Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

Obviously. A wave of bitter self-hatred was currently enveloping me, clinging to me like a suffocating shadow. Was it… inherently wrong of me to miss my family? Was that a betrayal of my hard-won identity? The fuck. I was spiraling again, projecting external expectations onto my own messy emotions.

"You have absolutely no comprehension of the overwhelming temptation I'm currently experiencing to just… waterboard myself with that entire bottle of vodka, Levi. Please…" I pleaded, "just… make the relentless noise in my brain finally stop."

"Ah, Raph is sad," Finn observed with a warm, almost sunny smile that, in my current state, felt offensively cheerful. "Yeah, man, something to lift us up would be really nice," he added.

Finn, you oblivious, relentlessly optimistic golden retriever. You have absolutely no idea the depths of your own underlying sadness, which is precisely why you radiate this infuriating, unwavering happiness. My god, I'm being a complete asshole again. Fuck you, Raphael. You obviously despise yourself so much that you can't help but lash out at everyone around you. I had deluded myself into thinking I was the golden retriever in Levi's life, a little ray of sunshine in his often-shadowed world, but the crushing reality was, my constant insecurities and self-absorption had likely only amplified his inherent sense of isolation.

Perhaps… perhaps it would genuinely be better for him if this entire marriage had never happened.

Shit.

What am I thinking? I'm doing it again. I'm retreating into self-pity and pushing him away with my toxic thoughts. I'm being a fucking coward again. And being cruel to Levi, yet again. Fuck you, Raphael. You utterly pathetic piece of shit.

"Alright, gentlemen," Levi announced. "Let us commence the third, and final act of our little… exploration." He then gestured with a subtle nod towards a nearby waste bin. "From this point onward, should the need to… expel any lingering truths or botanical after-effects arise, please avail yourselves of the receptacle provided." With a casual flick of his shoe, he nudged the bin closer to our vicinity.

Next, he reached for the bank of light switches near the bar. Instead of the usual warm glow, the room was bathed in a slow, shifting spectrum of LED hues. The lights cycled gently through red, blue, green, magenta, and cyan, a rhythm that wasn't overwhelming but possessed a subtle, awakening quality. Since the blinds still obscured the outside world, the open expanse of the kitchen and living room had now transformed into our own private, softly pulsating party.

Yeah. I definitely needed that vodka. Something sharp and potent to cut through the lingering fog of self-recrimination. A jolt to the system.

Finn, on the other hand, seemed utterly captivated by the shifting luminescence. "Wow…" he breathed out. He was probably seeing the pretty colors and completely oblivious to the emotional wreckage surrounding him. Lucky bastard.

Levi poured generous measures of vodka, followed by vibrant splashes of cranberry juice and orange juice, stirring the mixture with a slender spoon. A simple but elegant twist of lime perched on the rim of each glass.

Before handing them over, however, he retrieved a smaller, dark glass bottle from the bar counter. It was unlabeled, its contents a viscous liquid that swirled slowly as he tilted it. He held it up, a faint, intriguing aroma – a blend of overripe fruit and something subtly spicy – drifting towards us. "And now," he announced, a slight glint in his eye, "a little… augmentation. This is a highly potent fruit liquor, distilled through methods best left unexamined. It will, I assure you, make you see stars, should you so desire. Tell me, gentlemen, are you feeling adventurous enough for a touch?" He paused, his gaze sweeping between Finn and me. "Mind you, when I say highly potent, gentlemen, I mean highly potent. Approach with… respect."

"You make this yourself, Levi? What's the base fruit? It smells... unique. Yeah, I'm game for a little adventure," Finn said, his eyes wide with genuine curiosity, sparkling as he gazed at the bottle. Was the fanboy in him resurfacing again, starry-eyed in the presence of Levi's enigmatic aura? Wipe your drool, man. Stop metaphorically polishing his dick.

"I cannot claim the artistry of its distillation, no," Levi replied. "It was gifted to me, some time ago, by a rather… enigmatic acquaintance of mine. As for the base fruit… well, that should remain a delightful little surprise, wouldn't you agree?"

"Anything," I mumbled, the words barely audible, "anything at all to just… silence the relentless screaming in my head. Just make it stop. And… please, Levi… I'm… I'm feeling rather fragile right now. So, perhaps… go a little gentle on me with that… concoction."

