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Levi's naked back, bathed in the moonlight, was a sight Eren had longed for but never actually thought he would see.
The display of pale skin stretched over thick muscle, decorated with scars both fresh and old, fading lines and white tissue, was probably wasted on him now. Still, the mere thought of anyone else being privy to this sight had something hot and poisonous bubbling up in his chest, but the feeling dissipated when he thought of how much of a coward he was being.
Any suspected issues with touch that Levi might have had been debunked earlier that night – if anything, the man welcomed the slide of Eren's hands along his skin, and was more than eager to return the favor in kind. He had even asked Eren to wash his back for him afterwards, and then turned around with the flimsy excuse of making sure Eren cleaned up properly, too.
So why was he hesitating, now that everything had been said and done?
Eren reached out to Levi, his finger stopping just a breath from making contact with skin. He traced over the largest scar on Levi's skin, a horrible wound that stretched from his side to the small of his back, a scant few centimeters from the knob of his spine.
The brilliant color of his tan skin was washed out in the moonlight, casting it in stark contrast to the paleness of Levi's flesh.
Now that the heat of arousal had been sated, the doubt that had been lingering at the back of his mind was free to run rampant. What was he doing there, tucked under the sheets of Humanity's Strongest? A foolhardy soldier, a monster in human skin, a starry-eyed boy who had fought his way through crowds just to catch a glimpse of fluttering wings emblazoned upon green cloaks and a dark-haired man who carried the weight of humanity's survival on his shoulders—
"Still awake?"
Belatedly, Eren realized that Levi had turned around, squinting at him through sleep-heavy eyes. The shadows around his eyes were darker than ever, and yet Levi didn't seem as intimidating as he did during the day. Maybe it was because he was shirtless. Maybe it was the lack of a cravat.
"Oi, you better not be one of those freaks that sleep with their eyes open."
"Ah, no, sorry," Eren stammered. "I don't think I am. I mean— I'm sorry I woke you."
Levi stared at him intently for a few quiet moments. "You think too much."
Funny, considering he'd always been teased of doing the exact opposite. Eren opened his mouth to make a comment about it, but was cut off when Levi rolled him onto his other side.
Eren was as tense as a coiled spring when Levi's arms snaked around his waist as the man fit himself against Eren's back.
"You're too stiff. Thought I wore you out more than this," he heard Levi grumble into his ear, and the unexpected humor of it had him choking down on a bark of laughter and relaxing against the warm body spooning him.
"Better," Levi murmured, his voice already heavy with sleep again.
"Shouldn't I be the one doing this?" Eren asked softly, his hands tracing over the ones folded over his abdomen. "Since I'm taller."
"You were taking too long, so you've lost your big spoon privileges."
Eren's shoulders shook once in a silent chuckle, but Levi was already breathing evenly against his back. And maybe he had been thinking too much, after all, because Levi's arms were holding him close and Levi's nose was pressed against his nape and Levi's slow, steady breaths were starting to match his.