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The firmament is plumbeous and laden with the unshed tears of the man of reduced stature who portages the burden of humanity upon his paltry yet solid shoulders. Levi’s jet-black strands of silky-smooth hair are a whirl around his heavy skull. His modest feet trod the dark, arenaceous turf outside the dark Victorian construction—his slender digits quiver when his gray eyes meet the imposing, antiquated, richly sculpted wooden door—and he wishes dearly to have had the opportunity to arrive there looking immaculate. The opulent façade is concealed with verdant foliage. The ancient climbing vine that blooms in fragrant hues of sickly, pusillanimous flowers.
“Ah,” he breathes as the heavens erupt in a meek drizzle that penetrates his nostrils with the rich, inebriating scent of petrichor. He steps on the porch as the downpour commences, and the gigantic door is opened to allow him to enter the mansion. The lobby is lit dimly by fine, golden candelabra with hanging crystals that scatter diamonds of pale white light on the scarlet mahogany panels of the walls. The stark contrast of the crimson with the virginal white marble under his grimy boots. The emptiness of the luxurious entrance and the high ceilings leave him feeling more diminutive than he truly is, and his physical body leaves him feeling inadequate—more revolting and verminous than he is after another successful mission for him. The man whose immense body and imposing presence render him—the most fearsome mercenary of the century, whose mere mention evokes tremors and horror from those who chance upon hearing the name ‘Ackerman’—completely and utterly powerless, as if he were once again a sooty child eating scraps from the slimy cobbled alleys and quenching his thirst with the same heavenly showers that pelted against the magnificent glass of the sumptuous windows, draped in long, moss green velvet curtains.
That imponent, thrilling man shrouded in mystery and an inscrutable icy blue gaze of one who owns, who commands, who dominates and subjugates. Erwin Smith stepped on and squashed everything that crossed the tips of his sleek, black polished shoes.
And Levi is his righthand man. The greatest honor of all to a despicable mercenary like him.
The Ackerman everyone feared had been leashed and bound by that man who was the ethereal, translucent and soft breath of life that filled his lungs and the incandescent, acid pink poison that corroded his veins, his heart, and his soul – he was his gallant savior and his torturous executioner.
Levi quivers and takes off his filthy boots and his bloodied coat at once. The unsightly crimson of Erwin Smith’s enemies’ vital fluids are encrusted on his tremulous palms, tracing the lines of life and of death, blackening his fingernails. Barefoot and cold, he walks across the white marble floor, the black of his clothes and hair a reminder that he is misplaced there. That he does not deserve Erwin Smith’s presence after the heinous acts he has committed—in his name, certainly, but the man himself is impeccable, permanently impassive, and unperturbed.
Levi is calm only when he is the weapon he was born to be. The weapon he always has been. The refined artillery he became under his uncle’s supervision – the deadly, implacable sword he sharpened himself to be – infallible and with moves more precise than those of a machine.
As his cold, bare feet stepped on the luxurious carpet of the marble steps that led to the inescapable jaws of his pristine office where he awaited him – where his punishment patiently sat behind that impossibly heavy polished desk.
Levi had done what he’d been told to do and had not been caught. However, there had been a child with the mark and for that reason, he had hesitated. A fraction of a second had set off the mark’s security. Naturally every second counted, taking that the mark was a businessman of high status and great power, who had dared defy Erwin Smith—and with mellifluous words and diplomatic smiles Erwin Smith had allowed him to leave his residence. One month and a half. One month and a half had been the time he’d allowed him to remain alive before sending his ever so faithful and efficient guard dog after him.
It was not the first he failed to be perfect and was punished for it, and every time the thrill consumed him with fear, devotion, adoration, a desire to be nothing before him, the wish to atone.
Approaching Erwin Smith in the despicable, grimy state he was in was unacceptable. Levi glides swiftly across the hallway, making no noise, barely breathing—though he knows he’s being watched. The gaze is on his skin as he strips in the white bathroom he is allowed to use when he fails to complete a job without flaws. Levi stands naked in the bathroom and is hyperaware of his body. His skin prickles when he sees the camera in the corner above the bathtub—the only way to wash in that claustrophobic space. And his eyes glance for a fraction of a second in the camera’s direction, the icy cold air leaving him shivering.
Levi dares to glance at the camera and tenses when the disembodied, mellifluous voice fills the room, echoing against the walls and inside his guilty skull.
“Cold,” the voice says softly, “your muscles must be sore from walking for over 20 miles… but it’s what you deserve, is it not?”
