Sugar, Secrets and Upheaval

He placed me softly onto the mattress before rising to his full height. He began to shed his clothes, the jacket, the shirt, and then his trousers. In turn, my fingers fumbled with the buttons of my shirt, eager to match his pace, and then I reached for the tube of lubricant in the first drawer of the bedside table.

“Levi,” I breathed as I watched his body now fully revealed in the dim light. “Please, be gentle. I don’t want any soreness afterwards.”

“Certainly, my dear,” he said as he reached into the same drawer, pulling out a small foil packet. It had been a considerable time since we had used them. “You’ve certainly taken ‘gentle’ to a top-notch, haven’t you?” I asked, a faint surprise coloring my tone.

“No, my dear,” he stated, his voice utterly devoid of emotion, “I simply wished not to bother you with the extensive cleansing afterwards.”

“A gentleman, after all. Always thinking of the logistics of the aftermath,” I said, a wry acceptance in my voice. I couldn’t deny his logic.

Beyond the practicalities, an idea began to bloom in my mind. As much as I preferred him to be in charge, a small shift in the dynamic would be immensely appreciated. So, with my fingers already working, I started to loosen my entrance, a task he always performed with such expert precision. But today, he would simply watch.

“Oh,” he hummed as he crawled onto the bed, his deep blue eyes fixed on my every movement. “If I had known you would be this eager, I certainly would have arrived earlier.”

“I said stop being smug,” I commanded, as I pushed my second finger inside.

“My dear Pulla, that particular tone is exceptionally… provocative,” he hummed with deep satisfaction. Gods, he openly enjoyed… everything I threw at him. Whether I offered submission or a fleeting attempt at dominance, he simply absorbed it, reveled in it, and purred in return.

“Of course it’s provocative. You find any hint of my resistance amusing, don’t you? Is there anything you don’t enjoy?” I asked.

“Resistance, defiance from you, is truly my favorite poison, Pulla; nothing matches it,” he said. “And you know my boundary already,” he added, his thumb tracing a line over my pulsing shaft.

Yeah. And I was sure that if I wanted it — not that I ever would — he would probably say yes.

“I suppose your ‘poison’ works both ways, then. Because your control is certainly addictive in its own way,” I said, a subtle arch of my back.

“It is called a dynamic, Raphael; there is no need to punish yourself for putting your trust into someone who is always in control and calm.”

I knew what he meant. Being fully in the moment, not being the one who had to make all the decisions, to carry all the weight. There was a shameful comfort in that. You just… be. And he would take care of everything.

He got closer, his head moving to my neck, and gave it a lick with the flat of his tongue. His fingers, wrapped around my dick, began to move very slowly.

“Keep doing that,” I said, my hips arching into his touch. He responded by pressing small, deliberate kisses along my neck, his lips warm and firm against my skin, while his fingers, wrapped around my shaft, fastened their pace, the rhythmic strokes growing more insistent. “I… I am ready.”

Levi pulled his hands away and placed them firmly onto my hips, anchoring himself between my legs. He rose to his knees, allowing me a full view of his aroused form. He placed the very tip of his cock to my entrance, but did not push. He rested there, just a pressure.

“Gods, the slow burn. You’re a master of it. Just get inside me, Levi,” I begged, my voice hoarse with desire.

“Oh, excuse my profound miscalculation,” he murmured. “I quite forgot the condom,” he added, his gaze dropping to the foil packet still lying on the mattress beside us.

Oh my god! I snatched the packet from the bed and, hastily, tore open the packaging. I pressed the condom into his hand and guided him to wear it.

“There, now shove it in,” I commanded, leaning back against the pillows.

“Didn’t you ask for gentleness, my dear?”

He gave another push, the blunt tip pressing against me, but still not breaching the threshold.

“You are insufferable,” I declared as I rose onto my hip, using the sudden shift to shove him back onto the bed. He offered no resistance. I straddled his hips and grabbed his cock, positioning myself directly above it. Levi’s hands moved, settling on my waist, offering balance as I began to lower myself down. This potent cocktail of frustration and pure horniness was going to get me impaled. At least he was holding me. Then, with a sigh, the very tip of his cock finally pierced my threshold.

