A new chapter is here, and it's so so very late! I'm sorry! Work has been more hectic than I anticipated, leaving me with very little time to write. Luckily my schedule will have a bit more room soon!
Thank you for the comments on the last chapter, they keep making me all giddy and squealing ^_^
A little warning on this chapter though, hrmm, there's a lot of introspection going on, but I felt it was necessary. Or should I say, Eren thought it was necessary, so blame him for making the chapter longer than usual! Still, I hope you will enjoy this chapter!
Also… pardon my French… *whistles and looks away innocently* (*= means there will be messy translations at the bottom!)
Summary: Eren gets a new talent, and also learns that Levi really enjoys talking about certain things.
Eren
There were a few things in life I considered I knew how to do pretty well.
Believe it or not, but I could cook. Not in like worth-Michelin-stars-cooking or anything, but I could handle the basics good enough. Just give me some ingredients, and I would whoop up a dish that would make you drool in a way that wasn't all too attractive. I blamed my laziness for not practicing my skills in the kitchen more often.
I could sleep like a log. When I was little, I could practically fall asleep anywhere. In the car. On the floor. In the cart when shopping for food. And when asleep, I was basically in a coma. You could jump me, hit me on the head, and scream stupid stuff in my ear –apparently Jean had done so in class several times- or really whatever you could think off. If I was low on sleep at the time, I would not wake until I did so on my own accord. It did create some problems to be honest. That was until one day when mom threatened to come in and wake me up with a kiss every morning before school. That very day I learned to either get in bed in time, or set an alarm, blaring out a mix of songs that I genuinely hated.
My third, as sometimes most important trait, was that when my friends were in trouble, I was the first one to step in and do whatever it took to get them out of there. Usually meaning me throwing a punch and get to the questioning later. Most times that worked out just fine since Mikasa was always there to save my ass, whether it was to lend me her over massive strength in the fight, or use it to drag me away.
During the last few days I came down with a new addition to my list of talents.
Running.
As in running away.
And that was what I was doing at that moment. Well, not in the literal sense since my level of fitness, and lack of energy left a lot to wish for, so you might say I had picked up from my usual ambling, my goal set on what had functioned as my retreat for the last few days.
The sunlight filtering through the foliage over my head made me wish I'd brought sunglasses, since the stinging rays kept hurting my sleep-swollen, blotched eyes. After choosing a few well-deserved curses for my own stupidity, I pulled my hood low over my forehead and sped up the pace, hurrying to escape the, in fact, perfectly nice weather.
With every step I took away from the house I could feel the tightness in my shoulders loosen, as if the distance itself allowed me to relax. Instead, the fatigue which had been kept at bay by the tension, threatened to take over and turn my limbs into jello, so it was with a wide yawn I struggled to keep awake the remaining distance to my goal.
After reaching the edge of the garden bordering on the surrounding forest I took a deep breath, filling my lungs deep with the earthy, slightly moist air. Across from me stood my lowly companion, proud and tall as ever.
"Hey buddy," I mumbled, reaching out to absently stroke the bark of the giant tree.
Yes, I greeted a tree. I didn't dwell on it. Much.
After climbing into the familiar hollow, I nestled myself down on the ground, a sigh of relief rushing through my lips. The chill creeping through my thick hoodie reminded me of how late it actually was in the year, the clear, blue sky being deceptive as it often was in October. With a tug, I pulled my hands into my sleeves in an effort to try and stay warm. Not even my seemingly warmer temperature helped much when deciding to use my hideout as a resting place.
Because that was exactly what it was.
It was the only place where I'd gotten some form of effective sleep during the last few days. So, in fact, while adding 'running' to my list of talents, 'sleep like a log' had been slightly altered.
I cringed at the thought of Mikasa knowing I spent my days huddled up, sleeping, inside a tree. I knew the expression, and exact color her face would take before she would resort to violence. With me being the victim.
But if she ever got to experience what I was going through, then maybe she would-
No, who was I kidding?
Mikasa would never run away like a scared little kid. She faced her troubles head on, like I used to do. That was a trait I used to be proud of to share with her. Now, I counted it as a talent fallen off my list.
I tilted my head back with a sigh, resting it against the curved inside of the trunk. Despite it not being a really good ability, meaning running away, I thought I was doing a pretty decent job at it. I hadn't seen-
The pressure of his hands, both forceful and gentle on my back.