Levi wouldn’t be able to talk back if he so wanted – which he doesn’t – so he nods and fills the bathtub with freezing water.
“Any sign of discomfort you show, will add to your much deserved punishment, you repugnant, incompetent dog,” the voice says – it smiles as it says it – and Levi closes his eyes as he dips his body slowly into the icy water and leans back. He doesn’t dare look in the camera’s direction again. “Wash yourself thoroughly – I am disgusted – look at you,” the hint of disgust is clearer than the water around him as he picks up the shampoo and grips it with a trembling hand, feeling impossibly cold, gritting his teeth, and closing his eyes – endure it, he must endure it. He misbehaved – he deserves that. And in the eventuality of him passing out, he deserves the death that would surely ensure – Erwin Smith would not save him – he would not touch his unsightly, grimy corpse. Levi’s thoughts are a spinning top of fear, repentance, and devotion – a hardened mass of frozen failure that Erwin Smith set off and is allowing to spin for as long as he pleases.
“You nearly exposed yourself,” Erwin’s voice echoes, impossibly gentle, “you put me in danger. Your hesitance put me in danger. I expect you to feel nothing but regret – though, of course, you have already defied me by daring to look at the camera knowing I would be seeing you – and I expect the water to be colder than the heart that beats in your chest,” he says, his voice clear. Levi puts his head under water to soak his hair. And he wants to leave it there – oh, he knows he wouldn’t pull back – and he leaves it there for over a minute before pulling it out with gritted teeth.
“Don’t ever repeat what you just did, you despicable coward,” Erwin’s voice fills his ears as the water drips out. The suds of the shampoo that Levi lathers his hair with, aggressively drip, drip, drip into the water and he keeps eyes on them, watching them float like slabs of white ice on the icy arctic water, “your life belongs to me, Ackerman,” he says, and the previously calm voice is now overflowing with rage, “I gave you a life. I’m the only one who can take it.”
Levi bites his lower lip and dips his washed hair in the water again to get rid of the soap. Erwin Smith would. That fearsome, immense man would not soil his pristine hands saving a dog, but Levi knows he would make an exception to get rid of one.
“I gave you shelter, I feed you and care for you, I let you in my bed,” Erwin Smith enumerates. Levi’s hands quiver, feebler and weaker than blades of grass that Erwin Smith is squashing with his once again maddeningly sweet tone, “I take you in my arms. I trust you my life,” he says and pauses to let Levi remember whose life is more important – whose life comes before his, whose life gives meaning to his – and he pierces the bar of soap with his fingernails, scrubbing and scrubbing at the encrusted black blood under his fingernails, “and your pathetic soft heart decided that the irrelevant life of a miserable child was more important than that of the one who generously cares for you – the one who loves you.”
Levi scrubs at his skin with the soap, ensuring that he cleans every inch of his body with it.
Love. That is his weakness. Love. Love. Love. Erwin Smith loves him – he whispers the words into his ear as he ravishes him, pressing his cheek against his shoulder blade and biting his unworthy skin – he loves him. Levi does not doubt his love. That love grounds him, grants him a purpose in life, overwhelms him with pride. Erwin Smith loves him.
“And it is because I love you so, that I must punish you for not loving me in the same way I love you… Levi,” he says, the hurt in his voice piercing through Levi’s heart like a dagger as he stops and looks up at the camera. Erwin Smith only calls his name when he’s pleased with him and when he loves him – yet he is not pleased with him. And still calls his name. “I told you,” the voice tone shifts and Levi looks up again as the warm water slides down his pale cheeks, “if you show signs of discomfort, that will add to your punishment, you unfaithful dog,” he says, “that referred to pathetic tears as well. Repulsive. Empty the bathtub.”
Levi finishes washing with trembling hands, emptying the tub, feeling lightheaded but not showing it.
“Stay where you are and clean yourself properly,” Erwin Smith’s voice snaps, “spread your legs wide and clean the only part of you that is worth anything to me right now. And brush your teeth after you get out of there.”
Levi reaches his hand to the douche after spreading his legs and turning on the warm water for that purpose – he must clean his hole for Erwin Smith to use if that is his desire. Levi feels honored that he still wants to use him despite his unforgivable misdemeanor – after he failed to love him as much as he is loved.
“Very good,” Erwin Smith’s voice echoes, “you may leave the bathtub now.”
Levi does and forces himself to stay upright. He must brush his teeth thoroughly – though he doubts that he will be granted the privilege of a kiss, he knows why his mouth must be clean.
