feet.

Petra bit her lip, took his hand, and stood. Just the touch of his skin sent her heartbeat into double time. She wanted to look at him, but the tears welled precariously. She didn't want them to spill.

He let go, and her heart sank.

"Fuck. You crying?" He sounded disturbed.

"No," she muttered, staring at his boots. He always kept them shined.

"No offense, Ral, but you're a piss-poor liar." He reached into his pocket and gave her a handkerchief. There was no hiding it, apparently, so she wiped her eyes and looked up at him. Being practically the same height, their gaze was level. She'd never been this close to him before. Her throat closed like a fist. What was she supposed to say?

"I… Thank you, sir. I'm sorry," she mumbled, dabbing at her cheeks. Hopeless. Worse than useless, that was her.

"You're probably just tired," he said. That sounded like a signal for her to go back to her room. No. She was hopeless, but she didn't want to give up. Not yet. Then, the captain looked out the window. "Surprised that walk with Oruo didn't take the edge off your energy."

Petra's mouth fell open. Did he sound interested in the answer?

"No, it didn't." She took a breath, and dared. "It made me sad."

His gaze snapped back, holding her in place.

"Sad? Why?"

Petra bit her bottom lip. She saw him notice.

"Because…I hate disappointing people," she breathed.

"Mmm," he said. Their gazes met, and Petra swore to herself she wouldn't be the first to look away. She didn't want to emerge from this dream. Nearly a full minute passed. The wind snuffed out a few candles, and gusted papers on the desk. Neither of them moved. "Why are you still here, Petra?" he asked in a low voice.

Was he going to do it? Was he going to lean in and…

Why didn't he do anything? He stood there, so damn still, and Petra continued to drink in every detail of him. The loosened cravat, which gave a glimpse of his pale throat; the comforting scent of soap and tea that surrounded him; the strands of black hair falling into his eyes. Her fingers itched to touch him, and her mouth burned to kiss him. She wanted, oh, she wanted him so badly that she could fall down with yearning.

"Because," she said, and stopped. The handkerchief was still tight in her grip. She proffered it, placing it into his hand.

Her thumb grazed the backs of his fingers.

Lightning licked up her spine, and she felt the hairs on the nape of her neck rise. The captain didn't move or look away as she kept touching him, running her thumb along the knuckle of his middle finger, rubbing a circle on his warm, dry skin. Petra's lips parted. Her eyes met his again, bold as brass. Apart from the slightest flare of his nostrils, he did not react in any way. He didn't pull back, and he didn't press forward.

Panic clamped her lower body; what was she doing? If he didn't make a move soon, she'd embarrass herself. She'd already embarrassed herself. Was he thinking of a way to put her off? Frozen with shock that his subordinate would do anything so brazen? Did she disgust him?

If she stopped now, she knew she'd never come near him again. She'd retreat to her room to cower beneath the blankets and dread the morning.

Resolution surged through her. It was somewhat like flying high into the air to look down at the nape of a titan's neck, blades firm in her grasp. It was that instant before the plunge, wind flapping her cloak, when she knew there was no going back. Do it, she'd think to herself, and in that moment she knew no fear.

She did it. Leaning forward, she kissed him.

Her lips pressed against his, and it was flying. It was fire. The merest touch and she was burning, burning, and her blood singing. Her heart stuttered, and she made a soft, overwhelmed noise. Her blood buzzed, and she felt ready to lift off the floor. All that after only one kiss, and he'd barely kissed back.

Petra broke away, her lips grazing his. Their breaths mingled, shared mint from their army-issued toothpaste. She kept her eyes closed, her knees trembling, every inch of her body quivering. More. Just a bit more. If she had that, she'd never want for anything again…

Levi growled, gripped her neck, and kissed her roughly back. His lips were warm from the tea. Petra gave a grunt of shock as their teeth clashed. Levi opened his mouth wider to let his tongue stroke hers. It was a bit clumsy, really, more clumsy than Oruo's, but the kiss still undid her. Petra thought of the melting wax from a lit candle: that was her, something solid dissolved into formlessness. Her arms wound around his neck while his hands gripped her waist. As her fingers teased the short hairs of his undercut, she could have cried from happiness. This time she didn't have to imagine that she was touching him. He was here. He was hers.