I banged my head back in an attempt to get rid of the uninvited thought sprung in my mind, but I only accomplished to send another jolt of pain through my skull. Wincing, I reached back to knead the now sore spot.
Great. Now my head hurt on the outside as well.
The headache that had been eating at me since yesterday was a clear sign that the lack of sleep was pushing me into developing some sort of sleeping disorder, and slamming my head into a tree wasn't the smartest idea around, but what was I supposed to do when-
Cool, grey eyes, their edges narrowed thin, watching my every move. Stalking me, stripping me bare. Making me a quivering mess for more reasons than I could count.
For a moment I wished I could have a lobotomy done. Perhaps I could ask Hanji? I didn't think it would be too hard to convince her in the name of science. If I'd been mentally insane like a hundred years ago, then there wouldn't have been a question about it if anyone found out I was having these kinds of thoughts. Afterwards I wouldn't have to think at all. Especially not about-
His voice. Low in his throat, controlled, like the rest of his body. The voice that had the ability to form words that made my blood boil, and curl my name in a way that made me want to hear it again, and again.
I bit down on the muscle of my thumb, the sharp pain forcing away the shiver that threatened to overwhelm me. Numerous indents showed where my teeth had been, the skin now tender from performing the action several times.
Bastard.
Ever since that morning in the basement, my days, and nights, had been a living hell. For the first time in a year, my mind had been filled with something –someone– else than the constant fear of experiencing another attack. Now, I was desperate enough to have it all back.
Anything but whatever this was.
The fear had been a constant in my life, a horrible one, but still something that was stable, reliable. That very state had grained down on my emotions until they were near non-existent, to the point where I felt almost completely numb. I preferred that numbness over the current state of the continuous rollercoaster of emotions that swept through me every waking hour.
I even woke up at night, clinging to my sheets and out of breath, ravished by dreams I couldn't control. It was like he was constantly in my head, and the more I tried to push him away, the more he clawed his way back in.
When even the safety of my own walls started to come apart, closing in on me, making me feel trapped like I was back in the apartment, I thought about leaving Rose Hill altogether. Mikasa would come get me without me asking twice, since she hadn't been keen on me going here in the first place.
But I'd abandoned the idea before I'd even picked up the phone.
I was here for a reason. Even though I hadn't experienced an attack in about a week, I doubted they would stay gone simple as that. Stuff didn't work out like that.
Or could they?
I'd probed Hanji for answers, but even she hadn't been able to offer any explanation to their absence, just that sometimes a change of environment could have a positive effect on the brain. Then she had dwelled into details of the making of…serotonin…? And its connection to sunlight –or whatever– I had tuned out at the mention of neurons. After she'd come down from her high, she'd asked if there was perhaps something else on my mind, a curious glint apparent in her eyes.
A black-haired, tattooed sadist, my mind practically screamed, intent of making itself heard.
I didn't give into it.
Instead, I simply shrugged and said, 'Nope, nothing much'. By the looks of it, she'd picked up on the slight wavering of my voice, and with the wide grin spreading over her face, it was clear she hadn't bought my line. In an attempt to steer her away from analyzing my dodgy answer any deeper, I asked what the deal was with the supposed yoga-class. I tried hard not to blush when asking.
With eyes practically sparkling, she barked a laugh, and explained that she hadn't explicitly said there would be a class. Thinking back, she was actually right.
'Excellent teaching-methods'. My ass.
Seeing my less-than-happy expression, she flung out her notebook, pen in hand, and demanded details. I blurted something about an acute need to use the bathroom, and hearing an 'It's important to heed your bowel movements!' I left the office.
And that left me where I was. Hiding inside a tree. Totally feeling like a little brat.
One point to the sadist.
I scooted around to lean the side of my face against the trunk, careful not to get splinters onto my cheek.
I didn't want to be this person I'd become these last few days, a person who escaped his troubles. It wasn't who I was. I still saw myself as that person who ran in head-long into the fray, and dealt with the consequences later.
But this was different.
I didn't know what to do.
This wasn't a time when I could let my fists do the talking for me. And there wasn't anyone here to get me out of the mess either, no one to save me but myself. I fathomed leaving wouldn't solve my issue either, because honestly, I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to run from what was really eating at me.
Him.
It was the opposite really. I longed to see him again. To talk to him, to be around him. To experience whatever it was that kept pulling my thoughts to him.