Levi nodded slowly. A deep ruby liquid cascaded into our vibrant orange drinks, creating swirling vortexes of red against the citrus hues. He then stirred the mixture with a ritualistic motion. "Here you go, gentlemen," he said, his voice low and even as he presented the beautiful drinks.

Finn and I cautiously took our first sips. Initially, a bright wave of citrus sweetness washed over my tongue, quickly followed by a sugary rush. Then, the burn of the vodka hit, but lurking beneath those initial flavors was a creeping, insidious heat. A proper fire was steadily enveloping my entire mouth, spreading down my throat like molten lava. He wasn't kidding. This stuff was truly potent. Gods. I could only fervently hope that its promised 'star-seeing' capabilities would extend to a blissful, temporary oblivion of my own miserable existence. My eyes watered slightly from the heat, and a faint sheen of sweat broke out on my forehead.

"Citrusy at first, then BAM! Hello, fire! I like it. Definitely wakes you up. Feels like it's chasing away the gloom, Raph, you feel that?" Finn asked, his gaze bright and expectant, clearly wanting me to share his enthusiasm.

"Yeah," I conceded, a slight warmth spreading through my chest. "Highly potent is… an accurate descriptor. Like, genuinely potent. Not that lingering, creeping capsaicin burn, but a proper, swift fire of the ethanol."

My god, Raphael, you self-sabotaging asshole, just offer your friend a simple affirmative. He's trying to connect.

Finn and I both took another, slightly more enthusiastic sip of Levi's potent concoction. The initial fiery assault on my taste buds was giving way to a strange, burgeoning warmth spreading through my veins. And then it hit me – not a wave of lingering self-loathing, but an overwhelming, almost embarrassing urge to… embrace something. Or perhaps even, to be brutally honest, to engage in some vigorous humping. My god. Was this actually happening? The ridiculously cliché 'vodka makes you horny' trope playing out in real-time? Had three sips of this fiery elixir truly banished my self-hate and replaced it with a burgeoning boner? What in the actual fuck was wrong with me?

Was I... neurotic?

Levi began to clean the bar counter, his focus entirely on the task at hand. He efficiently gathered the remnants of our earlier concoctions – the discarded fruit rinds, the empty glasses – and with a purposeful stride, carried them into the kitchen to dispose of them. Gods, Levi should absolutely fuck me right here, on this very counter. Shut up, brain. What the actual fuck are you even saying? I mean, he would be down for some clowning around anytime. Me too, frankly. Shut up! Just moments ago you were convinced he should divorce your pathetic ass, and now you're vividly imagining him spreading you out on this cold surface, his fingers digging into your thighs… Shut up, shut up, shut up.

The warmth that had begun in my belly now seemed to be spreading like wildfire, igniting a blush that crept up my cheeks, down my neck, across my ribcage, and, predictably, settling with insistent pressure in my groin. I was profoundly grateful for the pervasive red glow of the lights. At least it offered a modicum of camouflage for my sudden and rather embarrassing descent into base urges.

Levi turned back from the kitchen, but my attention was immediately snagged by the bizarre tableau unfolding before me.

Finn…

Oh my god, what in the actual hell was happening?

Finn had just slid himself off the bar stool with the awkward grace of a child clumsily dismounting a too-tall chair and was now lumbering towards Levi. He reached him and, without a word, wrapped his arms tightly around Levi's ribcage, squeezing him in an earnest, full-bodied hug. Was this some kind of hallucinatory side effect of that kava concoction? I rubbed my eyes vigorously, trying to dispel the image. No. No, it was undeniably happening. Finn was genuinely hugging Levi, his eyes squeezed shut, a look of utter, serene bliss plastered across his face. Was this just peak-level fanboy behavior finally manifesting in physical form?

Levi, for his part, was visibly and hilariously confused. His arms were held aloft, bent at the elbows, as if he were trying to avoid actually touching Finn. His brow was furrowed in a deep, perplexed frown, his gaze fixed with bewildered intensity on the top of Finn's head.

Finn was now audibly mumbling something into Levi's chest. "You smell so good, man," he slurred, his embrace tightening slightly. "What is that… sandalwood?"

