A sensation of warmth and weight against my back jolted me awake. It was Levi. He was asleep on his side, his face pale and drawn with exhaustion. Fifteen days. It felt like forever since I last saw him.

My hand hovered for a moment before resting on his cheek. His skin felt rougher than usual, and he remained deeply asleep. Usually, even the slightest touch would have him snapping awake. I pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then settled back into his embrace. Gods, he smelled… earthy, like dry soil, mixed with the bitter tang of cheap coffee. He desperately needed a shower. But underneath all that, the faint, unique scent that was just him filled my nostrils. I’d missed him so damn much.

I’d thrown myself into the work at the foundation, translating, handing out food and water, trying to be useful. But that triage area… the image of that amputation still haunted me. Even though I’d stayed far away, I couldn’t bear to be there anymore. I needed to breathe, to find some space. Still, I’d made sure to leave my number with the staff. If they needed a translator, they knew how to reach me.

I mindlessly watched some inane program on the television, avoiding the news channels. Finally, Levi stirred, his long sleep stretching through almost an entire day. He immediately gravitated towards the kitchen. Ah, my lion. The borders must have yielded nothing to satisfy his particular needs. He likely survived on a meager diet of bland rice porridge and sugar cubes. Soon he emerged with a large tray laden with three generous portions of his beloved muffins and an assortment of sweet pastries, settling beside me on the couch. The moment his teeth sank into the first bite was palpable; a wave of bliss washed over him. His eyes closed, and a deep, contented sigh escaped his lips. “Pulla… I was so hungry.”

Yeah, Levi. I could tell.

"Ah, my poor lion," I murmured, a soft smile gracing my lips as I watched him devour the muffin. "Tell me everything. How were you really?"

Levi took another substantial bite before answering, his eyes still half-closed in contentment. "Tired. Bone-deep exhausted. Hungry, constantly. Sleepy, obviously. A persistent thrum of pain. And mostly… just irritated. Annoyed by everything. The last day was just mind-numbing boredom. But," he added, a hint of satisfaction entering his voice, "good news. Those stitches are finally out. The wound's healed cleanly, the surgeon at the Academia was… competent."

"Oh," I murmured, my hand resting on his forearm. "That sounds absolutely awful. But at least those stitches are finally gone. That must be such a relief."

"The stitches are gone, Raphael," he stated, his gaze meeting mine. "Which means we can finally cuddle properly again." He then reached out, his fingers tracing the back of my hand. "Now, tell me about your days, dear. What sort of chaos did I miss?"

He missed cuddling too. Even through the exhaustion and the usual Levi-isms, that small admission warmed me from the inside out. Proper cuddling. Yes. The thought of holding him close again, without having to worry about his wound, was incredibly comforting. Chaos? He has no idea. A shadow flickered across my thoughts – the triage. I pushed it back. I'll tell him… but maybe not all at once.

My voice wavered slightly as I spoke. "I... it was just... hard, Levi. The scale of it all. The desperation in their eyes, the constant crying... it just kept building up. After three weeks... I just... broke. So, I came back. I couldn't stay there anymore."

Levi paused, his gaze softening as he looked at me. "Raphael," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle, the usual crispness absent. "What those medical professionals did was wrong. Deeply wrong. To be perfectly honest, it angered me to hear about it. Someone like you, my dear, should never have to witness something so extreme. And if you're feeling guilty about coming home," he continued, his thumb stroking the back of my hand, "please don't. My work there is finished too. I did everything that was within my capacity to do."

Maybe he really does understand, in his own way.

Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the edges of his face. "You... you really mean that?" I whispered. "About them being wrong... and me not needing to feel guilty?"

"Witnessing a surgical amputation is not a recreational activity, Raphael. It was an egregious ethical violation for you to be present during such a procedure. You should never have been subjected to that. Even individuals with extensive experience in emergency medicine often find such events deeply disturbing. It is entirely understandable, and predictable, that you would experience a significant psychological impact, potentially manifesting as trauma." He paused, considering his words. "Regarding this… guilt you mentioned. As you know, it is not a sensation within my personal repertoire. However, I can offer a logical assessment. You dedicated three weeks to assisting in a highly stressful and emotionally demanding environment. You applied your skills and energy to the best of your ability. Recognizing your limits and returning home to recuperate is not an indication of failure. You, too, require periods of rest and recovery, Raphael. It is a biological imperative, not a moral failing."