And that was partly why I was running in the first place.
I breathed out a sigh of frustration. The other thing that was bothering me was my own reaction to this person. A person who repeatedly insulted me, and made me feel like I was five years old. Calling me names, and mocking me to the point where my face resembled a tomato. Why would I want to meet a person like that again?
Though, all those things wasn't truly the reason to why I was hiding.
I sagged down even more where I sat, feeling utterly defeated. I knew why. I knew why I couldn't sleep at night. Why I spent my days in a tree.
I was running from whatever he had woken in me since I first saw him.
He had made me feel again.
I don't know where in my little reverie I drifted off, but soon I was finally swept away by sleep.
I was far off in la la land when I felt my body moving, like someone was shaking me. Through my sleep-clogged head the idea sounded absurd, so I pushed it away, and sunk deeper back into unconsciousness.
Then, I was shook again, harder this time, and with a groan I tried to free myself of whatever it was that kept disturbing me. Needless to say, it only got worse, as I then was held firmly in place, something clamping down on my shoulders.
As if far away, I became aware of someone talking, and even though the sounds reaching my ears were muffled and distant, that was the one voice I couldn't ignore.
"Hey, wake up already."
I winced inwardly at the sharp tone. He didn't waste time asking nicely did he? Blunt as ever. I couldn't wrap my jumbled mind around to why he was being so rough with me, since he knew I was a heavy sleeper.
"Mgghh," I grumbled, trying to shift onto my side, vaguely puzzled over why my bed seemed to be made out of wood.
Had he moved me downstairs again?
The pressure on my shoulders hardened at my lack of actual words, so with an effort I tried coming up with something to let me sleep for a bit longer, "Not…yet, Heichou… I'm so sleepy."
"Heich-", he clipped himself off. "What are you talking about Eren?" he asked, confusion mingled with frustration in his voice.
At the sound of my name being uttered I couldn't resist the desire to see him, despite sleep trying to pull me under. Cracking one eye open I found him watching me, only inches away.
Mmm, I must still be sleeping, I mused, glancing drowsily around myself before looking back at him.
I think we were outside, in the woods somewhere, the rustling of leaves and crisp air swirling around us. Light shone around the outline of his sitting form, like he was blocking the view from me. Although, the view I was having was much better.
A lazy smile stretched over my face as I took in his fine, angular features, all of them which I sometimes thought I knew better than my own. The slight curve of his upper lip on the rare occasion that he allowed himself to smile. The subtle lines framing his cool greys, which could crinkle adorably, and momentarily take the burden off his shoulders.
An incredible warmth spread through me as I kept gazing, transfixed, on the man before me.
When reality, and the world within it, could be cruel, you appreciated when you got dreams like the one I was having. For a moment you were allowed a place where nothing awful could reach you, and you could do whatever you wished, and right then, I shared my place with the person closest to my heart.
His eyes widened a fraction when I reached out to brush away a strand of raven hair that had managed to escape his usually neat hair due. Tugging the unruly hair to the side, I noticed a faint blush cover his cheeks.
"I'm sorry," I mumbled, placing my hand on the side of his face, "I know you don't like it when I call you-"
Then, it was like someone dumped a bucket of ice-water over my head.
I wasn't in my bed.
And this…wasn't a dream.
I was hurled back to the present, staring unblinkingly at the person before me, suddenly wide awake. He sat down in a low crouch facing me, pinning me against the tree with his fingers gripped tight around my shoulders. The usually cool eyes now swam with a thousand questions, and I was shocked to see my own expression mirrored in his. While my own breathing being halted, I could feel his crossing the almost non-existent distance between us in small puffs to caress my skin.
And in the corner of my eye I caught sight of my hand.
Which was still placed gently on his cheek.
I let out a surprised yelp, flinging my hand back as if I'd burned myself.
Which, in a way, I had.
My elbow slammed hard into the wall behind me, reminding me that I was trapped between him and the tree. The air in the little hollow suddenly felt thick, sticking in my throat as I pulled down another breath into my lungs. I was painfully aware of his hands on me, and the fact that he hadn't moved an inch. He was still regarding me with that unreadable expression, and I couldn't fathom whether it was from the shock of me touching him or the fact that I had called him-
Hadn't it been a dream? For a second I thought he was… What had I called him? Why had I…? What-
My head seemed to rush through the questions faster than I could even think to answer them. Panic built up in my chest, my pulse thudding in my ears so loudly I was afraid he would be able to hear. With his godly scent reaching my nostrils I was close to losing it. I couldn't let him see me like this.