“Dry yourself, but do not get dressed,” Erwin Smith’s deep voice commands and Levi nods. The toothbrush clangs against the washbasin and he spits out blood from scrubbing too hard. Catching a glimpse of his body in the mirror, he sees it red and trembling, the muscles tense and the hands abraded from the violence he inflicted upon them when he cleaned himself. “Now, you may come to me.”
And he obeys, walking naked and barefoot across the hallway, freezing and quivering, cold and scared until he reaches the door and knocks quietly.
“Enter and close the door behind you.”
Obeying is what he does best. He does not move an inch from the door. He closes it with a soft thud. And he stands there—awaiting his punishment in sepulchral silence, his eyes fixed on the floor, stiff as a statue, in the vulnerability of his nakedness, his brain still the spinning top controlled by that man, hyperaware of himself and his senses, feeling sick yet not letting the immense man he hears move from behind his desk and walk towards him see how frightened he is. Erwin Smith towers over him—a giant in every way—and Levi feels the warmth radiating from his body. And he craves it, but he does not deserve it and he cannot have it unless Erwin Smith allows him.
“Look at you, so pathetic,” the voice is quiet, soft, unbearably gentle. Levi doesn’t look up, “so weak and scared.” Levi doesn’t look up and Erwin Smith’s voice turns icy cold. “Look me in the eyes when I speak to you.”
Levi shivers and does. He looks all the way up – his meager stature shrivelling before the ever-dominating, ruthless man before him – who looks at him with coruscating anger flickering in the blue.
There is no time before the first open palm slap connects with his left cheek, full force, making him stagger but not do anything but bite down and keep looking at him – he did not tell him to look away. Levi recomposes himself and offers him his other cheek, the red heat of the left one almost sweet, almost comfortable in the cold of his nakedness.
“You defy me,” Erwin Smith says and grips him by the chin, pulling him up aggressively and looking him in the eyes, furious, “should I, perhaps, have hit you harder?”
Levi gulps, breathless, not daring to reach his hands to find footing—but he nods. Erwin Smith smiles, the pearly white of his livid smile, contrasting starkly with the flickering azure of his eyes and his turtleneck of the same color.
Erwin Smith yanks Levi – who couldn’t struggle if he wanted – by the chin that he clutches in a vice-like grip and throws him bodily against the desk. Levi suppresses a groan when his stomach hits the hardwood and he reaches his hands over the desk for support, gritting his teeth, cold and in agonizing pain. His muscles twitch – strained from the walk Erwin Smith forced him to take after the mistake that almost exposed him – the mistake that made Erwin Smith believe that his love was one-sided – a misunderstanding Levi needs to atone for by letting Erwin Smith punish him. By showing him the extent of his love.
Erwin Smith circles the table and opens a drawer. It’s not the first time he whips him, but it is the first time he has a dildo – a black one. Levi doesn’t see lubricant anywhere and he figures he deserves that – he deserves the pain. Levi hears the familiar sound of Erwin taking off his black leather belt from his pants. Certainly, he could leave, go out in the pouring rain, run away in the damp earth no longer smelling of petrichor but of mud and fear – yet he chooses to stay. That is how he will bare his true love for that man, that is how he will atone for his betrayal.
“I do not want to hear a sound, you ungrateful, puny, miserable dog. This is the punishment you deserve,” Erwin Smith says. Levi bites down when the belt sings and connects with his ass. It stings impossibly but he doesn’t utter a sound. Not a breath. And he’s cold but the punished skin warms up when the leather connects with it again, and again, and again, relentlessly, merciless.
“Does it hurt?”
Levi does not reply.
“I asked you a question. Answer it.” Erwin Smith booms and whips him extra hard, this time on the small of his back.
All answers to it were wrong. “No.”
“No, what?” Another lashing on his back. Levi grits his teeth, his mind going blank in the excruciating pain. But he doesn’t wince, or cry out, or beg for mercy – he takes what he deserves for failing to give back the love he’s given by that powerful man who took him into his home and gave him affection he didn’t deserve and dignity in an undignified job.
“No, sir.”
“You deserve this, don’t you?” Another hard lashing down his back. The metal connects with his skin and splits it open. Levi feels the blood slide down his skin, hot like molten lava, miserable, slow, sorrowful, deserved. He doesn’t utter a single sign that he is in pain.
“Yes, sir,” Levi replies when the belt connects with his ass again, and again, and again. And Levi feels his legs being spread apart and his ass cheeks being pulled apart. The pain of the dildo that is rammed harshly into his body without lubrication makes his knees buckle, but he doesn’t wince. Not then, not when Erwin Smith moves it in and out of the dryness of his tight hole. The pain is lacerating, and he doesn’t know if he bleeds or not because suddenly it’s over and the object is thrown onto the desk.
