Joyeux Anniversaire, Erwin
It really wasn't as though he enjoyed this kind of thing, it was annoying really, but Erwin practically drooled on the floor whenever he made the effort and… well, it was the man's birthday. Rivaille wasn't the most… capable of gift givers, so he settled for something he knew Erwin wouldn't, couldn't refuse. A special treat they didn't indulge very often – time consuming it was, and who knew when a hasty re-dress would be called for.
But now, Rivaille was practically tiptoeing through the hallways, expression empty as ever while clutching the closed robe in a white-knuckled fist to keep it from slipping even the barest amount. He wore boots still, because the alternative would be a dead give-away and completely annihilate the discretion of a robe. A bag was carried carefully in one hand, draped over his shoulder while eyes darted sharply to any slight movement or noise.
No sense in being caught by a bunch of fucking brats too nosey and fucking lose-tongued for their own good. He might actually have to seriously injure one of them if he were caught wearing this shit.
The office door was unlocked when deceptively slim fingers curled around it and with a final, sweeping gaze Rivaille slipped into the room and shut the door quietly behind him. A smirk was already touching the edges of thin lips, another cursory check for unwanted people (Erwin included this time). It was a simple office really. Simple, neat, and most of all – clean.
Rivaille breathed a sigh, tugging off the boots and slipping through the side door. A small room, complete with kitchenette, two sofas, a low table, a small wardrobe and mirror. The boots were left within the wardrobe, the bag deposited on one of the sofas, Rivaille followed it, smirking fully now as he plucked through the contents.
So maybe he lied, maybe he fucking loved this kind of thing too. Wasn't like he'd every say it though.
~ ~ * éclater * ~ ~
It was a long day, but then, every one tended to work out that way. The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. A half-assed attempt to ward the headache pulsing behind his eyes – but nothing would soothe that like a strong liquor. Perhaps two.
It was in the haze of booze adoration that Erwin stepped into his office, looked up and promptly froze when assaulted by the subtle scent of Lavender.
'So much for that brandy.'
The thought was bemused, distant and headache nearly forgotten as eyes tracked over the… surprise behind his desk. Rivaille smirked at him, half-lidded eyes glinting as he took another sip of a blush wine, swirled the glass and tilted his head in question.
"Si on buvait quelque chose?" Rivaille practically purred, and took another sip.
Erwin chuckled, snapped from the daze as he approached, casual. Eyes raked over the expanse of skin bared to him, starting with the black satin ribbon tied about the Corporal's neck in place of the standard cravat – to the Chinese Violet colored corset cinched tight about his middle, stopping just below defined pectorals and lower to the shred of satin thong and garter straps trailing from corset edges down to the tops of lace stockings. Rivaille crossed uncrossed and crossed legs draped over the arm of Erwin's chair, drawing attention to feet clad in flat-black Oxford style pumps with a heel that could be nothing less than six inches.
Erwin was hard, practically painful in the restriction of trousers but controlled, cool. He returned the Rivaille's smirk, eyes low and burning.
"Shall I pour my own?"
An arched brow and hard tone had the Corporal shivering, muscular legs slung gracefully from the arm of his chair to the floor. Rivailly stood, slowly – more not to fucking break an ankle in the godforsaken shoes though he'd claim it seduction – before slinking around the desk.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound was sharp, cutting and every step sent a shiver down Erwin's spine. Rivaille was a vision, dressed like that – swaying hips and compacted curves and… fuck those stockings. A sharp line of black cutting straight down the back of leg, made apparent as the bastard bent over to display that pert, perfectly rounded ass. Erwin refrained from slapping it, instead sliding his jacket off, draping it over the back of a chair before rolling the sleeves of his shirt to his elbow. Rivaille turned as the Commander approached, lids low and gaze heated as he offered the wine glass with a smirk.
"Je veux faire l'amour avec toi." He whispered, stepping closer to Erwin as the man sipped at the wine, eyes locked heatedly.
