Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

"I honestly don't know, Levi. But… I have a feeling," I added, meeting his gaze with trust, "that you will know."

Because despite the sharp edges of his personality, a deeper part of me trusted his fierce, unwavering devotion to my well-being. He might push boundaries, test limits, but he would never intentionally cause me harm.

His hands, warm and strong, gripped my hips, lifting them slightly off the mattress. I reached down, and helped him to ease the denim down my legs. Then, with a shared urgency, we fumbled with the buttons and zipper of his trousers.

Suddenly, his thumb pressed directly against my entrance. Fuck. No lubricant.

"Levi, please, stop," I gasped, my hands flailing as I tried to reach the drawer on the nightstand. But the way he was holding me was making it difficult.

"Pulla," he murmured, his voice thick with... confusion. "We engage in sexual activity on a near-daily basis, often multiple times. And you even consumed wine this evening… How can you possibly be so… tight?"

"It's not tightness, Levi, it's dryness," I enunciated slowly and clearly, managing to yank open the drawer and grab the bottle of lubricant. But Levi wasn't having it. He abruptly seized my wrist, and roughly guided my hand down.

"No, Pulla," he insisted. "it truly is tight, feel for yourself, see?"

A soft chuckle escaped my lips. With my free hand, I deftly squeezed a generous amount of lubricant onto my entrance. "My god, Levi," I said, "are you attempting to demonstrate some groundbreaking scientific fact here? Has your mad scientist persona resurfaced, fueled by four glasses of scotch?"

To be perfectly honest, his current insistence was less reminiscent of his intellect and more akin to the bewildered conviction of a slightly tipsy, and sexually inexperienced, chemistry student.

With the generous application of lubricant, Levi finally managed to slide the tip of his thumb inside me. He leaned closer, his gaze intense yet clouded with a hint of drunken bewilderment. "My Pulla," he murmured. "do you truly not find this pleasurable? Look," he insisted, his brow furrowing as he gently moved his thumb within me. "Even now, it remains… too tight for comfortable movement."

"No, Levi," I reassured him, my hand covering his on my hip. "I do like it… I just need a little more time to adjust, that's all."

My attempt to soothe him seemed to resonate. He withdrew his thumb, and with a slightly less hesitant but still somewhat clumsy movement, he slid his middle finger inside, encountering noticeably less resistance. A soft sigh escaped his lips, a hint of relief in the sound, before he leaned down and pressed a kiss to my lips. It was a little off-center, a bit too eager, but there was an undeniable sweetness to its clumsiness.

As he kissed me, his middle finger within me began to move, gradually gaining a little more confidence.

Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips down my jawline. He lingered at the curve of my neck, sucking gently, leaving a damp mark that pulsed with heat. He continued his descent, his mouth moving over my collarbone, his tongue tracing the delicate hollows. Finally, he reached my chest, his lips nuzzling against the soft skin, his breath warm and ragged. He paid particular attention to my nipples, laving and sucking with a fervent intensity. The tugging sensation, combined with his finger still moving within me, sent a jolt of pure sensation through my core. My hands reached up to tangle in his hair, anchoring him closer as a wave of heat washed over me.

He rested his chin on my chest, his gaze fixed on my face with a surprising earnestness.

"Pulla…" he murmured, "the closer you get to the peak… your nipples become more and more… vividly pink."

"Gods, Levi," I groaned, mortification coloring my tone. "You say that every single time, and it's embarrassing."

He tilted his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But… why would it be embarrassing?"

"Look," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the building pleasure, "I understand that concepts like shame and embarrassment are foreign to you, but I experience them.”

"But, Pulla," he protested, "it was intended as a compliment." He punctuated his statement with a sharp bite to my nipple, eliciting a gasp from me.

"A uniquely Levi compliment," I amended, a wry smile playing on my lips. Even in the heat of the moment, his utter lack of social awareness was… endearing. He seemed to catch the amusement in my tone, a matching smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He then shifted his focus, his fingers inside me beginning a scissoring motion, the friction building with each pass as he continued to lavish kisses on my chest, his lips and tongue tracing patterns across my skin.