“Is that enough?”
“No, sir.”
Erwin Smith feels angry behind him, and Levi’s mind is spinning, foggy, blank and he feels like he isn’t there, but he is there – the pain yanks him away from reality, but it also strands him. Erwin Smith puts the belt around his neck and tightens it. Levi’s entire body is pulled back onto him and he gasps, unable to breathe, his tongue falling out of his mouth as his body struggles as he is strangled, his feet dangling above the ground, his body reacting outside of his control.
“I should kill you,” Erwin Smith whispers in his ear, gently, smiling as he strangles him with the belt and Levi’s hands move alongside his body while he can still think, “look at your pathetic body, getting aroused by this. You’re disgusting,” he says and Levi’s brain, lacking oxygen begins to fail and he feels himself drift into unconsciousness before he is gracelessly dumped on the carpet, hitting his head on the desk on the way down and falling half-conscious on the rug, on his side, his limbs limp. Feebly gasping for air, he feels the warmth of blood on his eyelashes.
A foot touches the small of his bruising back and he jolts. “Hm,” Erwin Smith utters, “I didn’t expect you to have died, but you never know.”
And at last, as the air returns to his brain, and with a face awash in his own blood, Levi forces himself to lay on his back as he looks up at the man standing tall, towering immense above him and tears erupt bitter and hot from his gray eyes, his lips trembling.
“I love you,” he whispers, placing his quivering hands over his heart, “I’m sorry… I love you.”
Erwin Smith looks at him in silence, his expression inscrutable and then, finally, at long last he kneels beside him and smiles—the sweet smile he offers him when he’s pleased with him—and he takes him into his arms, lifting him from the floor and carrying him. Levi leans against his chest, his tears soaking his turtleneck, and lets Erwin Smith take him wherever he wants.
His bedroom. Levi earned the right to the bedroom. Sitting on the bed, he waits as Erwin gets something from the drawer. Levi notices that it is disinfectant and band-aids and he sits beside them and tends to the wound on his forehead first.
“Look at what you make me do to you,” Erwin Smith says softly as he cleans his wound, “it hurts me to do this. It hurts me so much more than it hurts you. Do you understand how much it hurts me, Levi?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You don’t have to call me sir, darling. I love you, remember?” Erwin Smith says and caresses his abused cheek after covering his forehead wound with a band-aid.
“Yes.”
“And you know this hurts me more than it hurts you, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Erwin Smith cleans the wound on Levi’s back and covers it too before holding his shoulder. “Because I love you,” he says in a soft whisper near his ear.
“Yes.”
“More than you love me…” Erwin Smith adds and Levi nods, “and it hurts me to know you don’t feel the same sometimes… maybe I frighten you. Is that the case, my beloved?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Levi nods.
“Say it, then,” Erwin Smith says, smiling near his ear.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“And why is that?”
Levi is too overwhelmed with pain and exhaustion and sorrow to know what to respond. “Because I’m more dangerous than you are,” he whispers the truth.
“Correct answer,” Erwin Smith says and holds him from behind. It hurts against his abraded skin, but Levi doesn’t complain. There isn’t an inch of his body that isn’t in pain, and that hug feels like medicine. The cure for his heartache—the reward for his willingness to atone, to give back to the man who’d pulled him out of a life of petty murder for a meager pay.
“Sweetest Levi,” Erwin Smith says when he helps Levi lay on the bed and starts taking off his clothes before laying beside Levi with a bottle of lube, “you’ve earned this.”
“Thank you…” Levi whispers, dazed, “do you want me to suck you off?”
Erwin Smith looks at him in the misty light of the room and Levi wonders if he said something wrong. “Do you want that?”
Levi doesn’t have wants – his wants are Erwin Smith’s wants. “If you want me to.”
Erwin Smith caresses his cheek and looks hurt. “Why don’t you take the initiative?”
The scoff that escapes Levi’s lips is dangerous and out of his control. When attack dogs like him take the initiative, they get put down. But maybe, or rather, Levi is a crazy dog. “I want to.”