He’s… validating how I feel, in his own logical way. It chips away at that gnawing guilt.

"Thank you for saying that, Levi," I murmured. "Do you... do you want to talk about what you were doing at the borders?"

He finished the last of his muffin, wiping his fingers on a napkin before turning to me. "A significant amount of logistical strategizing, resource allocation projections, and personnel deployment directives," he said. "However," he added, a smile playing on his lips, "I do have a narrative for you. One that, I predict, will elicit a certain… sympathetic response."

Levi having a story? My eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Tell me, tell me," I urged, leaning forward.

"It transpired during the initial phase of my second week of deployment. A juvenile refugee managed to circumvent the tent city perimeter and gain unauthorized access to my shelter. Her focus was directed towards the collection of origami I had created during periods of ennui. Specifically, she fixated upon the lotus. My initial inclination was to deny her request for this particular item."

My brow furrowed.

Why wouldn't he want to give it to her? Unless...

Unless he was worried about it not being special anymore. That felt... sweet. For Levi.

"My first instinct was to say no," Levi admitted. "That particular origami, the lotus… it was meant to be special, just for you. But then I thought… if you heard this story, or if you saw me turn away a refugee kid I figured you'd be… disappointed. So," he finished, a small shrug, "I gave it to her."

My stubborn, logical lion... capable of surprising acts of… well, not exactly selflessness, but something close enough.

"My god, Levi," I said, a fond smile gracing my lips. "I honestly thought you'd excised any and all sentimental fibers from your being years ago."

He met my gaze, defensiveness flickering in his eyes. "But," he countered, "it was a profound tactical error

. The subsequent days devolved into a chaotic influx of juvenile refugees, all demanding origami. The sheer volume was… inefficient. That odious Minister Shaw even had the audacity to suggest I possessed… empathy. The notion was infuriating. Consequently, to mitigate the persistent violation of my personal space by these children, I established a transactional agreement."

I can just picture it. Him, surrounded by a horde of tiny children... Shaw thinking he has empathy? Oh, that must have sent him through the roof. I chuckled softly.

"Alright, spill it," I said, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth. "What kind of deal did you strike with this miniature origami mafia?"

Levi's lips twitched. "Direct confrontation and forceful removal would have generated unnecessary disruption to the established order," he explained, his tone matter-of-fact. "Therefore, I implemented a more… mutually beneficial arrangement. For an hour each day, I would provide instruction in the art of origami. The compensation for this educational service? Their candy. However," he added, a note of warning entering his voice, "any unauthorized incursion into my personal shelter would result in the immediate and irrevocable termination of said agreement."

"You sly devil," I chuckled, shaking my head in mock disapproval.

"It wasn't bribery, Raphael," Levi corrected. "It was establishing a clear transactional framework, a tangible exchange to reinforce the boundary of my personal space and provide a structured outlet for their excess energy. And yes, it proved remarkably effective. However," he continued, exasperation creeping into his voice, "another unforeseen variable emerged. The adult refugees, facing what I can only assume was an existential level of boredom, also expressed a keen interest in origami instruction." He sighed. "A significant oversight on my part."

I can actually see that. Stuck in a tent city with nothing to do… folding paper might be a distraction. He probably wasn't thrilled about that, though.

"As you can imagine, my immediate response was one of considerable irritation," Levi continued, a slight grimace twisting his lips. "The juvenile element was already a drain on my temporal resources; the prospect of extending these… instructional sessions to adults was less than appealing. However," he paused, "that initial annoyance sparked a… more strategic approach. I collaborated with the aid personnel to distribute paper, yarn, and various other crafting materials to the adult refugees. The products of their efforts are now being offered at auction, with all proceeds directly benefiting the creators. Furthermore," he added, a hint of something that might have been satisfaction in his voice, "I hypothesize that this endeavor will have a positive impact on their overall morale, fostering a sense of autonomy and perhaps even… what humans term hope. And that," he concluded, a definitive note in his tone, "is the entirety of the narrative."