I was going to combust from either secondhand embarrassment so intense it was physically painful, or a genuine, uncontrollable eruption of laughter that would likely shatter the already fragile atmosphere.

Levi remained stiff, his discomfort radiating off him in palpable waves, but his voice regained its usual calm cadence. "Sandalwood? It would seem your olfactory senses have become somewhat… dulled, Finn. Additionally," he added, his tone firm yet devoid of harshness, "a modicum more personal space would be greatly appreciated at this juncture." His arms remained suspended in mid-air.

Finn, however, seemed utterly oblivious to Levi's subtle, and not-so-subtle, cues. He continued to cling. "Man…" he mumbled, "you are a walking, talking hero… And you did all of that… without a single drop of blood… Is that why you did it without blood? You know… to gain…" Finn trailed off, his brow furrowing in an apparent struggle to articulate his convoluted thought.

"Gain what, Finn?" Levi interjected, a sharp edge now creeping in. "Approval? Please. As if I would ever deign to seek the validation of neurotypicals. I have, quite literally, rewritten their entire understanding of existence in a single day. Their petty approval is as relevant to me as the mating rituals of deep-sea mollusks." Thıs text ıs hosted at novel·fiɾe·net

Did he just compare seeking approval to… deep-sea mollusks? Yep, he did. Either way, this is a train wreck I can't look away from. And the irony of me, Mr. 'Avoid Confrontation at All Costs,' being a captive audience to this monumental display of social ineptitude is not lost on me. Also… still horny.

"But… if you didn't want approval…" Finn persisted, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion, "...then why do it at all? Just 'cause you could? That's… that's like a superpower! You're like a super-genius hero! You did good!" Finn's eyes were sparkling with admiration, his words tumbling out in a rush of sincere praise. Wow. Is this what Levi meant by 'see the stars'? Finn's head has officially exploded into a galaxy of hero worship. I could feel the heat radiating off Levi, his internal combustion reaching a critical temperature. I wouldn't be surprised if he combusted or desperately reached for a cigarette.

Levi's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching in his cheek as he processed Finn's earnest pronouncements, the word 'good' seeming to grate on his very being.

"I did it, Finn," he stated, his voice low and controlled, "because I could. Not because I harbored some sentimental attachment to any single homo sapiens inhabiting this pale blue dot. Your inherently limited moral compass, a construct inextricably bound to your neurotypical mind, is pathetically incapable of grasping a fundamental truth. I did not perform some altruistic act of 'good.' Instead of whining and futile tears, I acted. That is the entirety of it. I dismantled that monarchy because I possessed the capacity to do so. A capacity which, if any other sentient being possessed, they would undoubtedly utilize, though, tragically for them, they cannot, but most assuredly would."

Buckle up, Finn, you're about to get a crash course in detached, intellectual superiority. 'Pale blue dot' – check. Dismissal of empathy – check. Veiled insult – double-check. And honestly? A tiny, cynical part of me kind of gets it. The honesty of 'I did it because I could' is almost… admirable. My horniness is still there.

"Okay, okay, no 'good.' Got it," Finn said, nodding with what he likely believed was understanding, though it probably missed the nuance by a country mile. "You just… did. Because you're the only one who could. That makes you even more of a hero in my book! The hero who doesn't even care about being a hero!" he beamed.

Finn is going to get verbally eviscerated. And he's still clinging to Levi like a barnacle.

"I am not a savior," Levi stated, his voice laced with icy impatience, "nor a hero, nor a villain, nor anything else your dense skull is capable of conjuring. I am simply a man who enjoys… elegant solutions to complex problems. Do not even dare to apply those simplistic, disgusting, black and white nouns and adjectives to my person."

His ego, vast and untroubled, was now on full, unapologetic display. And gods, it was undeniably… compelling. The confidence, the utter lack of need for external validation… it was reaching a whole new level of… arousal for me. I took another, perhaps too eager, sip of my libido-boosting cocktail.

"Elegant solutions! That's even cooler! You're like a super-smart puzzle solver who saves the world as a hobby!" Finn declared, his admiration reaching a fever pitch as he squeezed Levi in a slightly tighter hug. Wow. Talk about a full-blown fanboy moment. I wouldn't be surprised if he whipped out a crumpled napkin and a pen any second now, demanding an autograph. Maybe he already had, for all I knew.

