Idk There’s Just Something About This Dude

rest in fucking pieces levi

BONUS:

ARCANE LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: 1x05 - "Everybody Wants to Be My Enemy" ↳ "I couldn't have done it without you."

when your girl is stronger than you

Deacy’s bassline in Dragon Attack is literally one of the sexiest things on this planet.

And when he licks his fingers to play it? Oh my.

i should be riding some nerd's thigh while he gropes all over my body & tells me i'm the girl on his dreams

eurofans rn:

💫

Can you write a sequel to the sparring levihan where they actually spar and end up doing the dirty? 🔥🔥💦

Hello!! Long time no see :) This is a sort-of sequel to the sparring fic but I'm afraid there's no sparring, only a heaping helping of frustration and sweet, blissful relief when the tension finally breaks. Anyway they fuck in a tent.

Ever since the sparring incident, Levi had found himself itching to be close to her, restless whenever they were in close proximity. His fingers would twitch at his sides and his eyes would wander helplessly, searching her, examining every inch until he had her form guiltily memorised, but he had always maintained some distance. He had deliberately kept Hange at arm's length, in spite of every screaming, feral instinct that begged for the opposite. His own apparent lack of control unnerved and frustrated him. Levi had been very careful, until now, not to put it to the test.

**

"Absolutely not."

"Oh c'mon Levi, it's one night!"

"No."

"You're being unreasonable."

"I'd rather crawl up a titans asshole and die than share a tent with you."

"That's a little hurtful, you know."

"Don't care."

Hange folded her arms and glared over at him. Levi averted his gaze coolly, rolling his eyes sideways to stare at the pasty, shivering recruit beside them, the ripped canvas of their own tent dangling pathetically from their hands. Levi had chewed them out enough already—this situation would have been perfectly avoidable if the idiot had checked their supplies before they set off—and they looked suitably abashed by the entire affair, but Levi curled his lip at them for good measure. They wilted under his gaze.

"Well, tough," Hange said. She turned to the recruit with an appeasing smile and handed over her own pack. "Use this for now. Please don't forget to check the condition of your own equipment in future."

The recruit nodded and snagged Hange's tent, scurrying away with a few fleeting, terrified glances at Levi as they went. Their fear was justified; Levi was feeling a little murderous, watching Hange scoop up his tent and march to a suitable location. He clenched his fists at his side and followed after her.

"Oi. Share with Mike."

Hange snorted. "He barely fits in his own tent."

"Nifa, then. Or Moblit."

Hange looked over her shoulder at him. "That'd be inappropriate."

"And this isn't? Piss off, Four-eyes."

"What's inappropriate? We're equals aren't we, Captain? It's just one night, I'm sure you can manage."

Levi disagreed. Vehemently. But he clamped his mouth shut, and watched Hange with some apprehension as she laid out the canvas and poles for Levi's tent, wishing it were simply an imbalance in status that bothered him so much.

Ever since the sparring incident, Levi had found himself itching to be close to her, restless whenever they were in close proximity. His fingers would twitch at his sides and his eyes would wander helplessly, searching her, examining every inch until he had her form guiltily memorised, but he had always maintained some distance. He had deliberately kept Hange at arm's length, in spite of every screaming, feral instinct that begged for the opposite. His own apparent lack of control unnerved and frustrated him. Levi had been very careful, until now, not to put it to the test.

They set up the tent in very one-sided conversation. Hange chatted endlessly as they worked, and Levi offered her half-assed grunts and monosyllabic responses until she ceased expecting anything from him at all, and talked continuously instead. Levi ground his teeth when her hand brushed his to pass him the hammer, her fingertips rough and warm, electric where they grazed his palm.

They had limited room to manoeuvre, within the tent. Hange laid their mats and blankets inside, and Levi managed to wedge both of their bags down where their feet would go, but the tents weren't designed for two sleepers—they were compact little things, just long enough and narrow enough for one well-built soldier. He eyed the mouth of the tent, and then slid his gaze sideways to where Hange stood, stooped to peer in as well.

"It'll be a squeeze," she said, straightening up. She jammed her hands on her hips and grinned at him. "But we'll manage."

Levi scowled. "Eat shit."

Hange seemed as unbothered as she ever was by his churlish response. She stretched well, her arms reaching high towards the pink sky, as though already preparing for the long, cramped night ahead. Levi followed the line of her body from her feet right up to the tips of her fingers; her long, lithe, lean frame was only accentuated by the belts of her gear, and Levi noticed for the first time how tight they were against her. They pinched into her thigh, the muscle bulging between the thin leather straps. Levi's mouth watered with the unbidden urge to sink his teeth into the firm flesh. He swallowed reflexively, and pulled his gaze away from her legs and up to her face, where, to his mortification, he found Hange watching him with a curious tilt of her head.