Despite the insistent heat that was now coiling low in my belly, his touch remained gentle, allowing a strange curiosity to bloom in my mind. The alcohol had seemingly peeled back some of his usual layers of theatricality, creating a rare window into his unfiltered thoughts. Embracing the slight sting of embarrassment, I decided to seize the opportunity.

"Levi…" I began, my voice a little breathless, "How would you feel about… a threesome?"

He lifted his head from where he had been kissing my chest, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that suggested he was calculating the sincerity of my question. After a brief pause, he replied, "I possess no intrinsic interest in sharing intimacy with another individual. However," he continued, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, "if such an arrangement is a genuine desire of yours, then I might be… amenable to exploring the possibility, but only after a thorough and mutually agreeable negotiation."

"Yes," I murmured, a small smile playing on my lips. "Precisely as I suspected."

Only for me. The sheer Levi-ness of that response was overwhelming. Gods, this man.

"No, Levi," I clarified, shaking my head slightly. "It was merely a moment of… curiosity. A fleeting hypothetical."

"Is that so?" he murmured. A flicker of suspicion danced in his eyes. "I distinctly remember a… certain fascination you displayed towards Cassiel on more than one occasion. Hm… Could this sudden surge of 'curiosity' regarding threesomes be… related to that particular attraction?"

"No, Levi, it was merely a casual inquiry," I insisted, trying to sound nonchalant, but the heat rising in my cheeks betrayed my unease. Gods… The man was relentless, a bloodhound with an uncanny memory, even with a considerable amount of alcohol in his system.

"Oh, really?" he drawled, one eyebrow arching. "Tell me, you are acquainted with the jealousy, a sensation that remains utterly foreign to me. This discrepancy leads me to a rather intriguing hypothesis. Were you, perhaps, entertaining the notion of… two dominant partners? And you are undoubtedly aware of Cassiel's… versatile nature. Hm… Pray tell, what was transpiring within that fascinating mind of yours?" His gaze remained fixed on mine, sharp and probing, leaving no room for evasion.

Damn him. His logic is precise. Jealousy -mine- plus attraction to Cassiel -observed- plus the question about a threesome equals a desire for two tops. It's a flawless equation. And... He's not entirely wrong. The thought had crossed my mind. Thɪs chapter is updated by novel·fiɾe·net

"I assure you, Levi," I said, meeting his intense gaze directly, "my question was not an attempt to alter the fundamental structure of our dynamic."

He remained unconvinced. "While I may not be susceptible to the jealousy, I am not immune to the envy. The distinction, I trust, is clear."

"Levi," I said softly, my hand cupping his cheek. "It was truly nothing more than a passing thought, a momentary 'what if' that held no real weight. I am not going to choose anyone over you."

"You misunderstand my meaning entirely," he corrected. "My… assessment of Cassiel was not rooted in a fear of losing you to him. I experience no such illogical anxieties. My… envy," he clarified, "stems from a different source entirely. I envy the ease with which neurotypical individuals, such as yourself, can forge connections, the effortless rush of oxytocin that facilitates bonding. I envy the natural affinity you possess for social interaction, the way others are so readily drawn to you and you to them in return. It is not Cassiel himself I envy, but the inherent human capacity for connection that I… lack."

Envy of connection itself.

"Oh, Levi," I murmured, a wave of unexpected tenderness washing over me. "Levi, I truly understand what you're saying…" I reached out, framing his face with my hands before pulling him closer, wrapping my arms around his neck. He felt stiff at first. I held him tighter, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "But if it offers any solace, your unwavering loyalty and profound devotion, derives from the very core of who you are… that is something even more significant, more profound, than what others might simply call 'love'."

"My loyalty exists, Raphael," he murmured, his voice muffled against my neck, "because… I possess little else of value to offer."

Gods, the sheer tragedy of that statement. It's heartbreaking. He's so intelligent, so capable, so Levi, and yet he devalues himself so completely.