His thumbs brushed circles against my bare skin, demanding patience. I took him in, slowly, the first inch a gasp, the second a moan.

“Gods, Levi. You always have to make me work for it, even when I’m already open and waiting.”

“I enjoy a slow burn, Raphael; you prefer a more mechanical engagement,” he said and offered a shrug. “But easy, my dear,” he added, his hand firmly gripping my waist.

I pushed down, then rose, finding a rhythm. His head shifted slightly on the mattress. Each downward thrust was deep, consuming, stretching me further, eliciting a moan that vibrated from my throat. I could feel the ripple of his muscles as my weight shifted, the strong beat of his heart against my inner thigh. I continued my pace, driving myself closer to the precipice of my own undoing.

I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his, feeling the heat radiate from his skin. His hands tightened, his fingers digging in, holding me captive in this dance. Each rise and fall became a dizzying blur, the edges of the room fading, my entire world narrowing to the sensation.

As I felt the unbearable pressure build to its peak, Levi’s hands left my waist to cup my hips. He thrust upwards, a rhythm that completely took over the pace I had initiated. Each one was deep, driving, meeting my downward push with a force that sent shivers through my core. The world spun, the light from the window fracturing into kaleidoscope patterns behind my eyelids.

With a choked cry, I shattered, sensations exploding in a brilliant, blinding flash. My muscles spasmed, and a spray of my cum spurted upwards, some of it landing on Levi’s face. I collapsed onto his chest, breathless, trembling, the echo of pleasure still reverberating through every cell.

“Well, my dear,” he said, calm despite smeared evidence across his face and black hair. He made no move to wipe it away. “This was certainly enthusiastic,” he added, the words carrying a hint of surprise rather than offense.

“Sorry, sorry,” I murmured, rising from his chest, the tremor in my limbs slowly subsiding. Reaching for the packet of wet wipes on the bedside table, I began to clean his face. Gods, it was everywhere — on his chest, a streak down his neck, a smear on his chin, even clinging to an eyelash. What if it had gone into his eye? And right before that dinner!

When I placed the used wipes onto the bedside table, Levi rose to his knees once more, bringing his gaze level with my exposed buttocks. His hands settled on my flesh, giving a squeeze. I hate my masochist inclinations. A shameful part of me almost wished he would follow through, that he’d deliver a sharp spank. Understanding the implicit demand of his touch, I stayed on my knees, lowering my head to the pillow, arching my back in an open invitation.

“You are quite responsive to my unspoken requests, Pulla,” he murmured, followed by a soft chuckle. After that, he entered once again. He was not forceful, sliding in with a controlled ease that still managed to fill me.

When he was fully inside, my Pig part — yeah, from now on, that masochist is called Pig — that Pig craved a brutal claim. Not this careful, considerate re-entering. I was the one who had just begged for gentleness, and now, my hips began to undulate, shaking against him.

“I know I asked for gentle, but perhaps a little less... delicacy is required now,” I said, my voice muffled by the pillows.

“Hm.” He started to move inside me, a deep, full thrust, but he wasn’t keeping up the pace I craved. I assumed he was trying to understand what I meant.

“Forget delicacy. My ‘Pig’ wants to be claimed, not caressed.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit NovelFire for the authentic version.

Please let it stick.

“Oh. I understand,” he murmured, and then, a loud spank cracked against my buttock, making me gasp. Gods, yes. It stuck. The heat bloomed instantly, a sting that ignited every nerve ending. “My Pulla is bored,” he added, and without further preamble, he launched into that brutal, relentless pace. Each thrust was vibrating through my lungs, shaking the air from my chest, driving me against the mattress.

“Give me more!”

“Surely,” he murmured. Another spank cracked. “But let us make it more… entertaining, if you will,” he added, and thrust himself so deep inside me that it made me scream.

He lowered his chest to my back, his weight pressing me down. He bit down, not hard enough to break the skin, but just enough to elicit a sharp cry. “Give me a number, from one to ten, right now, so that I can decide what my Pulla truly desires.”

“S-six?”

“Good enough. I know my Pulla does not enjoy overlapping textures, but for tonight, he will take it.”