Levi grunted as she caught his lower lip between her teeth. She could have come from that one noise alone. Heat pooled in the center of her body, throbbed between her legs. Petra opened her eyes, the first time she'd wanted to look at a lover. Levi's own eyes were closed, a V of concentration formed between his brows. She kissed the V, his cheek, humming in appreciation when she heard how shaky his breath was. His fingers dug into her sides, but otherwise he remained motionless. That was fine, because she wanted to explore. Her lips feathered against his ear, his jaw. She kissed his chin, and his lips again, and again, and once more—

"Petra," he croaked. This time, he shoved her back, hands still firm on her waist. "Stop."

Her world seemed to shatter at that one word. She wavered as if he'd struck her in the stomach. That was all? One moment of euphoria, and then…nothing?

Nausea rocked her when she imagined Oruo in this kind of pain. Had she done this to him? Her chin quivered, and two tears streaked down her cheeks. If so, she deserved every ounce of this misery. The captain kept his eyes closed.

"This isn't a good idea," he said slowly.

"Because." She took a shuddering breath. "You don't want to?"

His eyes snapped open, a frenetic light kindling in them. "Fuck yes, I want to," he growled.

It was like getting a reprieve on a death sentence. Petra couldn't help but smile, even give a short laugh. She clapped her hands over her mouth, but Levi didn't look pleased. If anything, he appeared furious, though not, she suspected, with her.

"We can't," he said, glaring at her. "We can't, Petra. I'm not going to do this to you."

As if making love to him would be torture.

She swallowed. This was her cue to turn and flee, huddle in her bed and pray that he would change his mind. Hope that he'd enter her room, where she'd lie captive in his arms and he'd take her.

Instead, she heard herself say, "I want you to."

He paled as she spoke the words. "What?"

Petra stepped towards him. She felt like some otherworldy spirit had possessed her body, and was speaking through her. "I want you. I've wanted you since I first saw you." She took his hand and, cool as you like, placed that hand upon her breast and held it there. Her nipple hardened at once, and the captain's breath hitched. His jaw tightened, a vein feathering in his neck. He was holding himself back. "Captain." She breathed. "Levi. Please. Take me to bed."

Voice rough, he said, "I'm your commanding officer, for fuck's sake."

But he squeezed her breast almost imperceptibly.

"I know that," she replied, drawing nearer. Her eyes fluttered closed as she pressed against him to feel the firm outline of his erection. Lips brushing his, she whispered, "I don't care."

He didn't push her away as she trailed her hand down his body. Levi vibrated beneath her touch when she cupped him. Teeth gritted, he hissed out a breath as their gazes met and wrestled.

"Do you want me to go?" she whispered, and squeezed him.

"Petra." He bared his teeth. She quailed a bit; she'd never felt so alive. "Fucking. Damn it."

He crushed her against his body, his mouth hard on hers. She moaned, and he responded in kind. This time, he moved. He pulled her against him, his hand traveling to squeeze her ass, her thigh, his other hand twining in her hair and yanking her head back. She gasped in pained pleasure as he kissed her with cruel lips. She thrust her hips against his—she hadn't realized it was possible to be this wet. Petra cried out as he bared her neck and kissed down her throat. She pushed forward, and he staggered back. They ended up against his desk, knocking a sheaf of papers to the floor. Neither of them cared to pick up the mess. For Levi, that had to be a first.

Petra arched against him, wishing with everything she had that he'd strip her naked. She wanted him to throw her onto the bed and ride her. She wanted him to master her, to display his skill, to claim her for himself. When she fumbled for his belt, he caught her wrists.

"Listen to me." His breath fanned hot against her ear. He swallowed. "Fuck the regulations, Erwin, all the fucking rules. I don't give a shit about any of that." He paused, then muttered, "But I think you have the wrong expectations."

He sounded pained. Petra leaned back so she could look him in the eyes, puzzled. The wrong expectations?

"What do you mean?"

"I'm." He grunted, and looked to the ceiling. He scowled, as if something up there were pissing him off. "I can't fucking believe this," he hissed, and looked at her. "I haven't." He stopped, his jaw clenched.

He hadn't…what? Been in love? Had he only been with men before this? Had he never been…

Oh. Oh.

Petra blinked. He nodded once.

"Oh." She fished for her next word. "Never?" she murmured.