Levi lifted his gaze heavenward, a silent plea for cosmic intervention etched on his features. I could see the internal debate raging within him: should he attempt to further elucidate his complex worldview to the blissfully ignorant Finn, or simply resort to brute force, perhaps prying Finn's limbs off and then attempting to drown his effusive praise in a generous application of vodka? Well, I was clearly wrong in my initial assessment of his next move. Levi slid his phone from his back pocket.

"Finn, dear," he inquired, his voice gentle as the camera app sprang to life on his screen, framing Finn's adoring face, "tell me, what precisely is it that you find so… endearing about my person?"

I couldn't stifle the choked laughter that bubbled up in my chest.

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Finn, utterly lost in his admiration, burrowed his face even deeper into Levi's chest, his voice muffled. "Who doesn't love you, Levi? You're the Saint! Also, you're so smart, you seem to know everything, you always have a plan, you always know exactly what to do…" He paused, inhaling deeply. "And you always smell so clean! Seriously, tell me your cologne, where do you even buy it? Also, your philanthropic work wasn't just some token donations and fancy galas, you actually fundamentally changed lives in this country. And even after that colossal screw-up of mine, you know, when I punched you – gods, I am still so incredibly sorry about that – you didn't seem to care at all. You maintained this completely professional air, making absolutely sure nothing impeded our work… You know, when you went away for rehab… those two months? Everything just completely fell apart. We were practically begging massive corporations to lend us their managerial staff, or we were even reduced to pleading with other nations to help us understand our own damn laws, Levi. Then you came back… In less than two weeks, bam! Archaic laws were gone. Then the currency change happened. Then the presidential election was smoothly orchestrated. Even though the entire staff was basically surviving on instant coffee, and you had to personally oversee every single minute detail… you still did it, man. And I know you didn't do all of that for the pathetic government salary or some kind of recognition. No one willingly enters government work for the money; it's the absolute worst. It's mind-numbingly boring. You did it. Because you wanted to. You are truly amazing, Levi."

Oh, sweet gods. This is… surprisingly heartfelt. And also incredibly awkward to witness. Finn, you absolute golden retriever, you're laying it all out there, aren't you? But… he's not wrong. Levi did swoop in and fix everything when it was a complete dumpster fire. He's… impressive, isn't he? Even when he's being a condescending prick about neurotypicals.

Levi continued to hold his phone steady. His voice, however, had adopted a tone of almost silken calm. "Thank you for acknowledging my work, Finn. And please, do not trouble yourself further regarding the physical altercation; your apologies have been duly noted and processed. Now, dear Finn…" he continued, the gentleness in his voice almost unnerving, "would you be so kind as to release me?"

"I don't want to," Finn mumbled, his grip remaining firm.

Ah… That was it. Levi's calmness was a tactic. He was lulling him into a deeper state of unguarded sincerity, crafting an even more embarrassing piece of blackmail material. The long game, as always, was Levi's preferred strategy.

Do I intervene in this awkward, slow-motion train wreck? Nah, can't be bothered. Levi is clearly deriving some perverse pleasure from this display, and frankly, a small part of me is enjoying the spectacle.

"Please?"

"Okay, man, I am sorry…" Finn mumbled, his voice thick with a sudden wave of sadness. He unwrapped his arms from Levi's chest, a visible droop in his shoulders. Levi smoothly ended the recording on his phone and returned to the bar counter, his gaze meeting mine with a distinct glint of amusement. The Devil incarnate. He was broadcasting his silent commentary – look how easily I manipulated that awkwardness for my own entertainment, come, Raphael, embrace the delicious darkness with me. Little did he suspect, I had already taken up permanent residence on that particular side of the moral spectrum. Recording your friends' drunken escapades? Honestly, who doesn't indulge in a little blackmail-in-the-making?

Finn eased himself onto the stool with the same awkward, toddler-like maneuver as before, plopping down with a soft thump. He took a mournful sip of his potent drink, his earlier blissful expression now replaced by a palpable sadness. My god… it was so utterly, ridiculously funny. Even I, his own husband, don't subject Levi to prolonged, uninvited physical contact like that.