Origami lessons for bored adults turning into an auction to benefit them? That was… unexpectedly… kind. In a very roundabout, Levi-esque way, fueled by annoyance and logic, but still…

"Oh my god, Levi," I said, a genuine warmth spreading through me. "That was... surprisingly sweet. I honestly didn't see that coming."

Levi's brow furrowed, his gaze sharp. "Firstly, Raphael," he said, "I perceive a distinct quickening of your pulse, undoubtedly linked to a misinterpretation of my actions as stemming from some… benevolent impulse. I must ask you to refrain from such simplistic conclusions; they are rather insulting to my neurodivergent brain. Secondly," he continued, his tone becoming more matter-of-fact, "the entire sequence of events was predicated upon an entirely logical strategy. The primary objective of that seemingly elaborate endeavor was, in fact, to secure a greater influx of donations."

"Oh, you prickly, defensive lion," I chuckled, shaking my head with a fond smile. "I wasn't accusing you of a sudden onset of empathy or anything equally alarming. It was simply a nice story, Levi. And, dare I say it, a genuinely heartwarming one. So, relax a little."

"My final recollection from the border deployment, Raphael," he began, "and despite my explicit directives against your presence there, I found myself wishing you had been. I experienced a distinct sense of… absence. Furthermore," he added, his gaze meeting mine with tenderness, "I also noted a deficit in our usual communication patterns. I would have… preferred more frequent contact."

My heart did a little flutter. A soft smile touched my lips.

"I missed you terribly too, Levi," I admitted, my voice softening. "The foundation was... overwhelming for a while, and honestly, I wasn't in a good headspace to talk or text much. But... okay. If we're ever apart again, I promise, I'll call you more often."

"Hm... Is that a binding verbal agreement, Pulla?" he asked, his gaze holding mine. "And now, dear Raphael," he continued, his tone shifting back to his usual inquisitive nature, "do recount the specifics of your days in my absence."

I nodded slowly. "Yes, Levi, it's a promise." I hesitated, my gaze dropping for a moment before meeting his again. "But... I'm not really comfortable talking about my days right now. There's... something else. Something more difficult." I took a deep breath. "My family... I haven't reached out to them. I wanted to wait until you were back. I... I don't think I can face them alone."

His warm hand gently cupped my cheek. "It is alright, Raphael. They are safe. You know their location. There is no immediate imperative to engage in communication. You are under no obligation. However," he continued, his thumb gently stroking my skin, "if you do wish to speak with them, then yes, of course, I will accompany you. Though, given my linguistic limitations regarding the Cyrusian language, my direct participation in the conversation may be somewhat… restricted."

I chuckled softly. "Your presence is more than enough, Levi. Thank you."

"Hm... Pulla," he murmured as he leaned closer, his breath warm against my skin. "I detected an anomaly earlier. The fragrance of vanilla emanating from you. A scent, I believe, associated with my preferred cleansing agent, not your usual floral concoctions. Therefore, my dearest," he continued, a playful glint now dancing in his eyes, "I must inquire. Was this an intentional act of… olfactory appeasement, or merely a statistical anomaly?"

Did I use his vanilla shower gel? I vaguely remembered reaching for a bottle this morning, still half-asleep. I hadn't even registered it wasn't mine until just now. A small smile tugged at my lips. Maybe it was a subconscious act of missing him. Or maybe I just grabbed the wrong bottle in my sleep-addled state. Either way, his reaction was… endearing.

Stolen novel; please report.

"Think, Levi," I purred, a teasing glint in my eyes.

"I am... aware of your past aversion to my preferred strawberry-based cleansing products. However," he continued, my voice dropping to a soft murmur, "I also possess a clear recollection of explicitly stating my fondness for the vanilla fragrance. Therefore, my dearest," he finished, my gaze meeting his with playful challenge, "might it be logically inferred that your subconscious olfactory selection was, in fact, a manifestation of… longing?"

The sly fox.

"Perhaps," I conceded, a smirk tugging at my lips. "I will acknowledge a certain… sensory deprivation in your absence, Levi. However, the motivations behind my choice remain… classified."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "A predictably evasive response, my dear Raphael," he murmured, his voice a warm caress. "However, the outcome is… agreeable nonetheless." And then, he closed the small distance between us, his lips pressing against mine. A sigh escaped my lips. Ah... yes. The gentle pressure... I had missed this more than words could say.

