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Summary
Don't drink Hange's sex-water, Erwin, or your fantasies might come true.
Sex-pollen fic, old-school style with plenty of dorkiness, Levi/Erwin in that order.
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Bookmark Notes:
ateeeeee
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Bookmark Notes:
"prob. more pleasant than dying at least, Erwin scratched onto his paper. think I'm dying..."
Levi rolled his eyes at Erwin and then looked away with pointed slowness. He switched leg positions again, wincing as he did so. Erwin watched, fascinated, and wondered how deep Levi's affliction went. His belly shuddered and sent a chill of lust up his spine. It snapped one of the reins of control Erwin held over his brain, and more of the fantasy slipped out. But as long as he didn't act, he told himself, then imagination could surely do no harm?
In his imagination he might get up from his desk and walk over to Levi. He might touch his shoulder, squeeze it, feel the taut and compact muscle under his fingers. He might lean down and lick the sweat he could see sheening Levi's upper lip, and watch the way Levi's eyes went even more half-lidded. Perhaps Levi would run his nimble hands under Erwin's shirt, their coolness easing the awful, awful, frantic, burning ache that had taken over his body--
A squeaky sort of groan escaped the back of his throat. The sound cut through the scritching of Eren's pen and even the racket from outside the room, startling his brain out of its creative perversions. He realized Levi and Eren were both staring at him open-mouthed.
Erwin coughed and fumbled for the pen and paper on his desk, and he glanced at his watch and realized that only an hour or so had passed since this whole thing had begun. He was never going to make it--
--dying--Levi perched on the edge of the desk. He swiped his finger along the wooden top, then frowned at his fingertip.
"What?" Erwin whispered.
"'More pleasant than dying? Think I'm dying?'"
"What?" Erwin said, more loudly.
Levi tapped the paper with the messy notes written upon it. Heat flared in Erwin's cheeks, not only from lust. "That's ... nothing," he said, and crumpled the page up into a wad.
One of Levi's eyebrows rose. "Sure you're all right, Erwin?" he asked.
"I'm fine. I think the effects are getting better instead of worse," Erwin lied.
"Huh. But you're sweating. And you're breathing like a winded horse."
Erwin couldn't even laugh at the uncomplimentary comparison. "I'm not breathing at all," he admitted in a voice made rough by a mouth gone dry.