"Finn," Levi inquired, his voice retaining its unnervingly calm tone, "do you perhaps… wish to stay and rest here for the night?"

What? Was this a veiled threat, a prelude to some form of subtle psychological torment? Or was Levi, in his own peculiar way, actually extending a gesture of… kindness? I honestly couldn't decipher his intentions.

"Nah…" Finn mumbled, "I don't wanna bother…" He looked utterly dejected. Shit. A snort of laughter escaped my lips. The tragedy of Finn's unrequited affection, coupled with the absurdity of the entire situation, was just too much to contain. It was so sad, and therefore, so funny.

"Levi…" I began, trying to suppress another snort at Finn's utterly crestfallen expression, "I am certainly not denying your comedic genius in this… unprecedented social interaction, but perhaps a touch more… gentleness? Look at the poor man, he resembles a particularly bedraggled and emotionally traumatized rat that has fallen into a bucket of water."

Levi's lips twitched. "Do not concern yourself unduly," he replied. "Finn, dear, if you manage to finish your drink, I will, as a special concession, allow you to borrow my helicopter for your journey back home."

Wait. What? His helicopter? That was either incredibly kind or incredibly… Levi.

"Wow, you are so cool, Levi…" Finn breathed out, his sadness completely forgotten. "But…" he added, his brow furrowing, "I don't actually know how to ride a helicopter."

A truly loud, unrestrained, and booming laugh erupted from me. Fucking idiot. What in the actual hell had he been imagining? Levi casually tossing him the keys to an aircraft with the breezy instruction, "Have fun, don't crash"?

Levi's eyebrows were twitching, betraying his struggle to suppress a smile. "I was, quite obviously, not under the delusion that you possessed a pilot's license, Finn," he said, a hint of amusement still lingered beneath the surface. "Nor, for that matter, do I possess one myself. I have, naturally, a hired professional pilot for such… excursions."

Finn, took a large gulp of his drink. "Sorry, man," he mumbled, a slightly green tinge now creeping into his complexion, "the alcohol's definitely done a number on me. I momentarily forgot how you… well, you guys have a personal helicopter on speed dial. But seriously, thank you so much, Levi. Although…" His brow furrowed, and he subtly leaned forward, a hand clutching his stomach. "High altitude might be a little… bad… idea…"

Oh no. I knew that look. That was the unmistakable prelude to a projectile evacuation of his stomach. Finn was going to puke. And judging by the trajectory, it was going to be unpleasant.

Instinctively, I shot my arms up, intending to guide Finn, at the very least, towards the leafy houseplant in the corner. But Levi, moved. That unassuming waste bin he'd nudged towards us earlier with his shoe? With a kick, he maneuvered it until it was positioned directly beneath Finn’s rapidly descending head. And then Finn wretched, the contents of his stomach erupting into the waiting receptacle. Well… once again, I found myself grateful for the shifting LED lights. Though, I couldn't shake the distinct impression that there was a disturbing violet tinge to it, likely a vibrant memento of our earlier kava experiment. Once the retching subsided, Levi calmly poured a glass of water and placed it on the bar counter. I wasn't disgusted, not particularly. I placed a hand on Finn’s trembling back. Which was a rather bizarre concept, when you really thought about it. How exactly does one offer support during the act of vomiting? A comforting pat? A sympathetic groan?

Finn lifted his head, his face pale and his eyes watery. "Ugh…" he groaned, a sound of pure misery. Levi wordlessly offered him a neatly folded, clean towel. Finn gratefully accepted it and dabbed at his mouth and chin, a subtle flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. Though, knowing Finn, a significant portion of his alcohol-addled brain was likely fixated on the catastrophic social blunder he'd just committed: Shit. I just puked in the Saint of Ascaria's house.

"Sorry, guys…" Finn mumbled again, the embarrassment radiating off him in waves.

"Don't even worry about it, man," I said with a dismissive shrug. "You managed to hit the bin. That's a win in my book." Seriously. The alternative was Finn projectile vomiting directly onto Levi. Knowing Levi's deep-seated misanthropy, that act would have likely triggered a full-scale lockdown of this house. We'd probably be facing motion-sensing turrets and possibly even a sophisticated laser grid designed to vaporize any future purveyors of bodily fluids who dared to approach.