"Something wrong?" She asked. Levi curled his lip and turned away quickly to hide his flush, stomping towards the stone pit and throwing a few sticks into it to start a fire.

The evening passed strangely. Time seemed to drag on, caught between pointless conversation, listening to Hange talk animatedly with her squad while his own team listened with rapt attention over their steaming bowls of stew. It was, at the very least, a good excuse to watch her. It wasn't so obvious that he was staring when Hange was the centre of everyone's attention. And then, all too soon, the sun had fallen beyond the horizon and the sky had grown dark, lit by the pale glow of a full moon, and the soldiers were retiring to their own tents.

Hange stayed up to clear the dishes. She had waved away her squads proferred help, but it felt rude to go to bed without her, and so Levi squatted down beside her and wordlessly began rinsing the leftover bowls.

"You don't have to," Hange said, though gave no objection when he fished the bowl from her hand and dipped it into the pail.

"You'd do a shit job on your own," he said gruffly. He ran his thumbs around the inside of the shallow dish, sweeping greasy residue from the polished wood. From the corner of his eye, he saw Hange green. She shifted in her squat, settling by his side and taking the bowl when he held it out for her, running a grotty towel over it. Levi scowled. He wanted to berate her for using the dirty fabric on freshly washed dishes, but then she moved again, and her knee nudged into his own, and all decent thought was wiped abruptly from his mind.

Stupid, how such simple contact unbuckled him so easily. Her knee was warm through the fabric, and pressed more firmly against his own whenever she shifted to pile the bowls into their crate. It took an inordinate amount of concentration for Levi to continue his task; he slowed considerably, taking his time to rinse each dish, focusing intently on the feel of the grain beneath his fingertips, the way carved wood sloped in a low curve and rose again, catching his nail on the thin lip around the rim of the bowl. Anything to keep his mind occupied, to keep his thoughts from straying.

Hange hummed contentedly as she worked. The crackling fire was dimming, embers glowing bright in the darkness, and there was a constant, low hum of chatter as the soldiers readied themselves for bed. In any other circumstance, Levi might have called the atmosphere peaceful.

But the dishes were almost done. The food had been packed and hiked up a height, safe from any scavengers. The tents were set, and the first watch had settled at their posts. There was nothing peaceful at all, about the prospect of what was to come next.

Hange straightened up when the last dish was dried and packed, hefting the crate up into her arms. It must have been heavy, loaded with pots and pans, bowls and utensils, but Hange lifted it with little more than a quiet grunt as the weight settled in her arms. Levi's gaze caught on her hands. Long, thin fingers, rough and dry from manual labour and a chronic lack of self care. Veins webbed from her knuckles to her wrists, over her forearms, disappearing beneath the turned cuffs of her sleeves where she'd rolled them up. She gripped the edge of the box, her knuckles white under the strain.

"Thanks," Hange said. Levi blinked dazedly, and rolled his eyes up to her face. She blew a few loose strands of hair from her eyes and smiled brightly down at him. "I'll put these away and then we can settle for the night."

Levi's stomach knotted. He nodded mutely, straightening up and dusting himself down as Hange loaded the crate onto the cart, securing a tarp over it. Without her cloak, Levi could see the curve of her ass as she bent forward, accentuated by the leather straps curving beneath each cheek. He bit the inside of his mouth and turned away, painfully aware of the growing tightness in his groin.

Hange met him outside the tent. They stared into the mouth of it for a long while, silent. For Levi's part, he was prolonging the inevitable. Spending the night pressed up against Hange in a tiny one man tent was the stuff of his every fantasy; feeling the length of her body flush against his own, long, strong legs tangled with his, hearing her every breath panted in his ear. It was exciting. Tantalising.

It was also his worst fucking nightmare.

The Hange in his fantasies was a very different person to this Hange, who stood at his side, blissfully unaware. For all her smarts, Hange had failed to notice exactly what she did to him. She treated him like she did anybody else, all bright smiles and casual touches, ignorant of all the nights Levi spent with his hand down his pants, fisting his cock to the thought of her.

"Which side do you want?"

Levi rolled his eyes to the side, though he barely dared to look at her. He didn't much care either way. Finding comfort was going to be an impossible task, regardless of which side he slept on.

"Left," he said anyway. Hange nodded, and began toeing off her boots. Levi did the same, setting them just under the canopy in the slim chance it rained, and crawled quietly into the tent, flopping straight onto his side with his face to the canvas. He waited with his breath held for Hange to climb in behind him, but was met instead with the metallic click of buckles outside. Against his better judgement, Levi looked up.

Hange had already unfastened the strap across her chest and detached the back panel of her gear. She deftly unbuckled the belts at her hips and her thighs until they were loose enough, and then she wiggled, shimmying out of the leather harness. Levi choked. He covered the little noise with a gruff, "Oi. The hell are you doing?"