Fingers traced down the front of shirt, plucking at buttons without undoing them while hips rocked forward and head craned with a lascivious smile. All temptation, a flying leap into this rare game with abandon. A constant power play – though they both had their own methods. Erwin bent down, glass in one hand, the other cupping that delicious ass and tugging the smaller man close. Rivaille groaned when hot breath ghosted past his ear.
"Now, what has come over you? Seducing me in the middle of the day – when anyone could walk in."
Rivaille shivered again, the whisper intimate, as teasing as his hands that played over the blonde's broad chest, thumbs rubbing roughly atop covered nipples.
"You forgot, Commander?" Voice lilted in a taunt, and Erwin's grasp roughened with a grumble.
"Bend over the desk."
A command, sharp as any given during a Scouting Mission and Rivaille complied, twisting from the grasp with a sway of hips and the barest stumble in the ridiculous fucking heels. Damned things. If they didn't drive Erwin absolutely mad he might just forego them.
Palms slid across polished wood as Rivaille bent forward, arching his back as much as possible in the cinched corset to preset a more than tempting view for his Commander. Glazed eyes watched over his shoulder as Erwin took his time moving into the next room - returning with a familiar bag that brought triumphant smirk to lips. It was placed on the desk, before a hand yet again slid over the curve of his ass, gripping briefly before releasing and drawing back to deliver a sharp slap that knocked him forward. Balanced precariously as he was on his toes, Rivaille gasped, cock strained against satin panties and another slap was delivered. The other cheek marked this time and he groaned, dropping his cheek to the desk as Erwin caressed pinked skin with an almost covetous look.
"The lingerie becomes you, Rivaille. You should wear it more often."
Rivaille scoffed, pressed back against the palm that abandoned his ass to skim over his back – fingers playing with the bow that held ribbon together at the top.
"Too much fucking hassle, and it's uncomfortable." He grumbled and Erwin chuckle, low and deep.
"You seem quite comfortable to me…" He leant forward, lips grazing the shell of Rivaille's ear. "Bent over my desk and hard."
Erwin practically growled and Rivaille groaned, eyes fluttering when his wrists were grasped, held firm in one hand. The other, free of its burden, curled about his neck, gentle but firm to tug him back against the firm body, the hips grinding a mirroring erection against his ass. Fuck but it felt good and they hadn't even gotten to the good part.
Lips skimmed his neck, the sharp nibble of teeth and the Corporal again rolled his hips back, harshly against Erwin's clothed cock.
"Teasing bastard." A breathy grumble, no heat and no real complaint. Erwin chuckled again, velvety as he released Rivaille's neck to palm at his straining erection.
"Now, now – you dressed up for me. I thought I would merely savor the moment. It is quite rare."
Always so cool, but he would come undone soon enough. Rivaille smirked, rolled his hips again and savored the groan it earned him. The hand around his wrists tightened, the teasing to his cock – feather light and maddening – continued, and he moaned; delighting in the shiver behind him. Erwin shoved Rivaille forward, hand pinning the smaller man to the desk between his shoulders. The other traced his ass, and the blonde hummed thoughtfully before caressing the crevice between – rubbing satiny fabric against Rivaille's sensitive hole. The Corporal moaned, rocked his hips back, cursed the fucking shoes and Erwin in a string of garbled French when those fingers abandoned him and legs almost gave out.
The sound of cap clattering to the desk drew his attention, eyes focused on the bottle of oil – and more importantly the glass, textured dildo lying beside it. Yes. Fucking finally.
"Don't move your hands." Another command and he nodded, agreeing just so they could get the fuck on with it.