"I know that, in the past, you've perceived your loyalty as a form of compensation, a way to make up for what you believe is a deficit. And, Levi," I continued, my voice firm but gentle, "I might have even believed you if this conversation had transpired months ago, before your time in rehabilitation. But everything is different now, Levi. You told me that. We engage in conflict, we navigate disagreements, because we are actively striving to construct something real, something enduring, built upon the bedrock of honesty and mutual respect. So, Levi, my fierce lion," I said, a hint of a smile touching my lips as tapped his fingers, "enough with the self-pitying rhetoric. Your work awaits."

"Alright, my dear," Levi declared, the brief moment of vulnerability banished. "The lamentations have concluded."

He swiftly withdrew his fingers. His hands clamped onto my thighs, his grip forceful as he yanked me forward, my hips colliding with his groin. Damn it, Levi. He had just had stitches removed; he shouldn't be exerting himself. Ignoring my protest, he liberally coated his already stiff erection with the remaining lubricant.

He paused for a second before, which I answered with a soft moan and a parting of my thighs. With a slow push, he began to enter me. The initial sensation was one of fullness, a stretching pressure that quickly gave way to a deeper, more satisfying slide as the lubricant did its work. He continued to push forward, his hands gripping my thighs, anchoring me as he filled me completely. He remained still for a moment, allowing our bodies to adjust to each other.

Then, the stillness shattered. He began to move, each thrust rocking my hips and sending shivers down my spine. His grip tightened with each deeper push. I found purchase on his shoulders, my fingers digging into the muscles as I met his thrusts, my body arching with each deep slide.

He angled my hips slightly, exploring new depths that sent sharp jolts of pleasure through me. I became less controlled, my body seeking the rhythm he dictated, my hips bucking against his with increasing fervor. The sounds in the room escalated – my whimpers and gasps mingling with Levi's deeper, guttural sounds of exertion.

My breath hitched as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. I could feel the tension coiling within me. He seemed to sense my impending climax.

"Do not… you dare… slow down," I gasped out, the words fragmented by the pressure. The perceptive bastard. Even clouded by alcohol, he possessed an uncanny ability to pinpoint my desires and then… deliberately delay their fulfillment.

"My sweet rabbit," he murmured. A smirk played on his lips as he leaned closer. "You will not be granted the fleeting satisfaction of release until I have had my fill tonight. Do you possess a genuine comprehension of the effect several generous measures of fine scotch have upon one's... libido?"

Gods, I knew precisely what that meant. Hours of exquisite torture, of being brought to the very brink only to be held back.

"So what, Levi," I managed, a hint of breathless challenge in my voice, "are we settling in for a veritable marathon, then?"

The devil simply buried his face in the crook of my neck again, inhaling deeply. "Fret not, my dear Raphael," he murmured against my skin, his breath warm and slightly damp, "you possess the enviable quality of always smelling… delectable, even when thoroughly drenched in the aftermath of our exertions." And without further preamble, he drove himself deeper inside me.

The deep thrust resonated through my core. His hands remained locked on my thighs, his grip firm, controlling my movements as much as his own. He nuzzled at my neck, his lips tracing the skin there, distracting me with soft kisses even as his body continued its rhythm.

Then he set a new tempo. Each stroke was long, stretching me fully before retreating just enough to tease, then plunging deep again. My hands tightened on his shoulders, my head falling back against the pillows as I surrendered to the rhythm. Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, when the tension coiled within me threatened to snap, he would vary his pace, slowing to a torturous crawl, only to surge forward again.

Hours, he had said.

I reached down, just a single touch, a fleeting caress, and I knew I would be undone. But before my fingers could even graze my dick, Levi, the absolute bastard, anticipated my move. He swiftly captured my wrists, yanking them above my head.

"An ill-conceived notion, my dear," he said, his eyes glittering. "Should you entertain the thought of disobedience again, I assure you, I will not hesitate to curtail the very circulation to your precious jewels."

Even in the throes of passion, the control freak in him reigned supreme.

"What are you going to do?" I managed to gasp out, a mixture of defiance and breathless anticipation in my voice.

"Ah, defiance?"

His fingers disappeared into the second drawer of the bedside table. "Now then," he drawled, his voice laced with a dangerous amusement, "shall it be the ribbon, perhaps a delicate restraint to further emphasize your… current predicament? Or would you prefer something more… permanent? The ring, perhaps?"