His hand tightened ever so slightly, drawing me closer.

"Pulla," he breathed against my lips, sending a shiver down my spine, "if you offer me your solemn vow of gentleness, we could perhaps engage in penetrative intercourse."

Oh, gods. Fuck yes. Finally. Fucking finally.

How many weeks had it been? Nearly eight weeks of longing.

"I promise, Levi. I will be gentle. Let's go to bed."

...

My fingers fumbled with the buttons of Levi's shirt. Yes, the clean scent of his pre-breakfast shower clung to him. I paused for a moment as his shirt fell away, my gaze drawn to the scar on his lower abdomen. A curved line, spanning the length of my palm. But it was smoother, less angry than I had imagined.

"Pulla," he murmured, his voice a low invitation from the bed, "lay down beside me."

I eagerly complied, turning onto my side to face him. He reached for the first drawer of the nightstand and he retrieved the lubricant. Then, with a gentle shift, he positioned himself behind me, his body spooning against mine. Gods. He truly did crave this closeness. His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer, while his teasing middle finger traced my entrance.

The swirl of his finger made me arch slightly into him, a soft groan escaping my lips. "Impatient, Pulla?" he murmured. Another kiss followed, deeper this time, his tongue tangling with mine.

"Yes, gods, yes, I am," I admitted, my voice a husky whisper, my hips already rocking against his.

"Ah, but Pulla," he breathed, his voice a low chuckle against my ear, "you did offer a solemn vow of gentleness."

"Levi," I groaned, my hands gripping his forearm tightly. "For the love of... just put your finger inside. Please. Stop torturing me."

"Such eagerness," he murmured, a hint of triumph in his voice, "and such delightful impatience." And then, finally he pushed his finger inside, stretching me, filling the empty space that ached for his touch.

"Ah, Levi..." I sighed with pure relief. It had been an eternity. Every sensation was magnified by the weeks of absence. I missed the feel of his slender fingers, the way his warm breath tickled my ear, the weight of his body pressed against my back. "I want you, Levi... not just your fingers…"

He pressed the tip of his second finger. "You are remarkably tight, dear," he murmured. "It might cause you discomfort."

"I don't care, Levi," I gasped, gripping his arm tightly, my body arching back, pressing my hips against the ridge of his arousal. "Just... please... do it."

He pressed forward gently, testing the fit, but even the initial contact sent a sharp intake of breath through me. To say it was painful would be an understatement; it felt like a tight, unyielding barrier was being forced to yield.

"Dear," he murmured, as he felt my tension, "perhaps a more gentle approach would be prudent, hm?"

"Just... kiss me, Levi," I urged, my eyes fluttering closed as I turned my head. He seemed to sense my stubborness, so he complied. His lips met mine in a deep, searching kiss. The moment he breached the barrier, a sharp cry tore from my throat.

My hands clenched, knuckles white as I fought back the urge to pull away. But beneath the discomfort, a molten core of desire was already beginning to stir. With a final, determined push, his tip slid fully past.

A strangled gasp escaped my lips, a sound that was half sob, half moan. It was a burning fullness that stole my breath. The kiss broke, and I gasped for air.

Levi remained still for a moment, his breath ragged against my ear. "Are you alright, dear?"

"Just..." I managed, "just... don't stop."

I needed him inside me, needed the feeling of his body joined with mine, no matter the discomfort.

The stillness didn't last long. He began to move, withdrawing only a fraction before pressing back in, stretching me anew.

My breath hitched with each thrust, my body beginning to adjust, to accommodate his size. I arched my back further, seeking more of him, my hips beginning to move in a tempo matching against his. The small whimpers escaping my lips were no longer solely from discomfort.

He continued his slow, deep strokes as if gauging my reaction. "Tell me if it's too much, Pulla," he murmured. But my only response was a choked gasp, my hips lifting to meet his thrust.

My hands reached back, finding purchase on his hips, digging my fingers into the muscle as I began to guide his movements. The glacial pace was starting to drive me wild. "More, Levi," I managed, rocking my hips against his. "Deeper."

He responded instantly. Each thrust now plunged him deeper, filling me completely, stretching me to my limit in a way that was both intensely pleasurable and slightly overwhelming. My head lolled back against his shoulder, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I squeezed his hips, urging him on, my own rhythm now matching his.