“You make me happy,” Erwin Smith says and smiles when Levi slowly moves to be on top and motions his body down so that his face is near Erwin Smith’s half-hard cock. He takes a deep breath of the familiar smell before licking his lips and, covering his teeth after hollowing out his cheeks, he relaxes his jaw and holds himself in place with trembling hands on each side of Erwin Smith’s thighs, feeling the big hands on his hair. Not pulling, no, he gently caresses his black hair, and softly sighs, moving slightly as Levi deepthroats him without gagging – something he had to learn how to do because Erwin didn’t like the sound of him gagging – and hears a soft hum before feeling two hands pulling his head up with a soft pop. Levi looks at him with half-hooded eyes and reddened, aching cheeks.
“That’s enough, my love. Come to me,” Erwin Smith beckons but he is the own who pulls him up. Levi gasps softly when he’s allowed to rest his then warm body on top of Erwin Smith's hot one and is kissed chastely, tenderly, lovingly on the lips. Did he deserve that? “You are mine and I love you dearly. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Levi says.
“You know it would hurt me more than anything to be forced to kill you, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Levi says and sniffles, “but I would let you,” he whispers.
“No, no, my dear Levi,” Erwin Smith hushes and kisses him again. “I know you would. I know you love me now. I know, sweetheart, I do,” he promises and Levi sniffles, trembling, nodding, wanting comfort but being too wary to seek it. He doesn’t know if he has been forgiven. He doesn’t know if his penance was enough. He doesn’t know if he’s earned Erwin Smith’s trust and respect once more. What he fears is not him—what he fears is Erwin Smith not believing his love is true. After five years of proving to him over and over and over again that he does love him, after being tamed and molded into a shape Erwin Smith could love, he wants him to know—he needs him to know—that his love is the purest, that he belongs to him, heart, body, and soul—that he can use him as he pleases. If Erwin Smith wants to punish him for misbehaving, so be it. If he deems him worthy of affection, so be it. Levi will receive anything that man gives him—the man who gave him a home to return to, who let him be his righthand man, the powerful businessman who entrusted him with his own safety.
Erwin Smith manhandles him and lays him flat on his stomach, spreading his ass cheeks and coating his fingers with lubricant that he spreads generously around his hole and slowly presses into him. Levi doesn’t make any sound and bites down, clasping the bed sheets. “My beloved, if you are enjoying yourself, you may be vocal. It would give me the most pleasure to know you are enjoying yourself—you have earned it. I am no longer displeased with you,” Erwin says and Levi hears the sound of him rubbing his hard cock with lubricant before he lies on top of him and holds him around the torso, kissing his shoulder blade, “your smells is delicious, darling,” he whispers as he slides his cock into Levi’s tight hole. Levi moans quietly, almost a whimper, “I love you.”
Levi feels his eyes wet and moans, lifting his ass for better ass as Erwin pounds his hard cock into him, hard and rhythmic, deep, hot, so hot, so comforting, so generous. Levi feels impossibly warm, and moans, his cheek pressed against the mattress, and Erwin Smith kisses his shoulder and his neck as he pistons hard in and out of him, the bed moving below them. Levi is hard and the friction against the bed helps him come after he feels Erwin’s hot seed inside his hole, spilling out and sliding down his legs.
“Perfect as usual,” Erwin Smith says quietly as he pulls away and Levi feels a smile on his own face, tired, wanting to clean up, but Erwin Smith cleans up after them with a damp towel. “You need food.”
Levi shakes his head, but Erwin Smith frowns. “You need food, Levi.”
And Levi knows he does, but he doesn’t want to be a burden, yet he doesn’t say anything and lays there alone for what feels like too long and no time at all, drifting in and out of a hazy slumber. Erwin Smith returns with a glass of warm milk and a ham sandwich.
“Eat.”
Levi coughs a little as he sits down. He is marked and wounded, his neck is sore, his back is sore, his ass feels swollen and is hurt from the lashings, but he forces himself to obey, coughing lightly.
“I will sleep with you, my dear,” Erwin Smith states and takes the glass away from Levi’s hands when he’s done with the food. “I do not wish anything bad to happen to you. I would never hurt you, you know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Levi says, in a hazy, unsure, and Erwin Smith pulls him into a tender, loving embrace, relinquishing him the comfort he so dearly craved.
Maybe, deep down, he doesn’t want to be hurt, maybe he does – why else would he defy Erwin Smith when he’s displeased with him? – he doesn’t know. He is confused. The only certainty is that Erwin Smith loves him truly, madly, deeply. Perhaps what Levi Ackerman wants is to be so perfect that Erwin Smith doesn’t feel the need to punish him – that he doesn’t have reasons to doubt his love and devotion. That’s what he wants – he wants to be a good dog, and he wants to be deserving of that man’s unquestionable love.