My God. He was actually considering a cock ring.

A part of me, the ever-submissive part, thrills at the prospect, the complete surrender it would entail. But another part, the part that's teetering on the edge of screaming for release, recoils in horror.

"Stop with your orgasm denial fetish, Levi," I said, the words a plea and a demand all in one. He paused his rummaging, a flicker of amusement in his eyes before he dropped the ring back into the drawer.

"Very well, my dear. If denial is not to your immediate liking… let us explore the opposite end of the spectrum."

His large palm clamped firmly over the head of my cock. Fuck. It was too much, too soon, threatening to send me spiraling out of control in mere seconds.

A strangled cry escaped my lips. My hips bucked against his palm, my back arching off the bed. The pleasure was so sharp, so focused, it bordered on pain, yet I couldn't pull away. Bright flashes of light danced behind my eyelids, and the tension coiled deep within me finally snapped. A guttural roar tore from my throat as wave after wave of intense contractions wracked my body.

"Ah, my poor rabbit," he purred, his voice laced with knowing amusement, "did you manage to steal a moment of pleasure for yourself?"

Without granting me even a single breath to recover, he resumed his movements deep within me, his palm remaining clamped firmly over my tip, the rough friction continuing. My God. Overstimulation was a far more of a torture than denial. It felt as if a thousand tiny needles were pricking the most sensitive nerve endings.

"It's… Gods, Levi… it's too much."

"Is it, now?" he murmured, as he finally retrieved his palm. Just as my lungs greedily seized the opportunity for a single deep breath, a shock of glacial coldness assaulted my cock. The bastard. He had coated my lenght with that infernal lubricant.

It was... bizarre.

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A sensation of fire and ice that sent jolts of pure sensation through my entire being. My breath caught in my throat as my body struggled to process the conflicting signals. I wanted to cry out, to beg him to stop, but the overwhelming sensations stole my voice. The coldness intensified with each thrust, spreading down the shaft of my cock, making it feel both incredibly sensitive and strangely numb at the same time.

"Levi… fuck!" I gasped out, my breath coming in ragged bursts. "It's… it's like… freezing fire… or burning ice…"

I honestly couldn't decipher the conflicting sensations.

"Oh?"

Gods, what new torment was he devising now? He placed his large palm over head of my cock again. But the overstimulation and the frigid lubricant amplified the sensation tenfold. It burned, a raw, chafing heat, yet felt as though it were being exposed to sub-zero temperatures. And now, to add to the exquisite torture, he began to move his palm in circles.

"It's… Gods, Levi… it's simply too much. I… I can't bear it…"

"My sweet rabbit should have perhaps opted for the more… enduring restraint of the ring, hm?"

This… this is a multi-sensory assault. This icy burn, this relentless rubbing after I've already cum… it's designed to break me in a completely different way.

"Levi, damn it!" I choked out. "What is the point of this? What are you trying to prove?"

A masochistic part of me, however, had to concede his point. Perhaps the ring would have been a more measured form of torment.

"Nothing of consequence, my dear Raphael," he purred. "Merely the understandable reaction of a wounded man. A man whose beloved Pulla consistently demonstrates a distinct lack of patience, never deigning to await his pleasure, always rushing headlong into premature satisfaction. And," he punctuated his words with a tight squeeze on my cock, causing a fresh wave of spasms to rip through me, "he even has the audacity to finish… twice."

Wounded man, my ass. He's a vengeful god.

"So this… this is a rather petty act of retribution, then?" I gasped out.

"Hm…" he hummed as he considered my question. "Considering the established parameters of our dynamic, my dear Raphael, I would categorize this as… a rather effective instance of brat taming." And without further warning, he fully withdrew from my body. Then, he plunged back inside me, filling me completely once more.

"You are utterly insufferable, Levi," I choked out, my voice still ragged.

"Please," he murmured, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "do not attempt to feign displeasure, my dear Raphael. The flushed complexion, the tremors… they speak volumes. Let us not forget, Pulla, I was the one who first illuminated the depths of your own masochistic inclinations."

The brat in me wants to fight, to deny him the satisfaction. But the masochist… the masochist is a traitor, a willing participant in this delicious torment.