"You're right, you're right. Could've been way worse. Thanks for the perspective, Raph," Finn mumbled, offering a weak smile. Aw… he was still mortified. He really did resemble a sodden rodent. I clapped him gently on the back. “Don't worry about it, man," I reassured him, trying to sound more comforting than sarcastic for once. "Honestly, no one in their right mind concocts drinks this potent without anticipating the possibility of vomiting. It's practically part of the experience."

Finn offered a green-tinged smile. Well… I had a feeling this episode of hugging and throwing up would be etched into the annals of his memory for all eternity. I'd even managed a semi-genuine moment of reassurance; perhaps I wasn't a complete asshole after all. That blackmail video Levi surreptitiously recorded? It suddenly felt a little less amusing. Wow. Was I… really neurotic? I would definitely be unpacking this newfound moral quandary with my therapist later.

A brief respite followed, and then Finn began to cough, a dry, hacking rattle deep within his chest.

"My… throat burns!" he gasped, his eyes wide with alarm and watering profusely. Ow. Shit… I knew that burning sensation. That specific agony. Capsaicin. FUCK!

Levi returned swiftly, a glass of cold milk in his hand. Finn gratefully snatched the glass and gulped down it entirely. He let out a contented sigh, relief washing over his face. "There is absolutely no way," he declared, his voice still a little hoarse, "that I am ever again consuming alcohol that tastes like it's been brewed in the fiery depths of hell. Ever."

"You're not grasping the full scope of this predicament, Finn," I exclaimed. "This isn't over! We still have the grand finale! We are going to pee this fire out! This diabolical genius, Levi! He has inflicted a burning agony upon us all!"

Finn's eyes widened again, with pure terror. He offered no verbal response, his mouth hanging slightly agape. Then, in a hushed whisper, he simply uttered, "Shit."

"Yeah, 'shit' is putting it mildly, my friend!" I yelled, my voice rising in pitch. "We are essentially facing a slow, fiery internal combustion! And you dumb Ascarians! You don't even have bidets! Why?"

Oops.

Did that sound… a tad… geographically prejudiced? Had the alcohol, capsaicin-induced anxiety, and general stress just made me… racist? That was a new low, even for me.

"What is a bidet?" Finn asked. "Also… Oh my god… It is going to burn so much!" he wailed.

What is a bidet? What is a bidet? Isn't that just… basic hygiene? Maybe… just maybe… in this extreme, capsaicin-induced crisis, I was entitled to a tiny bit of cultural superiority. Yeah… wait a minute. No. Was this the alcohol still sloshing around in my system?

"My god," I exclaimed, my voice laced with genuine disbelief and a hint of horror, "you just… wipe your ass with dry paper after shitting?"

"Duh, obviously," Finn replied, his brow furrowing in confusion. "What? Was I not supposed to?"

"No, man! The proper procedure involves washing with water first, then wiping to dry!" I insisted, feeling a surge of righteous indignation on behalf of all things hygienically sound.

"Why? We use wet wipes, man! Why the double water action? Also," he added, as if this were the ultimate trump card in the hygiene debate, "sometimes I just take a shower afterwards."

Hm… Wet wipes. That actually made a modicum of sense. Levi did have those in the bathroom, the same bathroom where I had installed a portable bidet attachment. But showering every single time after a bowel movement? Fuck off. I was not buying that for a second. Maybe… just maybe… my initial assessment of Ascarian hygiene was a tad prejudiced. Man… prejudice was a scary, and often misinformed, beast.

"The efficiency of various post-defecation cleansing methods is, ultimately, a matter of personal preference and prevailing cultural norms," Levi stated, his voice devoid of any inflection that might betray a personal opinion. "Neither method is inherently superior to the other, provided a satisfactory level of hygiene is consistently maintained."

Boo. The logical and utterly arbitrary concept of equality had spoken. In my deeply held opinion, the bidet was the gold standard of posterior cleanliness. But... Given my recent brush with accidental prejudice, coupled with the rather pressing matter of my home country currently tearing itself apart in a devastating civil war, perhaps now was not the opportune moment to launch a crusade for universal bidet adoption.