"Mmm." He looked back to the ceiling with a murderous expression, as if hurling silent profanities.

Petra tried to grasp the next step. She'd better say something. "How?" she asked, and flinched. You idiot! "I don't mean like that, I just… You're so confident, and powerful. You're handsome. So many women would…um…"

Levi ran a hand over his face. "It's not a very clean activity," he said at last. Petra bit her tongue because she had a feeling laughter might be the wrong response.

"Was it because you came from the underground?" Why, why, why was she still talking? And why bring that up? She didn't even know if the rumors were true. Levi crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk. Right now, it felt like any normal meeting between them, with him giving her cool, impartial orders. Oh no. The fire that had begun to spark between them was dangerously close to fizzling out. "I'm sorry," Petra murmured, casting her eyes to the floor. "It's your business."

A minute passed in silence. The wind rustled a few more pages, and Levi put his hand on them.

"You're sort of right," he said at last. He shuffled the pages in order, then placed his knife on top to weight them down. "See. It. I." His words jerked, and he stumbled. He'd never been especially verbose, but even for him this was painful. His mouth twisted to the side, and he said, "I spent the first few years of my life in a brothel."

"Oh." Her eyes widened. His mother had clearly been a prostitute, then. Petra felt a surge of indignation; what kind of woman raised a little child in such a place?

As if he could sense her thoughts, Levi's gray eyes flashed with cold warning. "My mother was a good woman. She did her best for me," he said.

Ashamed, Petra lowered her gaze and nodded. "Of course, sir."

"But." He sighed, sounding gentle again. "You can only shield a kid from so much, and I guess, I don't know, I lost my taste for it young." He readopted his casual stance against the desk, looking the picture of nonchalance. "And when I got older, everything down there was. Well."

"Dirty?" she guessed. He grunted in agreement. "So…" Her stomach sank as she spoke the words. "You're not interested in any of that?"

"I wasn't," he said. His cheek twitched, a hairline fracture in his stoic façade. "But these past couple years have been hard."

Her heart sped up. "Because of me?"

Levi snorted, his expression never shifting. "Look at you, acting like this is some damn prize. Yes, Petra. Because of you." The slight softness she'd seen vanished. He retreated to some hidden fortress within himself, safe behind the walls. "I have enough pride that I don't want to make a damn fool of myself. You think you want this, but it's all just a dream you made up. You think I'm going to be nice, or fuck you well?" His eyes were dead now, and he spoke as he sometimes did on military tribunals when he railed at the Military Police and the spoiled, soft people they protected. "I'm not nice. Never have been. And since I don't know what I'm doing, it'd probably be better if you took your fantasies out of here and saved us the trouble of disappointing each other."

She'd been about to protest what he was saying, but was he truly wrong? At fifteen, she'd thought him a charming man of refined character; he was not. Until a few moments ago, she'd thought he was a rapacious seducer, experienced with dozens of women; he certainly wasn't that, either. So what was he? Handsome, cranky, short, rude, blunt, fearless, unsure, angry, kind, decent, honest, humane…maybe the most humane person she'd ever known. He didn't risk his life every day for his own glory. He did it to save others from fear and death.

A few days earlier, he'd held a soldier's bloody hand and sworn to him that the man's death would spur him on, that he'd use it to destroy the titans once and for all. He'd given the soldier meaning in his final moments. Much as Levi hated to touch anything dirty, he'd never flinched from the blood. His voice had trembled with passion.

He was a man who would give everything he had for anyone who needed it.

Petra laughed, putting a hand to her mouth. Levi's eyes narrowed.

"I'm afraid to ask what's funny," he muttered.

"You." She stepped up to him, so that they were inches apart. He watched her with half-lidded eyes, as if daring her to impress him. "You're right. I've had many fantasies about you." If he'd been blunt, she could return the favor. "I've thought about you throwing me across your desk and taking me. I've pictured your tongue everywhere on my body, circling my breasts, driving me crazy between my legs." Her lips brushed his as she spoke. "I make myself come every night while I imagine fucking you."

His lips twitched. "Now you know how damn stupid that was," he muttered. His voice hitched once, but she heard it.

"But I was just thinking, wouldn't it be fun to teach you how to do all of that?"

"Teach me?" His voice was flat. "I think you've got our ranks mixed up, Ral."