"Pulla." He nuzzled against my shoulder, his lips brushing the sensitive skin there. "I missed you." His teeth grazed on the curve of my shoulder, his tongue tracing the line of my neck.

"Levi," I gasped, my head falling back. My body clenched around him, for more, for faster, for the culmination.

His teeth nipped sharply at the crest of my shoulder, the pain sending a jolt through my senses. A strangled cry tore from my throat as the overload hit me, a wave of pleasure that shattered through every nerve ending. His movements slowed to a languid glide, allowing me to catch my breath.

"Pulla," he said as he nuzzled deeper, rubbing the tip of his nose against the curve of my neck. "You always smell so… good," he murmured, the words a husky sigh against my skin. With the shift in his hips, the deepening of his thrust within me, began.

Even in his demanding movements, there was a subtle restraint. Sensing his guarded exertion, I reached for the pillow, clutching it tightly against my chest. I met his deep thrusts, grinding against him, allowing him to remain relatively still while I took control of the pace and depth. I could feel him tense, his breath catching in his throat.

Levi's grip on my hips loosened, and he pushed my shoulders away from him, creating a small space between our torsos. Why would he break our close contact? The answer became clear as my own movements gained momentum.

Gods, this man...

Emboldened by the freedom, I began to move with a more forceful abandon, my hips bucking against his hard length, taking him deeper with each insistent thrust. Each slide and grind elicited a guttural moan from the depths of my being. Levi was right there with me, teetering on the precipice, the subtle tremors ran through his body.

His thumbs dug into my waist. "Yes," he ground out. "Just... like that."

With a shuddering groan, his hips bucked against mine, rapid, shallow thrusts like mine. A gasp tore from my lungs as my own release washed over me, followed swiftly by the unmistakable contractions of him.

"Gods..." I gasped, the word catching in my throat as the warmth of his release flooded inside me, an endless tide of thick, pulsing streams.

"Apologies," Levi rasped against my shoulder, his chin never lifting from its resting place against my skin. "But that was... only my second instance of such… expenditure… in the preceding eight weeks."

"So, you truly went the entire time without... masturbating?"

Levi lifted his head slightly. "Indeed, Raphael. Firstly, my surgeon explicitly forbade such activities. Secondly, as you are well aware, my proclivity for solitary sexual activity is... infrequent at best. And finally," he gestured with a slight roll of his eyes, "pray tell, where was I to engage in such personal indulgences, Pulla? Amidst the exigencies of the border encampment? Upon my work surface constructed from repurposed cardboard?"

"Cardboards?" I echoed, a hint of disbelief in my voice.

"Indeed, dear," he confirmed, his movements slow and gentle, a comforting rhythm against my back. "Ordinarily, in such a displacement scenario, one would expect the deployment of mobile administrative units, or at the very least, more substantial and adequately furnished temporary shelters. However," a distinct edge of annoyance entered his voice, "I explicitly instructed those indolent vermin, those ministers, to refrain from indulging in any semblance of comfort amidst the prevailing crisis."

"My reasoning was sound: any degree of comfort would invariably prolong their presence, thus impeding the swift execution of their responsibilities. Their discomfort, conversely, served as a powerful impetus for expedited action, facilitating their prompt return to the capital." A low growl rumbled in his chest.

A palpable annoyance now colored his words. "They even had the audacity to implore our early return, Raphael," he continued, his grip tightening slightly. "A request that, I confess, engendered a considerable degree of irritation. Their proposed methodology for addressing the crisis essentially amounted to the indiscriminate deposition of aid at a designated location, followed by a precipitous retreat to the capital. I was left as the sole on-site coordinator, the 'amoral' entity, the individual devoid of 'empathy,' tasked with the unenviable role of imploring them not to behave as utter imbeciles."

Oh, Levi. Cardboard desks and uncomfortable ministers. It's almost darkly funny, the image of him, amidst the chaos of a refugee crisis, battling not just the practicalities but also the sheer idiocy of those in charge.