My god, the ingrained cultural assertiveness of Cyrusia ran deep. I had been mere moments away from launching a full-scale bidet evangelization campaign on these unsuspecting individuals. It seemed that no matter how much one intellectually rejected their origins, certain cultural imprints remained stubbornly etched within. Sadly, mine had chosen to resurface during a rather bizarre discussion on post-excrement hygiene. Well… the universe clearly possessed a penchant for elaborate and often scatological pranks. Tomorrow's capsaicin-induced urination would undoubtedly be another highlight reel moment in this cosmic comedy. Fuck.

Eventually, the bidet debate faded into the background, and we continued to work our way through the vodka, the alcohol now taking firm hold. I was teetering precariously on the edge of sleep. Finn, having already contributed his stomach's contents to the evening's festivities, wisely opted for sobriety. Levi saw him off, and Finn, perhaps still traumatized by the near-helicopter experience, decided a taxi would be the most sensible mode of transportation.

Levi returned, efficiently cleaned the bar area, and discreetly disposed of the biohazard bin bag. Then he helped me off the bar stool. He effortlessly scooped me up, carrying me towards the master bedroom, my body leaning into the warmth and strength of his embrace. The moment his warm, muscular arms enveloped me, horniness decided to make a rather enthusiastic reappearance.

"Levi…" I murmured, my fingers already fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. "Come here," I breathed, tugging gently. Levi, with a quiet sigh, obliged, laying down beside me on the soft mattress. I immediately shifted closer, wrapping my arms around him. "So hot," I mumbled, pressing my hips insistently against his. Yep. The vodka had definitely bypassed my usual inhibitions and directly activated my primal humping instincts.

Levi, his hand stroking my hair, let out chuckle. "Dear, I think perhaps you should simply… succumb to the sleep now, hmm?"

"I don't want to," I murmured, my arms tightening around his chest, pressing myself closer against him. "Please… I am so incredibly horny."

"I can certainly tell, dear," he replied. "I am simply pointing out that engaging in any significant vertical movement at this moment might lead to… unforeseen and rather unpleasant consequences."

"Yeah," I conceded with a groan. "Me vomiting is a distinct and highly probable outcome. But… can't we just do… simple stuff then? Please," I persisted, pressing my hard erection more insistently against his thigh.

"I think, my dear Pulla," he murmured gently, "that you should listen to my undoubtedly sound judgment and simply sleep. If you still harbor these… desires after your current state of inebriation subsides, we can certainly explore them then. But most assuredly not right now."

I burrowed myself deeper into his chest. "Do you… not want me…?"

"Of course I want you, Raphael," he reassured me. His other hand gently caressed my back. "But I also want you to be safe and comfortable. So," he continued, "simply close your eyes. I will be right here, relaxing you by stroking your hair and caressing your back. Alright, dear?"

"You are so…nice… Okay," I mumbled, closing my eyes. "Levi…" I began again. "I have something… I want to confess. I love you. So much. But… it feels wrong to say it to you. Because I know you can't really say it back. You always offer me a logical explanation… and I don't need an explanation, I know who you are… But… gods, I love you so much, and seeing that almost pained expression flicker across your face every time I say it out loud… it just made me stop."

"My dear Pulla, thank you for understanding," he murmured, his voice soft. "Hm… let us consider this for a moment," he said, a brief pause in his caress. "You are absolutely allowed to express your love, in whatever way feels right to you. Just as I am allowed to express my own… version. If it would genuinely bring you comfort, I could say the words back to you… but I suspect, it would ultimately feel… hollow, perhaps even unpleasant, for both of us."

Him just saying it back because he feels obligated, or because he thinks it's what I want to hear… that would be worse than silence. At least the silence is honest.

"Thank you… Levi. But yeah," I murmured, my eyelids feeling heavier with each passing moment, "hearing you say it back would just be a performance for you, wouldn't it? And that's something I definitely don't want to inflict upon you."

"My dear, this is a conversation deserving of a longer and more thoughtful exploration, one we can certainly have when you are feeling more… grounded."

His warm presence, the gentle cadence of his words, the soft caress of his hand… it was all conspiring to pull me down into the welcoming embrace of sleep.