Hange looked up at him. Bent forward the way she was, her hair fell haphazardly about her face, messy and unkempt as ever. She blinked at him through her fringe, and cocked her head.

"Hm? Taking my gear off."

Levi scowled. "I can see that, shit head. Why?"

"...so I can...sleep? Comfortably? Like a normal person?"

She looked down again, stepping neatly out of the leather pooled around her feet. She tucked the straps under the canopy with their boots, and then, to Levi's horror, she unfastened the button on her pants, and pushed those down her legs, too.

"Hange," he hissed, barely averting his gaze. He was thankful for the darkness. The heat in his face was unbearable; the moonlight would hide his blush, at least a little. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"It's hot," she said. She ducked into the tent, stuffing her discarded pants down by their bags. "I'll sweat if I keep those on."

She was still kneeling in the mouth of the tent. Levi flashed his eyes to her, intent on keeping his gaze up, towards her face, but Hange's fingers were making quick work of her button-down shirt, and the fabric was beginning to splay open, revealing smooth skin, and the wrappings around her breasts.

"For fucks sake," he grumbled. He threw himself back onto his side, scowling at the canvas.

"What?"

"Have some fucking decency," he bit out. To his immense irritation, Hange only laughed.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before," she said. Which was true, technically. But Levi had pictured far more than this, far more than she could ever imagine, and the guilt of that sat heavy in his gut.

Levi lay stiffly as Hange finally clambered into the tent. She pulled the flaps closed, knotting the straps together tightly, and then flattened herself out over the mat and let out a long sigh.

"What a day," she mused quietly. Levi felt her shift behind him, and heard her small, strained groan as she stretched. Levi had wedged himself as close to the side of the tent as possible, but he could still feel her, brushing at his back whenever she moved.

He kicked his foot back, finding her calf and shoving her away. "Stick to your own side," he said, nudging her again. Hange kicked him back and she had the audacity, again, to laugh at him.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news," she said, and Levi felt her move again. Her finger poked into the middle of his back. "But this tent is a little too small for sides. We'll just have to make do. I should warn you, I'm a hugger."

"Hug me and you're sleeping outside," Levi snapped. Hange snickered.

"You'd make a lady sleep out in the open?"

"Some lady. Stripping in a tent with a man."

Hange snorted, then made a dismissive noise, and Levi could picture her waving him off. "It's just you, so it's fine."

Levi frowned. He wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, and whether he was supposed to be offended by it or not. Either way, it wasn't fine. It was so fucking far from fine.

"I suppose I'm not much of a lady, anyway," Hange said, almost absently. Levi grunted his agreement. If she had expected him to refute her, she didn't sound at all disappointed by his lacklustre response. She laughed quietly, and shifted again. Her body felt hot at his back, too close. "Say, Levi?"

"What."

"Do you like women?"

Levi thought guiltily of Hange and his every sordid fantasy, every wayward thought he'd had about her of late. Did he like women? It was hard to say. Levi had never given it much thought before. He'd had sex, a handful of times, but his experiences had not been limited to women, and none had been borne of any distinct attraction. Before Hange, Levi had never particularly desired any one person.

"None of your business," Levi said, in lieu of a proper answer.

Hange huffed behind him. He could picture that pout of hers, the comical, exaggerated jut of her lip, and quick as a flash it was gone again, replaced by a grin that reflected perfectly in her tone when she said, "I'm curious. For all we've talked, I don't know a whole lot about you."

"Stay curious."

"Gaaah, you're no fun, Levi," she drawled. Levi felt her loom closer behind him. He snatched up one of the blankets lumped beneath them and yanked it free, pulling it over himself. It was a thin barrier, but a barrier nonetheless.

Hange must have taken the hint. She said nothing more, but she tossed and turned for a long while as she tried to get comfortable, sighing and huffing in the heat.

Levi was acutely aware of her presence. It set him on edge, body stiffening every time she so much as twitched behind him. His brain worked in overdrive, listening for every little noise outside the tent, or counting the stitches along a seam in the canvas, anything to avoid thinking about Hange. She was so, agonisingly close, and in the confined space he could smell her, salty and earthy as usual, and he could hear her breathing, settling into a long, slow rhythm as she fell into sleep.

It was too easy to imagine a million different scenarios. How simple it would be to roll over now, cover Hange's half bare body with his own. To nudge her legs apart with his knee and settle into the cradle of her thighs, kiss her lips—softly parted as she sleeps—and rouse her awake. He could so vividly imagine the way she would feel, hot and wet through the thin fabric of her underwear, pliant against the press of his cock as he grinds into her. It would be so easy. Too fucking easy.

He shook the thought from his head, curling his hands into tight fists. He felt too hot, a little dizzy in the cramped space. His cock was hard, and Hange made a soft sound in her sleep, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. Levi bit his lip and turned his face into his pillow. Torture. That's what this one; some cruel punishment, and Levi suspected he deserved it, the way he had been thinking about her lately.