"In training, you always take the lead because you know so much more than I do." She kissed him. He didn't reciprocate, but she could feel the tension in his body. "We can train in here, as well."

"You want a person who doesn't exist," he muttered.

"I like the person I see every day. I mean, sometimes you're rude, and you're a little too obsessed with cleaning. You could probably stand to curse less."

"If this is you seducing me, your method sucks."

"But you are the best man I have ever known," she whispered. He stopped cold at that. She kissed him once more, and this time she felt some give on his part. "It's not because of how strong you are. It's not because of how skilled you are, or, well, how skilled I thought you were." He grunted at that, but she'd gotten a reaction out of him. "It's because I've never known anyone else whose only concern is doing the right thing. You may act insensitive, but no one has ever cared like you do. And that," she whispered, kissing him once more, "makes me feel safe. And horny."

"Oh." His eyes were closed now. She could feel him straining, warring with something inside of himself. One last push…

"You're always taking care of us. All of us. Please." She brushed a hand through his hair, cupped the back of his neck. "Tonight, let me take care of you."

And that was it. He crushed her against him and kissed her, all but marching her backwards to the bed. When he looked at her now, she still saw fear and reserve, but something was sparking inside of him.

The man's supposed to be the match, but that wasn't true here. Petra was all fire, all wanting. She'd been waiting her entire life to ignite this man. It was a difficult task, and she relished it.

Petra undid his cravat with a few nimble movements. Daintily, she folded it up and placed it on the chair beside his bed, patting it for emphasis. Then, for the first time, Levi laughed. It was a short, choking kind of laugh, and he swallowed it almost immediately, but it had happened.

"You," he said, shaking his head. He pulled her to him, and finally, finally, she watched as his hands undid the buttons on her shirt. He worked fast, and focused. His concentration on the battlefield was overwhelming; she expected it'd be no different here. Petra held her breath as she slid her arms through the sleeves and stood before him in only her brassiere. While he watched, eyes widening, she unclasped herself. Seconds later, she was bare to him, her nipples beading in the night's chill. "Fuck," Levi said, simple yet honest. Petra nearly giggled when, transfixed, he still managed to fold her shirt and undergarment and place them on the chair. Levi caught her up in his arms, and she forgot to laugh, or think. He kissed her, his tongue stroking against hers, and she felt the faintest tremor as his hands cupped her breasts. Petra gave a small cry as he squeezed, his thumbs circling her nipples. That V furrowed between his brows again.

"Have you never seen a naked woman before?" she asked breathily. He tched.

"I know what this looks like," he grumped. He kissed her again, and murmured, "But I've never gotten this close."

With that, he kissed down her neck and chest, falling to his knees in front of her. Petra gasped as his mouth found her breast, his tongue flicking across her peak. She moaned, a rush of heat flooding through her body as he bit lightly and sucked at her, before transferring his attention to the other breast. Back and forth he went, while she stroked her hands through his black hair and smiled to find the few, faint threads of silver. Her knees began to give out from the pleasure, and they weren't even fully naked yet.

"I want to see you," she whispered. He rose to his feet, and this time she was the one to undress him. They were both quiet as she fumbled with the buttons. He took off the shirt, folding and placing it before coming back to her. Petra laid a hand on his chest, and realized the wild trammeling of his heart kept pace with her own.

What she'd seen in the medical tent hadn't been a trick of the light or her imagination. He was corded with muscle, his arms wiry and strong with it, his chest perfectly defined. She trailed her fingers along the ridges of his abdominal muscles; privately, she almost wished he had some softness, but she could probably provide that. Petra traced her fingers back up, touching the light dusting of hair across his chest. Levi tilted his head back. She kissed the juncture of his chin and throat, and tasted his pulse.

Petra twined her arms around him, running her palms up his back to his shoulders. He kissed her once, twice more, and held her tight. Their bodies were pressed together, her breasts pushed up against him. She didn't have to stand on her toes, and he didn't have to bend. She'd never known anything this intimate. Between her legs, she was heavy and sore with wanting.

Quietly, they shed their boots and socks, placed them beside the chair. Next came their pants. Petra made quick work of his belt, and he unbuttoned her with fast, clean movements. The imprints of their body harnesses still marked their skin in faint stripes. Petra knelt to kiss the mark at his side, and he huffed beneath the feel of her lips on that place. His fingers twined in her hair.