A small whine escaped my throat, and with that, realization flooded his eyes, making him practically leap backwards several steps. Standing a few feet away, he hurriedly brushed down on his sweatpants, as if he'd dirtied them, and muttered, "Hey, don't shit yourself, I just wanted to make sure you weren't dead or something. "
I just stared as he went from being wide-eyed with rosy cheeks –inches away– to leaning almost casually in the opening of the hollow, the perfect composure back in place, while I myself was on the verge on a panic-induced coma. With his arms folded over his chest, and regarding me with a blank stare, he made me feel even worse.
"I was just sleeping, that's all," I blurted, scrambling to get my sprawled limbs back in order. Even when sleeping in a tree, it seemed I kept my usual habit of sleeping like a monkey. Fitting really considering the circumstances.
A low tsk reached my ears, and I glanced back to find him scowling even more severely than usual. "You can't just sleep here, dumbass".
"Why not?" I asked, not understanding what he was getting at.
"It's not safe here," he said with a slight roll of his eyes, like it was obvious.
It was safe from the likes of you just moments ago, I thought, irritation making my eyebrows creep together.
Why had he of all people managed to catch me sleeping? It only added yet another thing for him to tease me for, and I was getting real tired of peeling myself off from the soles off his boots.
"You sound like my sister," I grumbled, easing myself off the ground, brushing away a few leaves caught on my pants.
He was quiet for a moment, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Sounds like your sister got the brains for the both of you then," he said, and I could literally hear how much that line amused him.
I fought the urge to let my fist rearrange his face, as I would probably get my ass handed to me in seconds without Mikasa present. But the idea was so tempting I had to put my hands in my back pockets, and take a deep breath to try and control myself. No. My hands would stay where they were. There would be no punching. And no touching.
Touching…
I bit my lip at the thought, a wave of heat rolling over me, threatening to color my cheeks in the distinctive shade I knew he was familiar with by now.
What had I been doing?
I glanced warily to find him watching me closely, like he was counting the seconds until I resembled a tomato.
To keep myself from further mortification I blurted the first thing that came to mind. "I'm not the one going around stalking people."
Something flashed in his eyes before they turned back to their icy stare, and he shifted onto his other leg, leaning heavily into the entrance.
His voice was collected as usual when he spoke, "I wasn't aware that you owned the place? As far as I know I'm allowed to go anywhere I like."
How he managed to twist my words around to not answering me was another trait I didn't appreciate. "You didn't answer my question," I snapped and took an involuntarily step forward to stare down at him.
He inclined his head to the side, one eyebrow raised marginally. "There was a question? I only heard an accusation."
"You know what I mean," I growled through gritted teeth, taking another step towards him.
"What's up with the attitude?"
"Don't you think it would be creepy to wake up to stare in some guy's face?"
"Levi"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again, with my eyebrows practically growing together at that point. Finally I managed a mumbled "Huh?"
He shifted where he stood, fingers clenched tight around his left bicep. "Instead of some guy, it's Levi," he said, his voice barely audible over the sudden gush of air which seemed to flow in to the little hollow.
My anger cooled down from painting-my-vision-red, to a dull reminder in the back of my head, and I just stared as he broke eye contact, pushing away from his leaning stance on the tree. He turned, stepping away from me, head moving fractionally from side to side as if observing the surroundings before he made his way to a nearby tree instead.
Levi.
I rolled the name around my mind, playing with the idea of it spilling out of my mouth. Which was exactly what would happen if I didn't control my tongue.
I didn't understand why, but I got the feeling he didn't go around giving his name to just anyone. Why he'd let me of all people in on it was beyond me. Especially when his behavior suggested he had some hidden agenda towards me, including humiliation and torment.
Maybe he gives his name to people who touches him, my mind offered, sounding smug.
Not. Going. There.
Ever.
I shot the thought down, and forced my attention back to him. Not that I needed any encouragement. My eyes seemed to automatically fasten on him where he stood facing the tree across from where I stood placed in the opening of the hollow. With my rapidly changing mood taking a turn for the better at the moment, I allowed myself to relax, as it surely would change soon again.