Thong pulled aside, a cool, slicked finger rubbed against him – teasing and circling before slipping inside. Slow and torturous, any attempts to buck back on the damned thing resulted in Erwin grabbing his hip, holding him in place before the second was added. Pumping in and out, in and out with controlled efficiency. The panties were soaked, uncomfortable and clinging to his throbbing cock. Rivaille moaned, eyes closed, basking in the sensations when those fingers curled, struck and then viciously rubbed his prostate long enough for him to cry out in the salvation of release…
Slid away, gone and he felt dreadfully empty and fucking annoyed by the bastard's teasing. He knew Erwin must be near exploding through the very seams of his trousers yet he held onto that impeccable control like damned statue. He growled, jerked against the hand on his back and glowered at the blonde, who smiled in return as he reached around, tugging the panties down – crouching to follow them with a trail of burning kisses against back, ass, thighs – urging him to step out of them before tossing them aside. Free, his cock throbbed again, dribbled pre-cum and struck by cool air that beckoned another shiver.
A freedom quickly dealt with when the cool metal of a fucking cock ring replaced soaked satin.
"The fuck?!" Rivaille jerked, a sharp glare over his shoulder but the returning look was stern.
"You're not cumming until I allow you to." Oh… Rivaille shivered again, lids dropping and desire spiking.
That was acceptable.
Touch didn't return immediately, and when it did it was the blunt press of oil covered glass against his hole. Fingers curled into fists and a hiss of pleasure rushed past taunt lips. Finally. In it slipped, ever so slow – then out, returning that bit more. Heinous is what it was. Torture that left Rivaille a panting mess with sweat clinging to his brow and fingers curled around the edge of the desk. He moaned again, only to shout when the dildo was shoved roughly against his prostate. His legs went weak, quaking beneath the lust and sensations but Erwin was relentless. Grasped one thigh and pulled his leg up, so high – enough that the Commander could drag his lips down the smoothness of stockings and resentfully shaved legs, nip at the curve of tendon behind knee and teasingly barely move the fucking dildo, barely brush his prostate with it – but the texture made up for it.
Until it stopped.
Rivaille hissed, annoyed at being denied. But, as if in apology – those attentions shifted, down to heavy balls and purpling cock straining against the metal band and weeping profusely. Erwin cupped his balls, rolled them in his palm – and Rivaille squirmed.
"Touch me…" A demand, gasped on an exhale that went unanswered.
Fingertips brushed the bottom of erection, sliding along the throbbing vein to the ridge of cock head and swiping over the leaking slit. Another gasp, another groan – another growl to demand more but only two fingers circled him. They clenched, almost painfully tight before loosening, sliding up and down, up and down. Rivaille wanted to scream his frustration.
"Patience, Rivaille… I'll fuck you soon enough, but I want you to beg me for it."
He didn't release the leg and Rivialle cursed him thoroughly in French, clenching his ass against the weight of the dildo, bucking hips to seek more friction. He snarled, jerked more but there was little place to go without risking dislocating a hip and/or breaking an ankle. Forehead thudded against the desk, a noise closer to a whimper erupting from him as he made one last , token effort.
"Erwin…" A hiss. "Please…" A gasp, and jerk of the hips. "Just fuck me!" A shout, rebounding the walls, loud enough any passerby outside would have heard and his leg was released.
Erwin bent over him, hands firmly on his hips – thumbs caressing his ass.
"Ohh, louder Rivaille, I think they might not have heard you."
Mocking, teasing – but it did little other than stab the fires already raging in boiling blood and earned only a moan. The presence stepped back, an unwelcome loss that was followed by the dildo being jerked free, and he gasped again, quivered with expectancy when the sound of clothing shuffling, zipper moving was heard behind him.
He didn't look, didn't need to and when he felt the heat of Erwin's cock he moaned with abandon, tried to press back to have it inside faster but Erwin held him fast and he whimpered, thighs trembling and knees threatening to give way. Agonizingly slow he was breeched, stretched around Erwin's cock. Large, huge even – when compared to his own petite frame. But it fit, so wonderfully full and hot… but too goddamned slow.
"Fucking move, I'm not going to break." Rivaille barked, demanding but almost a plea.
Erwin smirked, drew back so that he was almost gone. Rivaille wanted to recant his statement, beg the blonde back and whimpered a pathetic sound that turned into a wail when the Commander slammed viciously forward. Oh, this was how he wanted it. Rough, hard, desperate. It seemed the last of Erwin's resistance snapped because the man wasted no time pulling back and drilling into him again. Wood bit into his hips, ass burned from the thunderous impact of their bodies and the moans came with garbled, senseless words of pleasure – of more, more, more.