He willed himself to calm down, breathing evenly, deeply. His eyes stung, itching with tiredness, but his every muscle was too tense, on edge. And whenever sleep threatened, his mind wandered,  straying dangerously to thoughts of Hange, her bright smile and the lilt of her laughter as Levi pins her down, her wrists clamped above her head in one of his hands. The tent is small and cramped and Hange's breath misted on his face as she giggled, sweet and lilting, breaking into a moan when Levi slid his hand down between them, over her belly, beneath the waistband of her underwear.

He jolted awake again. Cursing quietly, he shifted, adjusting the crotch of his pants to alleviate some of the pressure. Sleep fogged his mind, pulling him under time and time again and teasing him with dream after agonising dream of Hange. Sometimes she was just looking at him, her head cocked in that curious way as she waited for him to speak, to do something. And sometimes her gaze was darker, low and hooded, and her hands and lips met him half way when he moved to her. Sometimes she was already putty in his hands, whining and writhing against the rumpled blankets, and sometimes the tight heat of her was frighteningly real, vice-like around his cock.

He woke again and again, sudden and disoriented. Struggling to shake the pictures from his mind before he tumbled back into sleep.

In the next dream, Hange was pressed snug up against his front. He was molded to the curves and contours of her body, his knees wedged into the crook of her legs, hips flush to her ass, his chest to her back. Her hair tickled his nose, and he tucked his face into the nap of her neck to escape the feathery feeling. She felt so warm against him, and the curve of her ass was soft against his cock. He was sleepy, in this dream, drifting in and out of consciousness, but Hange's body was a constant, pressed tightly back into his front.

She shifted against him, wriggling her hips back, and Levi snaked an arm around her waist to pull her in tighter. His hips pressed forward, slow and lazy; she felt good on his aching cock, deliciously pliant. He let out a breathless moan against her neck, and Hange made a quiet, pleased sound in return.

The pleasure built slowly, this time around. Levi was in no hurry, content to sleepily rut against her. Hange's breathing picked up some, shorter and shallower, broken now and then with tiny, thready moans when Levi ground harder into her. He flattened his palm on her belly—the skin was softer than he'd ever imagined before, smooth and hot, twitching beneath the tickle of his fingertips. A memory swam forward, of Mike, all those months ago, pinching so easily at her side, and he wondered if Mike had ever touched her like this. The thought reared something ugly and possessive in him. His fingers dug into her skin, dragging her back, and his mouth nudged against the skin of her shoulder, teeth scraping there. Hange gasped, but made no move to pull away.

He could taste the sweat on her. Her skin was gritty on his tongue from the dry, dusty air. It should have been unpleasant, maybe, enough to turn him off, but Hange tilted her head against the pillow, exposing more of her neck to him, and Levi obliged helplessly.

"Ah, Levi..." She breathed his name like a prayer, quiet, but it boomed in the cramped tent. Levi's cock jumped, hips flexed. He nipped at her again, revelling in the way his name had sounded, spilling almost silently from her lips.

Everything was so vivid. The way she tasted, the way she felt. Her quick, panted breaths and the quiet little whines that bled through, bitten off to keep quiet—sensible, Levi thought, sucking a bruise into the crook of her neck. They were in a tent, after all. Anyone could hear them.

Except, Hange had never bothered keeping quiet before, in his other dreams. She had been incredibly vocal, whether she was laughing, or moaning, or crooning obscenities in his ear. He had never been able to taste her, either. Never felt each grain of dirt on his tongue.

He blinked groggily.

Moonlight crept through thin spots in the canvas where the seams connected. The spilled like light through a cracked door, slanting into the tent, but Levi's view of it was obscured by a head of messy brown hair.

He blinked again.

Hange—Hange, real and whole, not a dream—was pressed flush to his front, and she was panting breathlessly, her stomach rising and falling sporadically beneath his hand where he held her tight. She squirmed, and Levi bit off a groan. He was hard. Painfully hard, cock wedged against Hange's ass.

"Shit." Levi's voice was thick and hoarse from sleep and arousal. He moved sluggishly, pulling his face away from her neck, the beginnings of shame and disgust roiling in his gut. What had he done? Lost control, is what he'd done, humped his comrade—his superior—like a dirty fucking dog. An animal. "Shit. Fuck. Sorry, Hange—"

He had tried to slide his hand from her waist, but Hange caught him about the wrist and held him tightly. He stilled, frozen. Her grip was firm, but not painful. Levi wouldn't have blamed her for crushing his wrist if she'd wanted to. He deserved that much. But she didn't, just guided his hand back to her belly, and pressed until he splayed his fingers against her again. She wriggled, and Levi muffled a sudden grunt against her back; the move teased his cock mercilessly.