"One last thing," she whispered, rising. They removed their underwear, and seconds later were lying on the bed. Petra rested her palm on his hip, and he traced his own hand across her body. She rolled onto her back so he could work. Despite his calm exterior, the light of discovery was kindling in his eyes. Propped up on an elbow, Levi skated his touch from her breast to the swell of her hip, all the way down to her thigh. He paused for one second before trailing his fingers through the soft thatch of hair on her sex. Petra moaned at that faint touch. Levi's breath hitched. He brushed his hand up her stomach, and then back down. "Do you like me?" she whispered.

"Yeah. I like you." His breath came short as he cupped her there. He halted, not daring to go any further, eyes fixed on the hand resting between her thighs.

"It's all right." She kissed his cheek, and reached down to touch him in return.

His cock was erect and, to her delight, larger than she'd anticipated. She took him into her hand, and squeezed once. He shuddered, made a sound in the back of his throat. Petra's eyes locked with Levi's, and she watched his lips part as she began to stroke him. She cupped the sack, trailed her hand along his shaft, and brushed her fingers across the tip. He was wonderfully hard and soft at the same time, and she watched as a couple of clear drops of precum wept from the head, making it easier to pump him.

"Ah. Ah, shit," he whispered as she picked up the pace. He put a hand on her chest and pushed her backwards. "Slow. Slow." Then, staring into her eyes, he parted her with a finger, exhaling as he found her wet. "Tell me what you like," he whispered.

She did. At first, he pressed too hard and in the wrong place. She took him by the wrist and guided him to the perfect spot. "Rub gently," she whispered, and then moaned as he did just that. Levi kissed her temple, his lips brushing down to her cheek as he circled her clit faster and faster. At her urging, he slid a finger inside of her, and began to thrust. She swiveled her hips, biting her lip as he added a second finger, pressing his thumb against her clit in perfect synchronicity with his movements. He found a rhythm, and moaned as he went faster.

"You learn fast," she whispered. Then again, when it came to the physical, he was nothing short of a genius. No matter what challenge cropped up during training or a battle, he always moved with exquisite grace. He seemed to know exactly what to do with his body in any situation. Petra's legs stiffened. She'd left off pleasuring him as she focused on the orgasm building inside of her. She cried out as he rubbed her again and again. "Levi," she called.

"Is that good?" he whispered, taking her earlobe between his teeth.

"So good," she whimpered. He trailed kisses along her jaw and neck. That delicious pressure started building deep inside of her, and her body shook. She looked into his eyes while he worked. His jaw was still clenched, still tight. But there was a wildness building in his gaze, a desire to lose all control. That deep, throbbing sensation began inside of her, pinpointed in one minor spot and radiating outward, ready to detonate and drive her wild…

When she came, she called out for him and writhed beneath his hand. The pleasure washed over her, her muscles practically unspooling. The world shattered in white hot light. Petra thought of coming as that first latch of an ODM hook to an object, the instant when the harness jerked and her feet left the ground. She clenched and pulsated between her legs. Her entire body shivered, and her pelvis thrust several times against his hand. Finished, she lay there feeling utterly warm. Levi had kept working her while the orgasm crested. Now he took his hand away, staring at his slick fingers.

He didn't seem disgusted by it. That was a first, for sure. Petra grinned, and peeked up at him from amid her wild tumult of hair.

"Thank you for that," she murmured. She hoisted herself up onto an elbow, kissing him. He made a startled noise as she knocked him over, straddling his body. "Now I need to return the favor."

Levi tensed as she positioned herself above him, rubbing the head of his cock along her sex. He gripped her hips, digging his fingers into her soft flesh.

"Petra. Wait." His voice was tight, his eyes hard. "I can't get you pregnant."

"I've…I've done this before." She felt herself flush. "Trust me, I just need a little vinegar and a sponge. Don't worry." She leaned forward to kiss him once. "You can come in me."

"Petra." He said her name like a prayer.

"Ready?"

He tracked his eyes down her body once more, clenched his jaw, and nodded.

She took him deep inside of her.

Levi grabbed her thigh and squeezed. His other hand fisted the sheets, and his head rolled back. His face creased in a pained expression.

"Is it okay?" she whispered. Did it hurt when men lost their virginity, like it did women?