"Oh, I relish it, do I?" I retorted, my voice still shaky. "Perhaps, you simply derive an inordinate amount of pleasure from the sound of my protests."

He paused completely. "Defiance, my sweet rabbit," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear, "is my very favorite poison. Truly, there is no other elixir that can match its exquisite deliciousness." His teeth closed down my neck. A loud, involuntary moan escaped my lips. That… that actually hurt.

The dramatic bastard. Hurt, yes, but also… undeniably arousing in a way that makes my teeth clench. Well, two can play at that game.

"You mistake my reaction for pain, Levi," I stated, locking onto his eyes with a spark of challenge. "It was merely… surprise at your rather brutish display of affection. Try again, if you dare."

"Still defiant? Truly, delicious."

Before I could anticipate his next move, he slid out of me completely. A gasp escaped my lips. I had momentarily forgotten the untamed strength that sobriety unleashed within him. His hand clamped onto my side, his grip like iron, and with effortless ease, he rolled me over, forcing me onto my hands and knees, my back now presented to him. His hands gripped my hips, yanking them back and molding my backside intimately against his cock. Damn it. This was a position of utter vulnerability, and he knew it.

"You… brute," I gasped out. "This is hardly fair."

"Is it, now?" he murmured, his voice soft against my ear as his hands tightened on my buttocks, squeezing with a sharp pressure that elicited a gasp of surprise. "Hm… perhaps my sweet Raphael has a selective memory. Shall I refresh it? Do you wish me to remind you of the occasion, when you fractured my ribs? Or perhaps the more recent incident, also fueled by a surge of your considerable temper, when you attempted to perforate my delicate flesh with an airsoft projectile?"

Damn… To bring it up now, in this position…

"I am already attending therapy to address my… difficulties with anger management, alright?" I retorted. "And I have expressed my sincere apologies on both of those regrettable occasions, Levi. Multiple times, in fact."

"Ah, look at that," he murmured, a smug satisfaction lacing his tone as he smoothly thrust himself back inside me. "See, my sweet Raphael? You can be a good boy when the inclination strikes you." His hand then slid from my backside to the small of my back, his palm pressing firmly against the curve. "Now, arch your back for me, dear," he commanded, his voice losing its playful edge and taking on a more authoritative tone, "or I shall be more than happy to… encourage your compliance."

Arching my back slightly, I tilted my head. "And what precise form of 'encouragement' did you have in mind this time, Levi?"

"Nothing too elaborate, my dear."

I braced myself, half-expecting a hand to the back of my head, a firm pressure to my spine, forcing me into the desired position. But Levi, the unpredictable devil, rarely adhered to expectations. Instead, he gripped my upper waist, just beneath my ribs. With a brutal yank, he pulled my torso backwards, contorting my body into an extreme arch. My buttocks were now thrust high in the air, completely exposed, while my chest was drawn close to my thighs. A sharp gasp escaped me, a genuine fear seizing my lungs. It felt as if my spine was on the verge of snapping in half.

"It hurts! Release me!"

"Raphael," he said, his voice dripping with amusement, "my hands are not even touching you at this moment. Observe." He lifted his hands, displaying them openly in the dim light.

Oh my god!

He had manipulated my own body, using the force of his initial yank to throw me into this extreme position, and now I was being held here by nothing but the tension in my own muscles.

"You are a complete and utter bastard, through and through, Levi," I spat out, as I eased myself out of that position, finally settling onto my elbows.

"Ah… what a disappointment, my dear Raphael," Levi murmured, a sigh escaping his lips as he began to move within me once more. "To think, less than forty-eight hours have passed since we so established the 'niceness' rule. And yet, here you are, already in flagrant violation. Alas, rules are rules. Expect a philosophical tome of my personal choosing to grace your bedside table by tomorrow morning."

The petty tyranny of this man knows no bounds. All because I called him a bastard. A true and accurate assessment, I might add. But no, rules are rules, and Levi, ever the self-appointed arbiter of our bizarre little world, must impose his intellectual punishment. A carefully curated tome, no doubt designed to bore me into submission.