"Sorry," he said again, reflexive. He felt Hange shake her head.

"It's fine. It's—" she moved again, more insistent, this time. Levi's hips curved helplessly forward, seeking pressure, friction, and Hange let out a shuddering breath, pushing back to meet him. She bit back another sound. Levi's fingers curled at the noise, pads pressing into the soft skin of her stomach.

"Fuck," Levi said again. This couldn't be happening, couldn't be real. Only in his wildest fucking fantasies could he have Hange like this. But it was real. The way she rolled her hips back was real, and the soft, barely contained sounds bleeding out of her were real, and the way she gripped his wrist again, pushed his hand down this time, low, lower, until he was cupping her over her underwear—that was so very real.

"Shit, Hange," Levi breathed. He ran his fingers over her. She was wet, drenched through the fabric, heat radiating from her and her hips shuddered when Levi stroked a line over her, breath jumping. She took him by the back of the hand and moved him where she wanted her, applying pressure—just as brazen as he'd imagined her to be. He let her lead him, circling over her clit in a way that made her tremble, body curling in on itself. She whined, turned her face into the pillow to muffle the sound.

Levi curled with her. He bit at her shoulder again, delighting in the way it made her tremble while his fingers worked her over.

He had imagined this more times than he could count. Far more than he'd ever care to admit. The way she would feel, the way she would sound—the way she would look. He couldn't see her like this, with her face buried in her pillow, and he was struck by the sudden urge that he wanted to. Hange might regret this in the morning, she might hate him for it. If she was giving him this one chance, he wanted to make the most of it.

He pulled his hand from between her legs and raised himself up. Hange gave a disappointed whine, turned her face to look at him as he moved over her, hovering.

She blinked tired eyes up at him. She looked just like Hange always looked, sans glasses, with her messy hair and chapped lips and dirt smeared on her skin, but the streak of moonlight cast her in a soft, pale glow, glinting in her eyes and catching on the soft pink of her cheeks. The effect was so jarring it made him pause. He froze staring down at her, until Hange moved to lie on her back, and her hands crept up to his waist, pinching into his shirt.

"Why'd you stop?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper. It's such an innocent question, and Hange said it so simply, as though she were asking for something as innocuous as a massage, like Levi hadn't been dry humping her in his sleep. He dipped low, eyes darting over her face, falling again and again to her lips. Dry, cracked, stupid fucking lips.

Levi moved closer. Hesitated. He gave Hange time to move, if she wanted to, to push him away, but she watched him with that infuriatingly calm gaze, and Levi's composure broke.

He kissed her like he was angry with her. He was, in a way; angry that she had insisted on sharing a tent, angry that she had stripped down to her underwear right next to him, like it was nothing. Like it would have no effect on him. Angry that she looked the way she did, sounded the way she did, angry that he could never quite get her out of his head. Their teeth cracked painfully, but Hange opened her mouth to him readily, her tongue licking quick and sharp behind his teeth, against the roof of his mouth. She kissed him back like she had been starving for it. Levi allowed himself a moment to wonder (hope, maybe) that she had been.

He nudged her legs apart with his knee. She shifted easily, making space for him to settle between her spread thighs, and Levi felt the hitch of her breath when he touched her again, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of her underwear this time. He thumbed at her clit, rubbed his fingers over her opening, and Hange canted her hips into him, hissing her yes against his lips.

It's a funny thing, how loud every little thing becomes when quiet is a necessity. Hange's ragged breathing echoed like thunder, every hitch and start painfully audible in the quiet night. The rustle of the sheets and the wet, smacking sound of his fingers fucking into her, sloppy, sucking kisses and Levi's own breath, shaking and dragging rough in his throat, all of it was unbearably loud. He kissed her soundly, swallowing her moans, trying to keep her quiet. The others should be sleeping, and the watch stations were a little way from the campsite; they should be fine, but Levi wasn't willing to take the risk. The last thing he wanted was word of this indiscretion getting around, getting back to Mike or Erwin. Great big bastards with their stupid smug looks. He couldn't stand even the thought of it.

He bit at her bottom lip and Hange whimpered, her hips rolling up into his hand, seeking more from his fingers. He nipped at her again. His cock jumped at the sound she made. He dragged his lips from her mouth to her jaw, scraping his teeth along the sharp line of bone there, and down to her neck, where he sucked the skin up and laved his tongue over it.

He kissed down to her collar, her chest, running his lips over the top of the wrapping there. One of Hange's hands settled on his shoulder, fingers curling into the collar of his shirt, and the other sunk into the hair atop his head, tugging enough to sting.

He had predicted Hange to be a demanding thing in bed. Still, it surprised him when she began pushing him down, past her chest, her belly, guiding his face between her legs. He stopped there and scowled up at her, waver her hand away from his head where she had been shoving him.

