Truly, his husband knows how to take care of him. The mornings always start out the same way when his heat comes around, with a fucking pounding headache like the worst goddamned hangover and his skin over-sensitive, groin aching. At first, he's never in the mood to be touched or even spoken to, hence the snarl and a chucked pillow, but it takes another hour or two before the headache starts to wane and his stomach begins to complain.

First, though, is a shower to take the edge off.

By the time Erwin comes home, the bedroom is already neatly prepared - a veritable lasagna of sheets and large, oversized towels makes it both extra plush and easier for later cleanup; pillows have been double-cased over a waterproof liner; there's a pump bottle each of lotion and lubricant, a container of wet wipes and stack of clean towels, with a laundry basket and trash can within easy reach. A basket of dildos and vibrators and a selection of other toys (eggs? anal beads? cock rings? nipple clamps?
shibari cord? probably all of the above) also has a spot nearby, with an accompanying discard bin to separate used from unused.

Judging by the scent still lingering in the apartment, some of those have already been used more than once today. Whenever it lands on a day that Erwin is out of the house, Levi usually has to get himself off at least twelve times just to keep himself from going completely mad by the time his husband fucking finally gets home. His scent is apparently especially pungent this time; there's been at least four different knocks on the door, all from different Alphas sniffing around and not quite able to keep it in their fucking pants not to at least try to "help." Luckily, he was able to scare them all away.

Still, his need won't be satisfied until Erwin fucks him, until their bond is reaffirmed with their mating. Levi could shove the largest dildo they own into his cunt, spill his own sterile seed as many times as he wants, but it won't make any difference. The arousal always comes back, and the intervals in between orgasm and recover gets shorter the longer the day goes on.

So when Erwin finally walks in the door (earlier than usual, but still not fucking early enough), Levi appears immediately from the bedroom, skin flushed and dark hair slightly damp from an earlier shower - his third of the day. Even with so many washings, it's not enough to keep down his radiating scent. All he's wearing is a pair of loose shorts, low slung on his waist and already with a small tent in the fabric. His gray eyes are dilated wide, heated and intense. He can practically taste Erwin on his tongue, sharp citrus and applewood smoke, aged paper in a leather bound book. It flushes fresh arousal through his veins, makes his sex throb, and he might just really go fucking insane if he can't at least touch skin to skin in the next ten seconds.

Without even so much as a 'welcome home,' Levi's hands are already pulling at his husband's clothing, drawing him in for a demanding kiss, biting at his lips.

"I swear to fuck," he growls, fingers impatiently but expertly working at the knot of Erwin's tie, "next time you're taking the day off."