"My deepest gratitude, Levi, for that… exquisitely erotic suggestion," I replied, as I remained languidly on my elbows, offering little in the way of enthusiastic participation.

"Fear not, my dear Raphael," he murmured, as he settled into a more consistent rhythm. "The vast majority of male philosophers do, indeed, tend to be rather… disgustingly verbose and often utterly devoid of practical application." He deepened his thrusts, the pace gradually increasing, as if to compensate for my lack of enthusiasm.

It was a primal rhythm that began to override my petulance. His breath grew heavier, mirroring my own, and the sounds in the room shifted from murmured words to the rhythmic slap of skin and our increasingly ragged gasps.

He rested his chin on my shoulder, pinning me further into the pillows. My head was tilted back at an uncomfortable angle, but it offered him greater access. "My soft, sweet rabbit." His teeth grazed my shoulder, a stinging bite that made me gasp. "Be a little louder for me."

The brat in me wants to stay silent, to offer him nothing. But the masochist… the masochist feels a thrill at the demand, a perverse desire to obey.

A soft moan slipped past my lips. Levi, the absolute devil, followed his sharp bite with a lick over the tender skin. "Good boy, Pulla," he murmured. Damn it. That combination of pain and pleasure, dominance and tenderness, was pushing me dangerously close to the edge once more. My body was already thrumming.

The mere thought of that palm sent a wave of panic through me.

"Levi… gods, I'm so close… please," I managed to gasp out. He offered no verbal response, instead lifting his chest from my back, momentarily relieving the crushing pressure, only to replace it with a new, even more devastating attack. He began a relentless, deep pace, each thrust driving him further inside me than before, stealing the very air from my lungs with the sheer depth and force.

"Can… I…" I choked out. "Can I… cum?"

"Ah, my recalcitrant Pulla," he finally murmured, a hint of triumph in his voice. "It seems you are finally learning the art of asking." The pause stretched, thick with anticipation. With a forceful thrust, he commanded, "Yes."

My body shattered instantly. A cry ripped from my throat as wave after wave of intense pleasure convulsed through me.

I was completely beyond coherent thought, my body shuddering with the last aftershocks of my release. Levi was mercifully still, allowing my ragged breaths to even out. I felt utterly spent, my limbs heavy and leaden as I collapsed into the mattress.

"My sweet Pulla," he murmured, "I am granting you a brief respite, a moment to gather your strength. But make no mistake, we are far from finished."

I knew he wasn't. The insistent twitching of his cock was undeniable.

"I swear, Levi," I mumbled, my throat dry and scratchy,"I swear… I am going to die from dehydration at this rate…"

Levi withdrew slowly, and reached for the glass water jug beside the bed. He carefully slid an arm beneath my shoulders, lifting my heavy head from the soaked pillow, and guided the glass to my parched lips.

"Thanks…"

"There, there, dear," he murmured softly. He took the soiled pillow beneath my head, and tossed it aside. Then, he adjusted the clean pillow, ensuring my head was resting comfortably. In the next moment, he lay down beside me, and wrapped a protective arm around my waist, pulling me close against his warm body.

Just moments ago, I was convinced I was on the brink of dehydration and spinal collapse. Now, I'm being cradled like something precious. My responsible, tender lion indeed. Even if that lion has a penchant for philosophical torture.

"If you had finally reached your own… conclusion with me, Levi," I murmured, burrowing deeper into his chest, "we could now simply cuddle and perhaps even enjoy a few hours of uninterrupted sleep."

"Ah, Pulla," he murmured, his hand gently stroking my hair, "the four generous glasses of scotch I indulged in earlier tend to… complicate the pursuit of a swift release. And as you are intimately aware, I possess a particular fondness for the pleasure of a slow burn."

"So what exactly is your point, Levi?" I asked, tilting my head back slightly to look up at him. "Did your much-vaunted drunken haze suddenly dissipate?"

"Ah, yes," he confirmed, a hint of amusement in his tone. "That particular fog lifted a considerable time ago. I had anticipated behaving somewhat differently, perhaps with a touch more… unguarded spontaneity. However," he continued, his arms tightening slightly around me, "it appears we have rather seamlessly gravitated back to our familiar and, dare I say, rather compelling dynamic."