"Trying not to come," he said in a tight voice. Petra laughed. "Don't do that, either. The sound of your voice is enough to send me over the edge."

She waited, reaching out and brushing her fingers through his hair. Feeling him hard and ready inside of her, her legs straddling his hips, Petra could have cried with happiness. He opened his eyes, and nodded once. He was militarily efficient, as always. "All right. Move," he said.

She couldn't help but grin. "Is that an order, sir?"

"Don't get cute, Petra." The corner of his mouth twitched in that almost-smile of his. His hands moved up to fondle her breasts once more, and his face slackened. "You're fucking gorgeous," he rasped.

Those words from his lips were almost enough to make her peak again. Biting her lip, Petra shifted her body and began slow, rocking back and forth. His hands fell down to her hips, and she let him feel the rhythm she'd set. His breath came in short, sharp gasps as she began to fuck him harder. Petra tightened her thighs, leaning backwards a bit so she could ride him better. In the past she'd always hated this position, because it forced her to look at her partner and pretend to be engaged.

There was no pretending tonight. She was doing it, she realized, as the bed creaked beneath them and as his cock, which filled her perfectly, began to rub against that high, lonely spot inside of her. She was fucking him. Her captain, Levi, the man she'd wanted for so many years, was finally hers. As she bounced harder atop him, and as he dug his fingernails into her hips and the small of her back, Petra wanted to cry. It was joy and misery at the same time, joy for the obvious reasons, and misery because she never truly thought she'd get what she'd always craved, and it made her sad to remember. Not just him, but this feeling of weightless exhilaration. The closest she had come before tonight was flying through the air with ODM, the blue sky above and the world rushing away beneath her.

She had thought there was something wrong with her, but she just hadn't been with him yet. That was all. Because even though he was not masterful, this joining was everything she needed it to be.

The candlelight cast their shadows against the wall, rendering them large and oddly proportioned. Petra watched the great shadow of herself (a titan she thought ridiculously) as it warped, a grandiose impression of lovemaking.

She placed her hands on top of his while he squeezed her breasts, and stared into his eyes. Levi kept his mouth shut tight, though he breathed harshly through his nose. That ecstatic light sparked in his gray eyes, but he didn't let her see it register in his face. He was playing defensive, refusing to move in for the kill. Keeping himself protected. As Petra sat fully upright, taking his cock in all the way to the hilt and feeling him strike against her cervix, she began to gasp. Levi grunted as she rode him, his eyes widening as she whispered.

"I'm yours tonight." She let go of his hands and reached down to stroke her clit, already on the verge of another orgasm. His hands ghosted back to her hips, and she swirled her body again and again while rubbing herself. She began to pant with the effort, and her arousal. She rode him rough, and she thought of herself with her bright hair and him with his cold eyes, and she thought of fire and kindling, and she was trying so hard to get him to catch. "You can have whatever you want. I belong to you. Let go. Take me."

She never would've dreamed she could say things like that out loud and mean them, and not feel ashamed. She loved this. She loved sex. She loved it with him.

"Petra. I'm." He swallowed; cracks began to emerge in his impassive façade. "You don't. Know. Ah, fuck."

She stopped touching herself and fell forward, kissing him deeply with her arms cradled on either side of his head. She slowed her fucking as her breasts brushed against his chest. He returned the kiss, though there was some resistance.

"My body's yours," she said again, biting on his lower lip. She felt him shudder inside of her, and wondered if he'd come.

"You're mine," he whispered. It sounded guttural, almost animal. Petra gasped in shock and delight as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rolled her over, now lying on top of her. Levi pinned her, raising himself up on his elbows to stare into her eyes. The hesitation she'd seen earlier, and the reserve, had splintered. It was like throwing a rock at a window, and watching a myriad of cracks spiderwebbing outward, waiting for the moment the whole pane would collapse. Petra gazed up at him, and gasped when she felt his hand on her throat. He squeezed, just the tiniest pressure, but her nipples hardened from it. "Tell me something." He sounded bestial now. He even bared his teeth. "Did Bozad want this?"

Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks. The smallest, guiltiest part of her wanted to look away in shame. She hadn't meant to hurt Oruo, but that was the one ugly part of this evening.