What? What are overlapping textures? While my mind scrambled to comprehend his cryptic statement, he poured a generous dollop of lubricant onto my entrance. Then, his middle finger began to brush against my hole.

Oh… I remembered. He had tried to do this before, nearly a year ago, and I had gotten scared.

“Your memory is terrifying. And… what if it hurts?”

“My dear, do not fret; I will stop the moment you articulate your discomfort.”

Okay. He will stop if I say so. Okay… Time to try this new thing.

The very tip of his finger stretched me, making me gasp. It… wasn’t that painful, just intense stretching. “Deep breaths for me, my dear,” he murmured, his voice utterly serene, and then, he began to push a little more, perhaps a knuckle.

“L-Levi… It feels… unfamiliar,” I gasped, my body tensing.

“It is quite alright, my dear,” he murmured, calm and reassuring. “Simply articulate your desire to cease the moment you wish to stop,” he added, and continued to push his finger deeper inside. When it was fully inside, a very loud moan escaped me, and the sheer intensity made me lose control of my legs, causing them to tremble and shake.

“Easy for you to say it’s ‘alright’ when you’re not the one being stretched like this!” I gasped, trying to take the calming breaths he instructed.

He pulled his finger back, but not so far as to remove it entirely. Gods, aside from his cock, now his slender, long finger was inside as well. The bastard really did it. But the trembling and shaking were getting uncontrollable, my body protesting even as my brain, or rather, my Pig inclinations, might have desired otherwise.

“L-Levi, stop,” I choked out.

He pulled his finger out slowly. “Alright, my dear,” he said, and placed a soft kiss on my back, right between my shoulder blades. “You did really well,” he added, his words carrying an approving hum.

The man truly understands how to cultivate a kink, how to make the act of pushing limits feel like a shared achievement.

“I… did?” I asked, not a question at all, but a play for another dose of his approval.

“Yes, dear, you did,” he murmured.

“I want a little more pain and… praise, too,” I whispered, the words laced with a flush that burned my cheeks.

Levi kept moving inside me, his powerful thrusts deepening, and gave my butt another loud spank. The sting resonated through me, immediately followed by a surge of heat. “My dear takes me so well, every time,” he said, his voice a low, precise cadence that vibrated with a deep. He placed both of his hands firmly on my buttocks, his fingers digging in, now giving them a firm squeeze with each relentless drive, pressing me further down onto his shaft.

Then, one of his hands slid from my buttock, trailing down my inner thigh. His fingers found the sensitive skin there, and he dug his fingernails in, dragging them slowly upwards, leaving a trail of sting in their wake. My breath hitched, a raw cry caught in my throat, and my body arched into his next deep thrust. “Such admirable endurance, Pulla,” he murmured against my ear. He repeated the movement, fingernails raking lightly against my inner thigh. “You are truly magnificent in your surrender.”

His fingers found purchase on my hips, twisting and pinching, an agony that sliced through the mounting pleasure. My body trembled, a sheen of sweat breaking out over my skin, but I pressed back into him, desperate for more of the pain, more of his praise.

The climax arrived, not as a gentle wave, but as an explosion. My entire being convulsed around him in a final paroxysm. A raw scream tore from my throat as I shattered, my body bowing. In that same instant, Levi’s own low growl rumbled deep in his chest. He thrust one last time, his hips locking against mine, his own body stiffening.

His grip on my hips loosened slightly, but he didn’t move away, holding me captive in the aftermath.

“I suppose that’s what happens when your ‘Pulla’ demands ‘more pain and praise.’ You delivered,” I said, the words still a little breathless, as I tried to get my breathing even against the tremors.

He placed his hand onto my stomach, his fingers splayed wide and warm against my skin. “I only strive to attune to your desire, my dear,” he said. He remained unmoving, as if content to simply exist within me for a moment.

“You have a very... precise definition of desire, don’t you?”

“No,” he murmured, devoid of his usual certainty. “I truly do not know what I want, unlike you. It still requires thorough experimentation with you.”

“You really do not know, even after we did… a lot of things. The gentleness, the hardcore stuff?” I asked.

“I…” he paused. “I truly do not have clear definitions like you, my dear; mine is…” he said, pausing again, his gaze distant. “I do not even possess the right words. Perhaps I am… fluid? Perhaps I derive satisfaction from both of them? I truly do not know, Raphael.”