With his head inclined upwards, he was once again wearing the look of being a million miles away in thought. But you never knew with this guy. Even while risking being discovered, the bastard probably having a set of eyes on his neck, I took the opportunity to shamelessly let my eyes drift over him.
Didn't he own anything but workout clothes? Only the black, thick hoodie stood out from his usual attire of sweatpants, and what I believed would be a tank top underneath. I kind of wished he hadn't been wearing the hoodie so I could see his tattoos. Not that I blamed him for not wanting to freeze his balls of just so I could inspect his arms. Only to see the ink, I reminded myself.
The black markings had intrigued me since I first saw them, and I longed to see what they actually entailed. I'd never gotten around to get a tattoo myself, since the numerous visits to the hospital had left me terrified of pointy things, meaning needles.
I hoped to get the chance to see them more closely one day though. Preferably when he wasn't wearing as much clothing…
I scolded myself for the increasingly slipping thought, and stared down at the ground, following to grind a fallen leaf with my boot.
What was wrong with me? My thoughts were really getting out of control.
First. The dream –that happened not to be a dream– thank god he hadn't used that against me, yet, he probably just wanted to forget all about it anyway, and secondly, I was in the midst of having a full on ogling contest, with myself as the only participant.
I then realized something that honestly hadn't crossed my mind before, even though it should have.
He was a guy. I was ogling a guy.
Very perceptive of you smart-ass.
I didn't know if it was my own mind talking, or if I imagined him saying it. Probably both.
"Stop staring at my ass, and come here." His clipped tone brought me back blushing, and I involuntarily stumbled forward, my legs apparently dead set on following his command.
With a barely noticeable glance over his shoulder he turned to face me, nudging his head in the direction of the giant tree. The dark circles under his eyes was even more noticeable out in the sunlight, making him look like he hadn't slept in a week.
"What do you see?" he inquired, motioning to his left.
Following the movement I said, "Umm… a tree?" What was he getting at?
"Yes, genius, a tree."
The roll of his eyes reminded me I still bore a load of anger inside, despite me staring shamelessly at him a moment ago, but this time, I wasn't going to let my temper get the better of me. Especially when he probably just wanted to get a reaction out of me. Fucking sadist.
I cocked my head to the side, giving him what I wished was an unimpressed look, "So? What's your point?"
With eyes narrowed thin he said, "This," pointing at the large trunk, "is a big-ass tree, and not some god-damned hotel for brats to sleep in."
I tried to keep it in, I really did, but perhaps it was because of all the tension pent up inside for days that brought down my bodily reaction, because then I lost it. I truly lost it.
I heaved over with laughter spilling out of my mouth, mouth flapping wildly as I wrapped my arms around my stomach, leaving him standing with his finger still pointed at the trunk. I didn't care that I probably looked like I was having a seizure or whatever, because right then, laughing had never felt as good. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, and streamed down my cheeks, leaving them wet and blotched.
All because of a word coming out of his mouth.
He stared incredulously at me as I finally came down from my high, one eyebrow raised in question.
"What?" he demanded, folding his arms in the usual manner.
Using my sleeve as a momentary handkerchief, I wiped off the tears, and other body fluids, that had escaped my system during my fit. The action elicited a disgusted snarl from him, and with the way he eyed my sweater after I was done, I thought he wanted me to burn it.
With a wide grin still on my face, I stretched back up, feeling positively refreshed. Suddenly a bold thought crossed my mind, and with my current mood I couldn't resist following up on the idea.
"What's up with your vocabulary?" I mentally clapped myself on the back for remembering something from school, "I mean, with the way you look," motioning towards his baggy clothes, and naturally scowling expression, "I'm not surprised, but on the other hand I thought adults were supposed to have learned better words to use."
If he could throw insults, he better be prepared to take them.
As it happened, he took them pretty well.
A small smirk played at the corners of his mouth, making something in my stomach flutter.
Just a tiny bit.
"As a grown up, I have the choice to use what words I like, you little shits don't have the same option," he said, leaning back against the trunk of the tree.
"When I'm as old as you I'm just going to use fancy words, not like words like 'shit' that you seem to love."
"How eloquent of you," he said, quirking an eyebrow, "though, as it is, 'shit' is a perfect word. You can use it to describe people, as in little shits like you," giving me another smirk, "then, when you're actually taking a shit, you can describe it afterwards; that was a good long shit. You can say something is shitty, what shitty weather, shitty day, shitty brat."
