It’s not even an exaggeration when I say Seventeen wouldn’t exist without you because Seventeen sounds the way it does because of you. Thank you for using your God-given musical talents to give us songs that entertain and comfort. Thank you for your hard work, all those sleepless nights. Thank you for pouring your passion, your soul and emotions into the melodies and lyrics you beautifully craft. For you whose personality and charm is significantly larger than your small stature (which we love nonetheless), I only seem to hold praise. We admire your sharp intellect, your voice, your large heart. I can’t even say that you are lucky for having made it this big because you earned it. It was all deserved, and we only see greater things for you ahead. Have a wonderful birthday.
levi has a black fleece that he wears between the months of september and may. the fabric is pilled and the elbows worn a bit thin. there’s a cigarette burn melted along the hem, and a matted piece of fabric on his chest from when some super glue dripped on it from an ancient ornament repair. it’s nearly another layer of his skin, and it’s often a topic of discussion.
“are you cold, darling?” erwin asks as they take their place on the couch, glasses of dark wine half filled and perched on their thighs. erwin wraps his arm around the back of the couch across levi’s shoulders, dropping it on his shoulder and drawing him close.
levi takes a sip of wine and shrugs. “i’m fine.”
“i can turn up the heat.” the smile and chuckle roil in his chest, and he brings his glass to his lips with a single swirl of his hand before taking a drink.
the black fleece finds its home on the bedroom floor two glasses of wine later. it’s hidden below his jeans that are frayed at the heels and his black t-shirt that’s wearing holes in the armpits. the only article of clothing from erwin that accompanies the pile is his silk coral tie–bought on sale for $79.99.
levi pulls down erwin by the front of his burberry dress shirt, peeling one button free at a time as he licks a trail up the tendon of his neck. levi always says he likes it like this–naked under erwin, feeling the softness of erwin’s expensive slacks against the back of his calves. staining the belly of erwin’s shirt with the wetness from the tip of his cock.
he never stays the night, even though erwin always asks. levi is weak kneed and drowsy, a little tipsy and giddy, when he leaves through erwin’s door. they kiss with sore lips, and levi counts the steps from erwin’s apartment to the stairwell, counts to thirteen as he hits the bottom stair. he brings the cuff of his sweater to his nose, breathes in the citrus and sandalwood that coats everything in erwin’s apartment, and breathes it out like a cigarette.
it sobers him enough to make it home, but even though erwin had wrung him dry, he still finds his hand working its way into his pants, around his cock, and coming painfully in his hand as he smells erwin all over him.
he visits again the next night, bags of groceries in his hands. erwin turns the heat up to eighty, and levi still refuses to remove the sweater even as erwin’s shirt is damp in sweat. he goes home that night smelling like saffron and oranges and musk, and he touches himself so feverishly that he stains his fleece with splotches of himself.
“is this new?” erwin says two days later. he pulls at the collar of levi’s long sleeved button up, pulls him up to capture his lips with a fleeting teasing peck.
levi feels the heat in his cheeks, but he’s almost positive that erwin has kicked the heat up again. “no.”
the shirt ends up on the headboard, levi’s hands holding white knuckled to the edge as erwin claims every naked part of his body. he cries out as he orgasms, fidgets against erwin who pulls him against his bare chest and holds him in an embrace. levi moves to get dressed, but erwin steadies his hand onto the bed. “stay.”
levi grumbles, succeeds against erwin’s strength and pulls down his shirt. instinctively, he brings it to his nose and sniffs quietly, but it doesn’t smell right. it smells like his apartment, and the comforting idea of bringing erwin home with him is shattered.
“what’s wrong, levi?”
he sniffs again, and it smells like chai and lemon, and he sighs. “nothing.”
erwin squeezes levi closer to him, kisses the nape of his neck, “please stay.”
levi closes his eyes, his heart caught somewhere in his throat by anxiety, that he can’t allow himself to get so attached to this man even though they had been dating for almost half a year. bringing him home on his clothes was one thing–he was never without erwin even when they were apart. but now he would be, and…
“ok.” he says. it barely passes his lips–an utter like a wheeze, but erwin hears it. he holds him close and presses his smile to the side of his cheek. it takes a few more minutes of letting erwin melt around him like a cooling ice cube for him to rest his eyes. it takes until erwin is softly snoring in his ear for his mind to calm enough to let him drift into a half sleep.
and when he shifts his head into his pillow and smells the lemons and sandalwood and the hint of pine, he shifts into a comfortable sleep he wishes he had fallen into sooner.
Anger management is sooo hard to do. I swear to god, I had to literally bite my lips today because I was about to snap about a very simple thing. I am trying very very hard but good lord this shit is exhausting.