"Brat," he hissed. Hange grinned lazily down at him, evidently proud of herself. Levi was less than gentle when he gripped her hips and hiked her right up the length of her mat, until the top of her head bumped into the canvas, so that he could settle between her legs more comfortably. Maybe, in another circumstance, Levi might have teased her. Drawn this out more. Took his time with her, exploring every inch of skin from ankle to hip with his tongue and lips and teeth, bite marks into the soft, scarred skin. But Hange was persistent, demanding. Her fingers threaded back into his hair as Levi pulled her underwear down and she tugged him in insistently, anging her cunt up to his mouth.

Up close, Levi could smell her; heady, dizzying. He nuzzled his mouth and nose into her, the tip of his tongue drawing a line up the seam of her, circling her clit before he cupped his lips around her, sucking gently. Her hips bucked up and a shaky, unsteady moan bled out of her.

"Shut up," Levi warned, muffled. He slid his hands under her ass, gripping her cheeks and pulling her hips closer to his face.

He made a meal of her, like he had done in every daydream, every fantasy. Lapped at her, sucked at her, drank her down, and Hange writhed and panted just like he'd always thought she would, desperate against him. She had a hand clamped tight over her mouth but it did little to quiet her, and her hitched, stuttered breathing carried loud in the quiet night.

"Shit, Levi," she groaned, strained, when he crooked two fingers into her. "That's—yeah, like—like that, oh fuck."

Levi hummed quietly against her. He could feel her throbbing beneath his lips and tongue, her walls fluttering around his fingers. She breathed quick and harsh, chanting his name in a whisper that grew in pitch, and then she stifled, silent, beautifully taut, before the pressure snapped. She came with a short, sharp cry, too loud, her body shuddering and twitching as Levi worked her through, swallowing the rush of fluid on his tongue.

He pulled away, rubbing his mouth against her thigh to wipe some of the wetness away. "Too fucking loud," he muttered. He nipped at her trembling thigh for good measure before he drew himself up onto his hands and knees, and made his way back up her body.

Even in a situation like this, Hange offered affection easily. She greeted him with a happy, satisfied smile, her arms wrapping loosely around his neck as he crawled his way up to meet her, drawing him in dizzyingly close. She kissed him, just a peck, at first, gentle and bare, but when Levi pulled back, face sour as he said, "that's fucking gross, four-eyes," she laughed lazily and pulled him in again, licking at his messy lips and coaxing him into a something deeper. It should have been disgusting, with the lower half his face wet and slick, but the smell of her was heady in his nose, and Hange made low, quiet noises each time she sucked at his lip, tasting herself, and Levi couldn't really bring himself to mind.

Hange's hands roamed over his shoulders, down his back. She dug her fingers beneath the back plate of his gear and tugged it, huffing into his mouth.

"This is why I don't sleep in gear," she said into his mouth. "I want your shirt off."

Levi pulled back, straddling her hips and sitting up to unfastened the buckle across his chest.

"I don't think this is why," he said. Hange had already unfastened the straps at his hips, and had moved on to the main belt at his waist. He hissed when her knuckles brushed his cock through his pants, hips bucking forward involuntarily.

"Mm, maybe not. But it's a good side effect." Hange splayed her hands over his hips as he pushed the harness back and off. She smoothed her palms down his thighs and up again, content to simply watch rather than help as he unfastened the belts there.

It was awkward, kicking his way out of the leather in the tiny tent. Hange giggled at him the entire time, openly delighted at his struggle, and the smile didn't leave her face even as Levi put on his best scowl.

"Grumpy," she laughed. Her hands reached for his face when he folded back over her, her thumb smoothing the wrinkled skin between his brows. "Careful. If the wind changes you'll get stuck like that."

Levi scowled deeper, defying her pull on his skin, and Hange laughed again—too bright, too loud. He should have shushed her again, but something in her big, open smile, her brazen happiness, stalled him.

She drew him so easily into another kiss. Levi followed her down helplessly, stretching his legs out, nudging his way back between her thighs while her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt. She pushed it back from his shoulders and ran her palms over the exposed skin of his back. He could feel every callus on her palms and fingers, the rough spots catching and scratching. The sensation made his hips twitch, and Hange laughed throatily every time, switching to scrape her nails from his shoulders and down his back. Levi hissed, biting her tongue.

"Sensitive," Hange mused. She soothed him, rubbing her thumbs in small circles while she licked long and slow into his mouth.

Levi had expected fucking Hange to be quick and rough, a desperate release after so much pathetic pining. He hadn't expected anything like this—not the soft touches, or the kisses, or the laughter. Not the way Hange's hands worked his pants open while she sucked on his tongue, pushing his pants and underwear down the length of his legs until she could reach no more. She brought her legs up and used her feet—disgusting—to shimmy them the rest of the way down. Levi kicked them off, and then the pair of them were bare save for Hange's breast wrappings. She seemed in no hurry to take them off. She hadn't sought his touch there, guided neither his hands or his mouth to her chest, but she must have caught him staring for she tilted her head, and looked down at the wrappings herself.