"Yeah…" I murmured, my voice still thick with exhaustion, "I was rather anticipating a different sort of evening myself. But, well, here we are," I conceded, his embrace starting to lull me towards sleep.

"We can certainly dedicate a future occasion to exploring the uncharted territories of my inebriated state, my dear," he purred, his hand stroking the curve of my buttock.

"What exactly is with your recent… fascination with my butt?" I asked, a hint of amusement coloring my weary tone.

"My dear Raphael," he replied, his caress growing slightly more insistent. “Why on earth would I not find such artistry utterly captivating? It possesses the most admirable dimensions, a perfectly sculpted form, a delightful firmness that yields just so to the touch, and a surprising softness in all the right places. And that subtle, elegant curve, my dear? Utterly divine." His fingers traced the very lines he described.

A warmth spread across my neck and cheeks. "Don't… don't say things like that," I mumbled, trying to sound annoyed.

"Why ever not?" he murmured. "Besides, I hardly believe mere words are necessary to convey the depth of my appreciation for such… exquisite beauty."

"You know it affects me when you say things like that," I admitted softly.

"Indeed, I do, dear," he murmured. "Have you taken your breather, my sweet Pulla? I gather a more… considerate approach is desired at this juncture?" He rested his chin on my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck.

"Yeah… please. Be nice," I whispered, the word a soft plea. In response, Levi's hand moved from my buttock to my leg, stroking it before pulling me closer against his side, molding our bodies together.

"I will be gentle," he promised. And true to his word, he began to push himself back inside me, in a reverent joining.

His fingers then began to trace soft patterns on my back, a feather-light touch that was incredibly soothing. I found myself nuzzling closer, seeking the warmth and security of his embrace, the earlier tension in my body slowly melting away.

"Pulla," Levi murmured softly against my ear, "I'm going to move a little deeper now, hm?"

"Okay…"

His hand, slid down the curve of my spine, settling firmly on my buttock. As he began to move, the deeper access was apparent, a more profound connection that resonated through my core.

He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting the angle, as if seeking more perfect fit.

"This… feels good, Levi." I murmured, my voice soft and slightly breathy as I reached my arms up and around his neck, my fingers tangling in his hair. I pulled him closer, my cheek resting against his warm skin, my eyelids drifting shut in contentment.

"Yes, dear," he responded, the warmth of his breath a soft caress. He maintained his slow but deep pace within me, each movement a gentle, rhythmic pulse that resonated through my entire being.

"A touch more quickly now, dear?" Levi murmured, the shift in his tone hinting at a building urgency.

"Wait," I said, a sudden impulse seizing me. I pulled myself out of his embrace. Bracing my hands on the mattress, I stradded his hips, preparing to sit astride him.

His strong hands immediately clamped onto my waist. "Do not put your full weight on me, dear."

"Right," I breathed out. Instead of sitting, I crouched above him, my knees bent, hovering just above his lap. "You can move now, Levi," I said, placing my hands flat on the bed on either side of his shoulders.

His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements to match his rising urgency. Each upward surge was deeper, more insistent, the friction building to a fever pitch. I could feel the pulse of his erection against my sensitive core, a drumbeat urging me closer to the edge. I braced my arms on the bed, my breath coming in short gasps.

A strangled cry tore from Levi's throat as his hips bucked powerfully against mine. A few more shuddering thrusts, his grip tightened to the point of bruising as he poured himself into me. With a gasp, my climax shattered through me. My body convulsed around his, a primal scream trapped in my throat. My grip on the bed tightened as my hips bucked, my head falling back as the pleasure consumed me.

Reluctantly, Levi’s grip on my hips loosened, his body gradually relaxing beneath me. The world swam back into focus, the earlier frantic energy now replaced by a heavy, sated exhaustion. I collapsed against his chest, the remnants of the intense pleasure still thrumming through my veins.