I shook my head at him explaination, "You are seriously disgusting."
"Says the one with bacteria smeared all over his clothes," he said, the smirk falling off his face while eyeing my sleeves.
I grinned, and raised my arms towards him, "Its only snot, tears and drool."
Internally I marveled over the way he tried pressing himself backwards, only to find himself in the same position I'd been in earlier.
With that, I knew I'd finally learned something to tick him off.
One point for me.
And as it happened, our first proper discussion without arguing to the point of me storming off consisted of shit, and other body fluids. Great.
Later, while watching the blue sky paint itself with orange as dusk approached, laying curled up on the bed I'd finally dared to return to, I thought about how easy Levi actually was to talk to when I didn't want to punch him in the face. We had managed to avoid the subject about me touching him, and had fallen into a kind of comfortable and even fun conversation, albeit it revolving around disgusting stuff you generally didn't talk about.
How fitting.
As it was, he turned out to be kind of an oddball, and I found myself relaxing around him, the previous tension I'd experienced almost being gone. Almost.
I'd been aware of the proximity as we talked. The small signs that let me in on what he was feeling. The way he dug his fingers into his arms when he got troubled. The way his facial expression could disappear almost completely, and be replaced by the permanent scowl when I said something he thought was completely out of hand. The way his eyes squeezed thinner when he thought something was amusing. The way it made my stomach flip, reminding me of my heart, beating so very quickly in my chest. The pulse thudding in my ears when I caught myself wanting to reach out and touch him again.
The contact hadn't been enough. Not nearly enough. I found myself wanting more. Needing more. What that more entailed, I wasn't sure.
It wasn't just that he looked okay, he looked more than okay.
He was beautiful. Cheesy as fuck, I know, but that was the word I ended up with.
More than his good looks, it was the way he handled me. He didn't just take my words. He used them, turned them back against me, pressing me into expressing my thoughts in ways that rivaled the numerous shrinks I'd met recently.
The way he stirred the emotions kept at bay for so long. Not only the ones numbed for the time of my supposed illness, but in a way, like all of them had been buried inside, without me even noticing. Now they swirled, and swam around freely just below the surface. And I could pluck them out easily as breathing. I had never experienced anything like this, this kind of connection with another person.
It had only been a few days, but deep down I felt like I'd already known him for a lifetime, and that was why I didn't discard what I was feeling due to only being attraction.
I was falling for this person. No, that wasn't enough to describe it. I was racing head-long into this unknown territory, and honestly, I could care less about the consequences.
.
.
I was shoved hard against the polished wood of the sleek, black grand piano, making the keys wring out in a string of deafening chimes. The sharp edge dug into the back of my thighs, and the sudden pain made me stumble, stifling a muffled gasp of air.
That wasn't the only thing that made me gasp.
In a split-second he was on me. The flashing movement pushing me back, and down onto the keys again, which chime echoed in the candlelit room. With deft hands he tore at the silk clad buttons of my embroidered waistcoat, freeing every button with a fierce desire. For a second he paused, and rose up to brush his lips by my ear, and the hot breath of his mouth made me squeeze my eyes shut, relishing in the shivers traveling down my body.
"Je tiens à vous dévorer," he breathed, and bit softly at my earlobe, while continuing his onslaught with the buttons. My knees nearly buckled at his husky words, even though I didn't understand their meaning.
I gripped his flexed arms in an attempt to support myself, and through thick lashes I saw the light of the many candles in the room warm the color of his embellished coat to a deep red, making the tied white fabric around his neck stand out in sharp contrast. He'd bent his head down again, cursing as he worked on the buttons, and I couldn't resist the urge to let my finger travel along the thick fabric covering his shoulders, up towards his ear and stroke back a lock of raven hair, which had escaped the hair due he wore instead of a wig. I loved his constant refusal to wear one, as it allowed me to curl my fingers through his long black locks, and tease away the short string which held it together at the back of his neck, letting the hair pool down around his shoulders.
As I did, he let out a low growl of frustration and finally managed to get the silky fabric of my vest open. He didn't have any patience left for my equally buttoned shirt though, so he proceeded with simply ripping it open to expose my bare chest. When feeling his teasing breath hover over my sensitive skin, I let my hands fall from his hair to grip the edge of the piano.
