Levi remained engrossed in his book as I ate breakfast. But beneath the surface, a different kind of hunger was stirring within me: the unabated horniness. And then there was the effect of that truth-serum-esque kava, which had loosened my tongue to the point of confessing my deepest fears to Finn. So... why not just whisper my most shameful fantasies to Levi? What was one more potentially mortifying confession at this point?

Gathering my courage and ignoring the voice of reason screaming in my head, I approached the couch and leaned down, whispering into his ear.

Levi’s head tilted slightly. "So, Pulla, if I am understanding you correctly, you wish for us to engage in an elaborate scenario centered around… non-consensual sexual activity? Am I hearing your request accurately?"

Dammit.

"Ugh… Gods, don't say it with such… clinical precision," I groaned, pressing my palms against my burning cheeks. "But… yeah. That's essentially it. Consensual, yes, but within the framework of a non-consensual roleplay. Gods… I think I'm actually going to combust from the mortification of saying this out loud." I squeezed my eyes shut. "It's about… that edge, that feeling of being pushed beyond your limits, of almost losing control, but still knowing, on some fundamental level, that you're safe. That razor's edge of delicious fear and ultimate trust, you know?"

"Hm…" Levi mused aloud, his gaze drifting upwards. "What was the specific psychological reaction termed?" He paused, a flicker of recognition crossing his features. "Ah, yes. I recall reading in human behavioral studies… individuals who experience feelings of shame or embarrassment surrounding sexual desire or activity sometimes express a desire for their partners to take a more assertive, even seemingly non-consensual, role. The theory posits that this external 'push' can alleviate their internal sense of 'guilt' for experiencing pleasure. It is, however, a phenomenon most frequently observed in individuals with a history of repressed sexuality. However," he turned his keen gaze back to me, "you, my dear Raphael, are remarkably open and uninhibited in your sexuality. Therefore," he continued, his tone gentle but probing, "is there perhaps something else underlying this… specific request? Something further you wish to discuss with me?"

That's definitely not me. I practically wear my desires on my sleeve. So, what is this about then? The edge? Yeah, I said that. But is that the whole story? No.

"It's… different than that clinical explanation," I mumbled, my stomach twisting into a knot of anxiety. "Ugh, Levi… my stomach is actually aching now. I just… I can't bring myself to say it out loud."

"Hm… is it embarrassment that is manifesting in this rather visceral reaction, dear?" He paused, his gaze softening slightly. "Allow me to offer you some perspective, then. As you are acutely aware, there is very little within the realm of sexual desire that I consider truly forbidden, with the notable exception of scatological inclinations. Therefore, my dear Raphael, please, say whatever is on your mind. It is hardly as if I would subject you to judgment."

Easy for him to say. His 'not forbidden' list probably includes things that would make a seasoned brothel madam blush. My own desires feel… specific. And tied to him.

"Ugh. Okay… right. I'm just… ripping the damn band-aid off," I declared, taking a fortifying breath. "When we're… intimate, and you always prioritize my well-being, which I appreciate, but sometimes it manifests as you stopping mid-flow because you're suddenly concerned about some minute safety protocol, or you constantly check in on my comfort levels… it sometimes makes me feel like you're not fully present in the moment. Or worse," I swallowed hard, the words catching in my throat, "like you don't actually… want it, but you're only going through the motions for my sake." I shifted uncomfortably. "And… well, you're not exactly the one who usually initiates our sexual encounters, so…"

Levi considered my heartfelt confession, his brow furrowed in thought. "Hm… If my attention to your safety has created the impression that it overshadows my desire for you, then I will endeavor to be… less overtly zealous in that regard, although, I must confess, it is a deeply ingrained habit, and not easily discarded. I do not believe you have ever witnessed the full extent of my physical capabilities, Raphael, and I sincerely hope neither of us ever finds ourselves in a situation where such a demonstration becomes necessary." He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at me. "And… Raphael, my dear Pulla, you…" He took a breath, searching for the right words. "Some time ago, your concern, if I recall correctly, was the fear that my interest in you was solely predicated on… base physical desire, a notion that was, and remains, profoundly abhorrent to me. And now… the pendulum has swung in the opposite direction, and your concern is that I do not desire you at all? Once again, my dear, that is simply… incorrect. I will strive to articulate my desire more clearly, to demonstrate it more effectively, certainly. But… a part of my logical mind cannot help but consider that this current insecurity stems from within you, dear."

