Getting tension out of his thighs seems to be the exact opposite of what he's managing to achieve. The trailing kisses do seem to send a spike of pleasure every time lips meet skin, sending his pulse just a little notch higher every time. But now Erwin's given up enough pretense that Levi's caught on to him catching on, and it's stirring up his head a little (because does he seriously expect him to think that he can do any kind of real massage at that angle? fucking please, sir).

It doesn't help that the apparently the insides of his thighs are overly sensitive, and the touches feel at once sensual and uncomfortable, sending confusing signals to his brain that cause his muscles to tense and shift. As Erwin presses in, Levi squirms a bit, legs going wider, brows knitting together.

He stares down at Erwin, all golden-haired and blue eyed and stupid fucking gorgeous chiseled features, between his legs. There's a trace of that skittish apprehension, somewhat unsure, but there's also still that faint flush on his cheeks, his gray eyes have grown even darker, and his breath comes in soft, slow pants. There is also, noticeably, a bulge growing beneath dark fabric.

A familiar, funny sort of panic makes his mouth move.

"Giving up on that massage already?" he drawls roughly, although there's not a hint of disappointment. If anything, it sounds like a challenge, and he definitely hasn't pushed Erwin away.