After sliding his silky gloved hands up along my spine, he pulled me towards him and onto his hot mouth. He let his tongue trace teasingly slow patterns across my chest, leaving searing trails behind, and when nearing my right nipple I couldn't contain a pleasured moan.
"Vous êtes si bruyant," he breathed, a threat hidden in the husky tone.
Another whiny moan spilled through my parted lips as he slid his hands low on my back, dangerously close to the edge of my breeches. He knew what his hands did to me, and so, he continued letting them travel down the silky fabric to cup the now tender parts of my backside. I writhed beneath his touch and pushed myself towards him.
"Rivaille," I moaned, releasing my grip on the piano to run my fingers through his hair again.
He growled low and menacing in his throat, and snatched my hands away, pinning them back down onto the piano. While holding me in place, his hips pressed hard against mine, he started assaulting my flushed skin with his mouth and tongue again, stopping only for a heartbeat to reach and whisper darkly against my ear, "Je vais vous faire hurler soir."
.
.
I practically flew out of my bed, the husky voice still tingling in the back of my head. The rush of blood pounded in my ears, drowning out the sounds of my forced breathing.
What in the actual fuck was that?
Standing a few feet away on trembling legs, I shot an angry glare towards my bed, silently cursing its existence for making me dream like that. Because it was totally the bed's fault. Totally.
After a few minutes of pacing I settled down on the chair by the desk, mulling over what I'd just seen.
What had happened?
The graphic details, so livid and colorful in my head. The intimacy, and the way it made me feel. The way it made me flush all over. Literally all over. I squeezed my eyes shut to fling them back open instantly as the image of a raven-haired man wearing a long red coat crossed my mind. It had been…
…him.
And meaning him, I was confused over just who that person was.
When first seeing the person, the height and built of his body made me guess it was Levi –the idea of it wasn't too far-fetched when considering I was thinking about him constantly– but then, the feeling of it all had been familiar. It had been him. As in the person responsible for my attacks. The stranger.
The pattern of his touch was burned in my skin, like I knew it by instinct, and it was by instinct I knew it had been him. But then, why had I thought it was Levi?
I thought back to what happened earlier during the day, in that dream. Or rather, what I thought had been a dream. Despite it had clearly been Levi, that wasn't the name I'd called out.
What had it been? I wracked my brain for the answer that seemed to slip away when I tried searching for it.
…Heichou?
A sense of familiarity coming over me told me that was the one I'd searched for.
And what was up with this Rivaille? I fought back another shiver, the name feeling all too familiar on my tongue.
I stood up, legs trembling as I started pacing back and forth again. I couldn't understand any of it, no less why my dreams had decided on confusing me further with giving the stranger Levi's face.
Perhaps because he was the person occupying my mind most often?
Not wanting to delve into it in the middle of the night, and not feeling particularly sleepy anymore, I decided I needed a distraction. And naturally I came up with the best if ideas fitting for the time of the hour.
It was time to practice my skills.
After some time I found my way to the kitchen, set behind the grand dining room. It was huge, almost on the scale of a professional kitchen, looking like it stocked every imaginable tool you needed to make a three-course meal fit for royalty. I didn't hesitate on heading straight up to the fridge at take a look at what it had to offer. Hanji would probably be happy with me eating anyway.
"To keep my stamina up, right?" I mumbled to myself, stuffing my arms with eggs, fresh herbs and various things for making an omelet. Turning around I nearly dropped it all when I came face to face with Levi, sitting in a dark corner of the room.
"You need your stamina?" he mused, holding a cup of tea gingerly by his fingertips, and I would have commented on the weird why if I wasn't close to pissing myself right then.
"What the fuck Levi?" I growled, dumping the items down on the kitchen island before me.
He regarded me with a look I couldn't comprehend, the dark circles under his eyes more prominent than before. After taking another sip, he set the cup down on the counter next to him, and curled his lips into something bordering on a smile and a snarl, giving him a look I'd never seen before.
My breath caught in my throat as he fixed me with a long stare, his voice low and raw in his throat when he asked, "Who's Rivaille?"
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Translations
Je tiens à vous dévorer = I want to devour you
Vous êtes si bruyant = You are so noisy
Je vais vous faire hurler soir = I will make you scream tonight
Please, if I got any of these wrong, let me know so I can change them! (Google translate isn't the best tool out there…)