With a soft, wet sound, I slid myself out of him, his pearlescent release trailing down my thighs and pooling on the damp sheets beneath me. "Gods, Levi…" I gasped, my breath still coming in ragged bursts, "Why can't you ever just… finish at a reasonable hour? It's nearly dawn…" I collapsed back onto the mattress beside him, utterly spent. Every muscle in my body ached, my limbs heavy and leaden.

He settled his warm palm on my buttock once more, his fingers kneading the tired muscles. "I have been rather… restrained this past week, my dear Raphael," he murmured. "This is the longest I have denied myself the pleasure of your company, mind you. And my sweet rabbit…" he punctuated his words with a soft squeeze, "while I am not entirely sated, I will endeavor to comply with your evident exhaustion."

"Absolutely no way am I going for a second round with you, Levi," I declared. "I swear, I'd be shooting blanks."

He chuckled softly. "Ah, it is quite alright, dear. But you cannot simply succumb to slumber just yet. We both require a shower, and these… well-used bedsheets necessitate a change."

"I am not moving a single inch, Levi," I insisted, my body feeling like it was made of lead. "Absolutely no way am I going anywhere near that shower."

Levi’s middle finger slid back inside. "My dear Raphael," he murmured, his voice a persuasive caress, "it is still… rather evident that you require cleansing as well. Come now, indulge me in this small request."

Showering is the last thing I want to do, but the sensation of him inside me again, however fleeting, makes the prospect slightly less abhorrent. Gods, I'm so predictable. He doesn't even have to raise his voice; a gentle touch and a persuasive murmur are enough to chip away at my resolve. Fine. A quick rinse. Just to shut him up.

"Ugh…" I groaned. Levi was already in motion. His finger slid out, and he rose from the bed. "Come now, dear," he said, his voice gentle as he reached down and pulled me up by my arms. Another groan escaped me, but I allowed him to guide my wobbly legs towards the shower.

...

"You know," I murmured, leaning heavily against his chest, "what I really want is a bathtub, Levi…"

"Hm…" he mused, his fingers working through my hair. "A bathtub, you say? Perhaps even a hot tub in the back garden, too?" he suggested, his tone thoughtful as he continued to help me wash.

Is he actually considering it? Or is this just post-coital sweet talk? But the image of us both, unwinding in warm, bubbly water under the night sky… it's a tempting one.

"Yeah?" I murmured, leaning further into his touch. "It would be really cool actually, Levi. Especially right now… all my muscles are screaming for some kind of warm soak." I tilted my head back, looking up at him through the steamy air. "But it makes me wonder… why doesn't this house have any bathtubs, or a jacuzzi, or, I dunno, anything remotely relaxing in general?"

Levi paused in his gentle washing, his brow furrowing slightly. "Hm… I never particularly thought I needed such things, nor did I actively seek them out. Also," a faint shadow crossed his features, "I spent the entirety of my childhood and early adolescence being bathed in bathtubs by maids, as was customary for a child of my station. It wasn't… a pleasant experience, being handled so intimately without any real agency. However," he continued, his gaze softening as he looked at me, "I admit that perhaps this house, as it currently is, is not entirely suited to your preferences and needs. So, yes, indeed, we can certainly make arrangements to install a bathtub. And a hot tub in the back garden, too."

"That… actually sounds really unpleasant, Levi," I murmured. "It makes a lot of sense why the idea of soaking in a tub wouldn't exactly appeal to you now…"

"It is quite alright, dear," he said, his hands rinsing the remaining soap bubbles from both of our bodies. "Come now," he continued, reaching for the bathrobes hanging on the hook behind the door, "let's dry ourselves and seek some much-needed rest."

He took one of the thick robes from the hook and held it open for me. As I stepped out of the shower's warmth and into the soft embrace of the terrycloth, he reached for the other robe, shrugging it on with a fluid movement.

Once my hair was damp but not dripping, he draped the towel around my shoulders. Taking my hand, he led me out of the steamy bathroom and back towards the bedroom. He pulled the spare set of linens from the closet and began to remake the bed. I watched him for a moment, the exhaustion pulling at me, before collapsing onto the freshly made side of the bed. Levi soon joined me, settling in beside me and pulling the covers up to our chins. The room was quiet, save for our slow, even breathing. He reached out a hand and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from my forehead. "Good night, dear."