"Yes," she whispered. Then her eyes widened and she cried out as he thrust into her as hard as he could. Petra wrapped her legs around Levi's waist as he thrust again, and again, grunting each time. It balanced on that impossible edge between pain and pleasure, and tears sprang into her eyes even as she moaned with delight.

"When you left with him, I wanted." He swallowed, his nostrils flaring. The stoic, reticent captain's mask had fallen away, and she glimpsed the monster that slept inside of him, the sight of which must've sent so many thugs in the underground markets running. The captain could destroy titans effortlessly in part because he was not quite human himself, and she'd unleashed that contained element. "I wanted…to tear his fucking head off," he growled, and began to fuck her. Hard.

"Ah. Ah." She stared up at the ceiling and squeezed her legs as he fell on top of her, his cheek resting against hers. The springs screamed beneath them, so loud she was certain everyone would wake up and hear. She felt like she wasn't fully in her own body any longer. She was a vessel for him. His breath was warm on her throat, and she felt his dry lips on her shoulder, and then the scrape of his teeth. Her eyes fluttered shut, a throbbing desire kindling between her legs as she felt him nip at her again. He was a wolf, the wolf at the door. She'd been half right about that. "Yes. Levi, please. Fuck me," she whimpered, gasping as he snarled in her ear and fucked harder, and harder. It hurt, and she wanted it to hurt. She didn't know how she'd keep herself from coming if this went on much longer.

"You're mine. Only me. Understand?" he panted. He sounded delirious, half out of his mind. She thought then of him living on the streets in the underground, snapping up food wherever he could get it. He'd have been starving, dirt under his fingernails as he clawed his way up and out of misery. He was taking her like she'd disappear if he didn't, like if he rolled off of her another man would snatch her from his bed.

"I'm only for you," she agreed, digging her fingernails into his shoulders. "No one else. I'm yours." Then she clawed at his flesh, raking him from his shoulders to the small of his back. Marking him as well, as hers.

Levi cried out in shock at that, and stilled. They breathed heavily, staring into one another's eyes. A thin layer of sweat shone on his lip and forehead, and Petra felt how slick she was across her chest. He pulled out suddenly and sat up on his knees. His cock was still erect and wet from her body. He hadn't come.

"Are you all right?" Petra propped up on her elbows, then gasped as he snatched her by the waist and yanked her up. She straddled him, and their noses touched as she felt him hard and ready at the entrance to her sex.

"Like this?" The monstrous fire still burned in his eyes, but some of that tenderness had returned. He leaned forward and kissed her between her breasts. She brushed her hand across the back of his head, felt the droplets of sweat.

"Yes," she murmured, wrapping her legs around him and easing him back inside of her. He looked up and, on eye level, on equal footing they began to ride each other.

His hips thrust, his cock filled her. She clamped down around him, keeping him inside as she rode. Her breasts bounced, and the wet slap of their bodies merged in harmony with the groans of the bed. Petra's lips parted. She stared deep into his eyes. The hunger, the rage, the desire was all there, but one last thing…one final moment…

One seemingly insurmountable hurdle remained.

There were no words left. As she wound her arms around his neck and fucked him, she let him read in her eyes that she would not go. That she'd wanted him for so long. That she hadn't just given him her body, but every invisible part of her as well. He could keep it, for as long as he wanted it. She watched his gaze soften in wonder as he read this in her eyes and face. His hand slipped down between them to rub her in that perfect spot, and her head fell back as she keened, the tips of her hair tickling her shoulders. The warmth, and the desire, and the joy, and the hunger all swept through her, lifting her up into the air, somewhere far above the highest point of the walls and into the bright sky beyond.

She shuddered and moaned as she came, her skin sparking fireworks. She unraveled around him, and cried for him. "Levi. It's so good. Oh," she gasped, feeling limp as she gazed back at him.

"Petra," he gritted. Then, the miracle happened. For one moment, he didn't appear stoic or furious. His forehead lifted, and so did his eyebrows. His shoulders hunched forward. His mouth fell open. "Ah. Ah!" he gasped. It was a lost sound, and breathless. He appeared so young now. So unburdened. His hips pinioned, and he surged within her, and she felt him come deep inside of her body as he gazed skyward and groaned his climax. She fell forward, breasts pressed against him, and kissed his neck. She tasted the salt of sweat on his skin. His arms wrapped around her, cradling her to his body. She pillowed her head against the slope of his shoulder, rocking back and forth as he softened inside of her. Her eyes fluttered closed. They breathed together.