"But why did you stay, Levi?" I asked softly, fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

He paused for a moment, his breath warm against my scalp. "There are several contributing factors, dear Raphael," he began. "Firstly, I confess, the opportunity to inflict a modicum of discomfort upon those bureaucratic parasites held a certain… appeal. Secondly, my assigned role necessitated the diligent oversight of all personnel to ensure the efficient execution of their duties. Thirdly, my operational objective was to maximize the reach of aid to the displaced population while minimizing any undue strain on our economic infrastructure. And finally," a distinct note of conviction entered his voice, "it would have constituted a profound inequity to permit those ministers to luxuriate in comfort while their dereliction of duty directly impacted the well-being of the displaced individuals."

"So, you stayed because... it was the logical, efficient, and just thing to do. Even if you enjoyed making a few people uncomfortable along the way."

"Precisely, Pulla," he confirmed, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he pressed a tender kiss to my temple. "Ah, my Pulla, it appears the constraints of conventional morality have finally experienced a… seismic event, have they not?"

"Seismic event barely scratches the surface, Levi," I murmured, turning my head to look at him. "Witnessing that unending human tide... it truly recalibrated my understanding of so much, including your… pragmatic approach. You remember, that first day of the war, when you mentioned the economy? I recoiled. It felt… cold. But after days and nights of simply trying to keep up, of doing my absolute best only to collapse into an exhausted heap on the couch, I understood. There is a tomorrow. There are consequences. So, yes," I admitted, a weary smile touching my lips, "a great deal has shifted within me as well."

"My Pulla," Levi murmured. "You cannot possibly fathom the significance of those words to me. I had considered introducing you to certain foundational philosophical texts that explore the complexities of utilitarianism and consequentialism. However," he continued, a hint of pride lacing his voice, "it appears my Pulla has elected to pursue a more… experiential curriculum."

"Oh," I said, "so you're going to include me in this little book club you've started with Leo? How dare you call him 'good boy' Levi, you absolute whore."

Levi chuckled softly against my ear. "Hm… Intriguing," he murmured, his breath a teasing caress. "Are we observing a manifestation of possessiveness, perhaps a touch of jealousy, or a delightful confluence of both?"

"Both, you manipulative bitch," I retorted. "'Good boy' is a term of endearment reserved for me. And you, used it to manipulate Leo into offering an apology after his blunder. Do you truly believe I am oblivious to your manipulations?"

"Very well, my dearest," he conceded, his lips brushing against my earlobe. "The appellation is yours, and yours alone. Pulla, you are, and will always be, my good boy. There is no need for such delightful displays of jealousy, though I must confess, I find it rather… endearing."

Endearing? The bastard. He knows exactly what he's doing, stoking the flames of my possessiveness and then acting all amused by it.

"Oh, I'm sure you do. It feeds your ego, doesn't it, knowing I get all twisted up over your pet names for other people?" I retorted, arching an eyebrow.

"Indeed, my dear Raphael," Levi purred. "It does provide a certain… validation to my admittedly substantial ego, I daresay, of magnititude eclipsing even the most luminous celestial body. However," he continued, his lips tracing the curve of my ear, "it is merely a fleeting caress. The true sustenance, the core satisfaction, derives from the knowledge that you are the one who claims such fervent ownership over me."

He sees my darkness, and he doesn't flinch. He just... purrs.

"We are both a little twisted, aren't we?" I admitted, a wry fondness coloring my tone.

"Raphael, I arrived on this terrestrial sphere in my current… configuration. Whether I have merely illuminated the delightful shadows already present within you is a matter for spirited debate. But I certainly haven't discouraged their emergence, have I?"

"So, you're admitting you've finally corrupted me?" I challenged, a playful smirk tugging at my lips.

"My dearest Raphael," he murmured, his grip tightening on my hips, his amusement evident in the forceful thrust that rocked me against him, "I assure you, my efforts at your delightful corruption have barely scratched the surface."

Corrupted?

Maybe. But it feels good.

The remainder of the morning dissolved into a languid exploration, dictated by the need to protect Levi's recovering body. Pillows became strategic supports, gentle angles replaced forceful movements, yet the intensity of our connection remained undiminished, culminating in a shared satiety that bordered on exhaustion.

Later, under the warm shower, Levi became a creature of pure sensation. He would nuzzle his nose into the damp strands of my hair, inhaling deeply, a soft sigh escaping his lips each time. Gods. He was like a bloodhound with a prized scent, absorbed in the simple act of inhaling me.