He didn't want to be able to walk the next day. Didn't want to be able to fucking move.
Hands released his hips, allowing him to roll and buck back against the onslaught, harder and harder it rocked every bone in his body.
Rivaille gasped when the laces of the corset were gripped and his body jerked back by them harshly, arching him almost unnaturally – so that he stood on tip toe, weight supported by his groin against the edge of merciless wood and fingertips steadying upper body. Perfect. The angle brought that glorious cock slamming into his prostate with every thrust, Erwin growled, bit at his neck and drove into him steadily.
"Er…win…" Gasped, eyes closed, one arm snapping back to clamp fingers against the Commander's shoulder –bruising in their strength and earning him a groan of approval.
It was a painful pleasure, sharp and unrelenting and Rivaille loved every moment of it. Moaned when Erwin's hips swiveled just so, when they snapped sharply and rolled like a tide washing over in that one teasing stroke that jerked the oncoming dry-climax back into desperate desire. He thought he might go mad with it, clawing at his insides, blazing in his blood and stealing oxygen from his lungs.
He wanted to cum, wanted Erwin to cum. Was incoherent with the need of it singing through every muscle strung taunt on his frame, body testing the limits of the expensive, beautiful corset and, muscles strung taunt – curving gracefully like a bow with head thrown back and eyes closed and skin saturated in sweat.
"L-let… me… please." A truly desperate whine that had Erwin gasping against his neck, biting harshly into his shoulder and jerking the cock ring free.
It was like being struck by lightning, the pressure gone and perhaps the hardest thrust thus far slamming into his prostate.
Rivaille shrieked pleasure, toes curling in oxfords and vision going black as climax surged through him almost painfully in globs of white that soiled the desk and floor beneath them. Sharp, quick, vicious. It sucked with it energy as muscles turned to jelly, useless beneath him and Erwin moaned long, low, husky and divine against his ear as his hips shot forward, fighting against the muscles clenching about his cock when his own orgasm had him freezing, tensing.
It was a glorious, glorious high that nearly stole consciousness away and left an acute lethargy in its place as both men sunk to the floor. Boneless and spent, still joined at the hip. Rivaille gasped in breath, eyes closed – body unmoving while Erwin wrapped arms about his middle and sprinkled lazy kisses about his face.
Almost too intense. But so fucking worth it. Except now, he really thought he might not be able to move. Erwin moved them both, standing on shaky legs as his breathing slowed – though his heart still raced and body nearly burnt with the lingering heat and sweat from their coupling.
Glorious. Rivaille groaned at the movement, he was sore – beautifully so. Erwin nearly collapsed onto the sofa in the other room, reclining back to regain breath and energy.
"Are you okay?"
"Fucking amazing." He croaked, smiled in exhaustion as the blonde chuckled softly.
His throat protested speaking, ached from the screaming and the moaning – and muscles fought every movement he forced on them as he twisted about in Erwin's arms to press a lingering kiss to his lips, chaste – before drawing back, grey meeting sky-blue before he smirked.
"Joyeux anniversaire, Erwin."
And Rivaille dropped back against the blonde's chest as he chuckled, a smile curling his lips as the afterglow of fucking amazing sex sang in his blood and beckoned him to blissful sleep.
"A very good birthday it has been."
"We need a fucking shower."
Erwin barked a laugh.
Chinese Violet is near Lavender but darker, not quite so… bright – it has more of a 'grey' cast.
Oxford Pumps - sexiest fucking shoe in existence and I thought it fit the fashion time period of SnK better than basic pumps or strappy stilettos.
Why purple? Black is abused, green is abused, red is abused… and I downloaded a screenshot of Rivaille and painted various colors over his skin to see which one looked nice. (photoshop works wonders with screenshot of colors and sampling them)
Written to Setsuna Lounge Mix 2013 & Beat and the Harlot by A7X