Petra realized that whenever she saw him from now on, she'd know how he looked naked and disheveled. The face he made when he came, how big he was, how his fingers felt on her clit. Whenever he drilled her on the training grounds, or discussed a battle strategy, she'd have the taste of his sweat on her tongue. The mystery of him was erased. Reality had replaced it. She liked the real him so, so much more than the fantasy.

In a night full of them, that was the sweetest revelation of all.

"What are you thinking now?" she asked dreamily a minute later.

He sighed. "I need to clean up."

She snorted, giggling with abandon as she hugged him tighter.

"What?" He sounded cross. "I'm not joking."

"I know. That's why I'm laughing."

She kept chuckling as he broke from her, scowling in her face.

"Tch. Brat," he muttered, and disengaged while she fell onto her side and buried her face in the pillow to howl with glee. Petra looked up, laid out on her stomach with one foot bobbing in the air, as he staggered over to a washbasin by the cupboard. He poured some water and briskly scrubbed himself down with soap. She looked at the good width of his shoulders, the tapering waist, the frankly spectacular ass. Pleased, she folded her arms and propped her chin on them.

Levi splashed water, then shook like a dog before returning. Droplets stood out on his hair and eyelashes like diamonds. She scooted as he sat down, and his eyebrows lifted. Petra watched him school his features.

"You leaving?" He was trying to sound disinterested.

"No. I'm going to clean up, too." She padded over to the basin and wet a cloth, feeling his gaze on her. Did her body excite him the way his did her? She peeked over her shoulder, and found him eyeing her with that classic, unreadable expression of his. But the corner of his mouth tugged up, almost like a twitch. Yeah. He was happy. "Any regrets?" she asked.

He snorted. "Fuck no." Then, "You?"

She grinned. "I don't think I'll ever regret anything again."

He blinked. "Good philosophy," he said at last. She finished cleaning and walked back over, getting into bed beside him. It was a bit narrow for two, so she hooked her leg over his and draped her arm across his chest. Her nose tickled his cheek, and his hand lay on the small of her back, his fingers grazing the top of her ass. For a while, they basked in a companionable silence. "You gonna take care of the not getting pregnant thing?" He sounded concerned.

"Mmm. Like I said, I need some vinegar. As long as I do it in the next few hours, we'll be fine."

He breathed out in relief. Petra wondered if she should ask the question. Can we do this again? Do you want to do this again?

But she'd leave that until the morning, she decided. For tonight, she traced a finger up and down his chest, and he turned to touch his lips to her forehead.

"You." He swallowed, as if trying to unblock the words. "Fuck," he muttered. "You were. Um."

"Good? Spectacular?" She batted her lashes at him. "Worth waiting for?"

He stared into her eyes as intently as if he were concentrating on a difficult equation.

"Soft," he said at last. "And. Yeah. Everything else you said," he murmured, his voice husky. She smiled against him, knowing not to respond immediately. It'd only embarrass him. Petra wasn't sure if he'd ever allow himself a moment like that again, and she didn't want to scare this one away.

Whatever happened to her from this point on, for however long she lived, the indecision she'd been wracked with was gone. Sighing, she nestled against him. Levi's slow, steady breathing calmed her.

No matter what price I'd have to pay for this, it was worth it.

When Petra went to ask him a question, she lifted her head from the pillow and saw that his eyes had closed. He was dead asleep. Unlike before, when he'd worn that perennial scowl, now his face was relaxed. His lips were parted, his breathing even. His right hand lay across his stomach, and his chest rose and fell.

"Guess I shouldn't disturb you," she whispered, scooting down the bed. She rested her cheek against his chest, and smiled.

As a girl she'd had fantasies of castles, and of beings that changed from experienced beasts to courtly gentlemen. She'd dreamed of happy endings that remained permanent fixtures, like a painting on the wall. She was in a castle now—though it was broken down and dusty, its moat swarming with bugs and its courtyard bristling with weeds. The beast had been inexperienced, and the gentleman far less than courtly. This was not the end, and what came after would likely mix bitter with sweet.

But, Petra thought, luxuriating in the moment before she got up and attended to the business of reality, it had been a worthwhile tale all the same.