"I can take it off, if you want," she said. Levi's eyes rolled up to her face. For the first time, something uncomfortable reflected there. Something uncertain. Levi leaned down to kiss at the soft spot beneath her jaw.

"It's fine," he said. Hange let out a long sigh—relief, he suspected—and wound her arms around his neck.

It was Hange who moved first, spreading her legs and curling her thighs up against his hips, so that his cock brushed temptingly against her cunt. She nipped at his mouth, catching his bottom lip between her teeth and biting down hard enough to ache.

"What're you waiting for? Fuck me," She muttered, running her tongue over his throbbing lip. Levi growled low in his throat and bit back, teeth gnashing, barely catching her tongue. She yelped and dropped her head to the pillow with an exaggerated pout.

"That wasn't sexy," she said. Levi shifted his weight onto one elbow and slipped the other hand between them. He stared, transfixed, at the way Hange's eyelids fluttered when his knuckles brushed her belly, her hips.

"Wasn't supposed to be," Levi said. "Was supposed to shut you up."

"Mission failed."

"I can fucking hear that."

Hange grinned, and Levi drew his fingers down to the joint of her thigh, gliding over the slick skin. Hange made an airy, breathless sound, when Levi took his cock in hand and pressed it up against her cunt.

Hange wasn't the type to beg. She'd showed him as much, dragging him here and there, taking what she wanted from him without hesitation. Her nails dug into the back of his neck, her eyes screwed shut, and her mouth fell open with a gasped, "please," and Levi didn't have the strength to deny her.

She felt fucking phenomenal. Maybe, if he'd had more control, more discipline, he'd have teased her. Pushed in a little way, let her feel the stretch and withdrew, fucked her with short, shallow, languid strokes until she was crying for more, for him to fill her so deep she could feel it in her gut. He'd have taken his time, savoured every small detail. But he was a desperate man, and he slid into her quickly and all at once, until they were flush together. Hange sucked a few frantic breaths at the intrusion and Levi buried a low moan in the crook of her neck.

"Fuck, Hange," he rasped. His voice grated in the quiet night, too loud. Hange wheezed in his ear, air shuddering in uneven bursts from her chest. Her nails raked into his skin. He drew his face up slowly, nose brushing along her cheek until he could look at her. She looked back at him through low, hooded eyes, lips wet and open. "You good?"

Hange nodded. She snaked her hands up into his hair and pulled him down, into a kiss far softer than Levi had expected. "Good," she breathed. "Move."

Levi obeyed her without thought or question. Hange breathed ragged and open-mouthed against his lips, quiet, airy moans catching in her throat every time Levi's hips snapped forward. Every tiny sound rang out boldly in the quiet night; Hange's rough, staggered gasps and Levi's own panting breaths, grunts muffled behind clenched teeth; skin on skin, sharp and distinct, growing louder when Hange's blunt nails dug long welts into his back, when her legs curled up around his hips, urging him on. Too damn loud, but it was impossible to care with Hange all but whimpering his name, kissing wet and clumsy at his lips.

Levi had fantasised about this moment more than he'd ever dare to admit, and still, he was woefully unprepared. He had expected her to be rough, demanding, dominating—and perhaps she would be without the dark and the quiet, without the flimsy illusion of privacy the tent afforded them. But she was quiet now, muffling her sounds into deep, dizzying kisses as Levi's thrusts faltered.

"Fuck," Levi hissed, gritting his teeth. "Gonna come."

Hange let out a throaty chuckle, her nails scraping up the back of his neck and into his hair. "Quick."

"Piss off," Levi grumbled. He snaked a hand between them, clumsily pressing against her clit—she aborted her snickering abruptly with a twitch and a throaty, surprised moan, and Levi watched as her eyes squeezed closed, face scrunched and mouth stupidly open. She looked ridiculous. Levi kissed her again.

"Hurry up," he muttered, stroking her faster, fighting to keep the sharp jerk of his hips even. "Come already."

Hange's second orgasm ripped from her more violently than the first. She came with a protracted moan, bordering on a sob, her nails digging painfully into Levi's back.

"Thank fuck," Levi said, voice tight as he gave in to the building tension, fucking into her too quick, too rough, too loud, and barely pulling out in time to spill over her trembling belly.

Levi collapsed beside Hange, laying heavily on his side. She lolled her head over to look at him, an idle grin spreading over her face.

"That wasn't what I was getting at, you know. When I said we should share a tent. Or when I took my clothes off."

"Or when you rubbed yourself all over me while I slept?"

"You started that." Levi huffed quietly, but said nothing in return. Hange sighed and stretched as much as she could in the cramped space. "Not that I minded. I was wondering if you'd ever do more than just look."