It’s disarming, truly. To hear that hint of genuine uncertainty in his voice, to see him searching for something beyond his usual precise lexicon. It’s almost vulnerable.

“Maybe it is also because you… you have a hard time labeling your sexual identity?” I asked. Honestly, it wasn’t too far-fetched.

“Good idea,” he replied, his voice seemed to carry a spark of new insight. “It might also be because of that. May it also be because I derive satisfaction from all of it. Perhaps it is the sheer vastness of possibilities that makes it inherently difficult to define,” he added, his gaze sweeping over the ceiling.

It makes sense that for him, sexuality isn’t about labels or feelings, but about the exhaustive exploration of every conceivable variable, every ‘possibility.’ And I’m here, stretched open, the living, breathing canvas for his ‘experimentation.’

“Is that your eloquent way of saying you’re omnivorous in your desires, and I’m simply the current feast?” I asked, a hint of wry amusement coloring my voice as I managed to regulate my breathing.

He chuckled. “I am strictly vegetarian, Raphael, which you know very well. But, the word ‘current’ is rather diminutive to my lifelong plan of being married to you. And it is very evident that I do not have a desire to engage with other people, so you are my current and all-time feast, Pulla. Be prepared.”

He’s chuckling, amused, as he lays out my entire future. My monster, my... husband. And I find, to my utter shame and acceptance, that I’m not entirely sure I’d want it any other way.

“Vegetarian, and you call me a rabbit right afterwards? What is up with that?” I asked, attempting to deflect from his declaration.

“Oh, do you prefer me to be a carnivore like you, Raphael? Sucking out bone marrow as if I were starved in vast deserts, as you are?” he retorted. “Please, there is no way my palate would ever grace that sin; I am quite content with that springy, mammalian flesh never touching my mouth,” he added, his tone utterly certain.

“You make it sound like I’m gnawing on raw bone, Levi. It’s just a steak, not a sacrifice,” I retorted, letting out a laugh.

“Oh, do not laugh so contentedly, my dear; you nearly cut off my circulation,” he said, delivering a deep thrust that made me gasp.

“Two can play that game, Levi, here you go.” I started to squeeze and clench my muscles around him. “Let’s hear about your circulation now.”

This had been a long time coming.

He chuckled in return. “Defiance, dear? Truly delicious,” he murmured. He rolled his hips upwards, applying pressure directly to my sweet spot. A sharp jolt of sensation shot through me, making me gasp and arch my back into him. He knows what he’s doing, the bastard.

“Stop,” I gasped. “We need to leave in hours… I cannot take another round,” I said, even though my body was buzzing with energy.

“Do you desire for me to withdraw?”

No. Not at all. Really, no.

“Yes,” I replied, the lie tasting bitter on my tongue.

He obliged, slowly sliding himself out. He tied the condom and tossed it into the nearby trash bin. After that, his eyes lay on my bare buttocks. “I will apply some ointments here,” he said, reaching for a tube on the bedside table.

“You’re remarkably composed for someone who just reduced me to a quivering mess,” I said, with a hint of exasperation.

“Would you rather I push you?” he asked, though his tone was not a question, but a reminder that he respected my boundary, emphasized by the slight arch of his left eyebrow. He then opened the tube of analgesic cream and smeared some on where he spanked me. It’s unsettling, this lack of emotional fluctuation, but it’s also, perversely, what makes him so dependable. He keeps his word.

Also, there was the ‘Pig’ part of me, silently wishing that he would… push. That he would just take what he wanted, disregard my words. I was an idiot. A masochist Pig with very little in the way of boundaries, and a body utterly filled with hormones — that’s precisely what I was.

“And what if the ‘Pig’ had whispered for you to ignore my words?” I asked, intrigued by the implications.

Levi finished applying the ointment with his usual meticulousness. He then leaned forward and placed a fleeting kiss on my cheek. “We can certainly explore that dynamic, my dear, after the dinner,” he said. “Now, Raphael, we have… a dreadful, revolting, boring, tedious dinner to attend to. Ugh… These safety protocols are quite choking me right now.”