Levi shot her a questioning look. "Ah?"

Hange shrugged, rolling onto her side and curling an arm beneath her head. Like this, her knee brushed lightly against Levi's—her skin felt warm and soft as she slipped her legs to tangle effortlessly with his, shuffling closer. Her smile was soft and easy, but there was something mischievous in the pinch of her eyes.

"You're not all that subtle."

"The hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Hange said, leaning forward and whispering, conspiratorial, "that maybe you shouldn't stare so much if you don't wanna get caught."

With nothing to say to defend himself, Levi kissed his teeth and knocked his forehead against Hange's a little harder than necessary. He pulled back, and watched with some satisfaction as Hange scowled, rubbing at her aching brow.

"You know, you've got a funny way of showing affection," she said, pouting.

"Who said I'm being affectionate?"

Hange pointedly ignored him. She wiggled impossibly closer instead, and Levi watched her with equal parts interest and trepidation as the smile on her face grew wider, and without warning, she lurched for him, arms squeezing around his waist and hitting him with enough force to knock him onto his back. He gusted out a heavy breath, while Hange wriggled around on top of him, adjusting to get comfortable. Something slimy, wet, and rapidly cooling smeared across his belly as she shifted, and Levi swore quietly.

"Oi," he hissed, knocking a closed fist to the top of Hange's head. "Stop moving. You're making a mess."

Hange only hummed, unbothered, and propped her pointed chin on Levi's chest, looking up at him with a disarming smile.

"Mmm, no, you made a mess. I'm just making it worse."

She shimmied more rapidly, and Levi grimaced, snapping his hands down to her hips to still her. "You're vile. Get up."

"No. I'm pretty comfortable—you're not as bony as you look, Captain."

Levi clicked his tongue. "Move, or I'll move you myself."

Hange squeezed her arms tight around his back and dug her chin into his chest. "Try your best. I'm stronger than I look!"

Levi glared down at her, took in the shine of her eyes in the low, pale light, and the smile stretching her cheeks, and flushed hot at the obscene, unwelcome urge to stretch forward and kiss her. Just kiss her. For no real reason other than she looked...nice, and he wanted to.

Instead, he wound his own arms around Hange's back, and with a heave, he threw both of them sideways, Hange's back hitting the floor with a thump. He used her moment of shock to sit up out of her grip and straddled her hips to keep her pinned, one hand planted squarely on her chest so she couldn't sit up while the other fished around for any discarded fabric that wasn't his own clothes. He scooped up Hange's shirt and wiped at her belly with it, clearing up the mess of sticky, drying come, and then wiped himself down.

Hange let out an indignant squawk. "Is that my shirt?"

"It's not mine," Levi said. Hange opened her mouth to say something else, something loud, probably, given the great lungful of air she sucked in, but before she could yell Levi dropped the soiled fabric over her face, and he watched with his teeth clamped onto the inside of his cheek as she scrambled to pull it off.

"And you said I was vile," she huffed. Hange waved the messy shirt between them. "I have to wear this tomorrow, y'know."

Levi took it and set it to one side, as far away from himself as possible, and looked down at Hange with a half shrug.

"Now it's about as nasty as the rest of you."

"Well now you're just being mean."

Levi shuffled off of her. It was awkward, redressing in the confines of the tent, with Hange snorting whenever he bumped into the canvas. But there was something about the ease with which she sprawled herself over the mat, head pillowed on her arm, eyes glinting as she watched him, that felt oddly nice. Warm, and comfortable.

The feeling was foreign, but not unwelcome. Hange tucked herself in, shimmying her legs beneath one of the thin blankets, yawning widely as she did. The space between them felt oddly cold and empty now, without Hange's body pressed against his own. He shifted a leg until his knee bumped against hers, and Hange winked a sleepy eye open to look at him.

"What happened to staying to your own side?" She murmured.

"Tents too small for sides," he said. Hange grinned lazily, and leaned forward until her forehead brushed against his, tickling at his fringe. Entirely too close, but Levi found he didn't mind all that much.

The quiet and the closeness was relaxing, in a strange way. With his pent up energy expended and Hange's contagious enthusiasm doused by sleep, Levi's earlier tiredness crept back in, and soon enough he felt himself drifting too. He blinked heavily and watched Hange's face, slack as she slept on. Even now, something about her drew him in, though there was a new warmth in his chest now, a tightness that squeezed the air from his lungs.

Slowly, he reached up, and brushed Hange's unruly hair out of her face. She shifted minutely, turning into the touch. Levi stared at her as she settled, tucking her cheek down into the pillow, and a terrible thought occurred to him. And compared to this, wanting Hange in his bed seemed like a very minor issue.

"Ah. Shit."

Liking Hange is a much larger problem.

Freddie Mercury and John Deacon in LIAR (1973)