Ouch. He’s right. Again. I’m a mess. First, I’m worried he only wants me for sex, and now I’m worried he doesn’t want me at all. It’s exhausting being me. He’s not wrong. I know he’s not wrong. But knowing it and feeling it are two entirely different things. Now I have to deal with both my ridiculous insecurities and the guilt of making him feel like his efforts aren’t enough.

"But you have to understand, Levi…" I persisted, trying to articulate the core of my unease, "as much as I trust your control, and I do, implicitly, sometimes it feels… distant. Like you're observing me through a clinical lens, ensuring my safety, but not… fully immersed, not completely lost in the moment with me."

Levi regarded me with a thoughtful expression. "My dear Raphael," he replied, his tone measured, "why would you assume I am incapable of attending to multiple aspects of a situation simultaneously? Naturally, your safety remains paramount. However, allow me to offer a rather… egotistical perspective, then. We are no longer bound by the constraints of our previous contractual arrangement, wherein I might have felt a sense of obligation to fulfill certain expectations. Now, if I engage in sexual intimacy with you, it is because I desire to do so. If your wish is to experience me as… less controlled, less cautious, I reiterate that it is not a deeply ingrained behavioral pattern that I can easily discard. Although," a subtle shift occurred in his gaze, a hint of something akin to playful challenge, "for you, my dear Pulla, I might be persuaded to make a… concerted effort."

Ooh. Egotistical perspective. I like that.

"This might very well be the most embarrassing and utterly awkward conversation I have ever had in my entire life," I declared, a wave of mortification washing over me anew. Gods. I had essentially just begged my husband to fuck me harder, albeit within the framework of a consensual non-consensual roleplay. Seriously? "It all spiraled from a fleetingly shameful fantasy into a full-blown, emotionally charged discussion," I added.

Yep. Levi chuckled softly, amused but was thankfully devoid of judgment. "Hm… Since the concepts of embarrassment, insecurity, and shame are, entirely foreign to my internal experience, my dear," he stated, his gaze thoughtful, "it is not always a straightforward process for me to fully comprehend your emotional landscape unless you articulate them to me directly and with a degree of precision."

"Yeah… you're right. I need to be more open, more direct with you. I realized that yesterday, during that whole kava-induced truth-serum extravaganza. I went in expecting to share some mildly embarrassing anecdotes, and instead, I ended up vomiting my deepest, darkest fears to Finn. Ugh…" That gnawing fear of Levi eventually growing bored with me… that was still a tightly coiled knot in my chest, not quite ready to be untangled and laid bare. "Also," I asked, genuinely curious despite my lingering mortification, "what exactly do you mean by not feeling insecurity?"

"The absence of insecurity, my dear, stems from a fundamental difference in my neurobiological architecture and my cognitive processing. My frontal lobe does not form the same kind of bonding with social groups that is typical for humans, nor does it readily internalize the arbitrary social constructs that dictate what constitutes a 'fitting' member of a society. Consequently, there is no inherent shame in failing to adhere to these external obligations, no embarrassment over a perceived 'blunder' within these artificial frameworks, and no fear of social ostracization for a perceived failing. Therefore, the foundational elements that typically give rise to feelings of insecurity are simply absent in my internal landscape. Furthermore," he added, a hint of his characteristic dry wit returning, "my rather pronounced ego, a complex capable of comfortably eclipsing the sun, coupled with a healthy dose of misanthropy, would scarcely permit the intrusion of such a… diminutive emotion as insecurity."

Right. Insecurity would probably be crushed under the sheer weight of all that self-importance. He makes it sound like a pesky insect. Meanwhile, it feels like a goddamn kraken trying to drag me down half the time.

"My god," I chuckled, a vivid memory resurfacing, "I completely forgot how you recorded Finn's utterly awkward hug yesterday. And your utterly deadpan commentary, 'As if I would ever seek approval from neurotypicals'… your misanthropy is truly a unique brand of darkly hilarious."

"Ah, yes," Levi replied, a hint of a predatory smile playing on his lips. "To think that I devoted fifteen years of my existence to the futile pursuit of validation from… neurotypicals. It is, when viewed objectively, rather insulting to my inherent existence." He then leaned forward, his tone taking on a conspiratorial edge. "But that recording, my dear Raphael, is not mere amusement. It is an instrument of behavioral modification. Should dear Finn ever attempt to subject me to another of his… tactile assaults, that recording will be played on an endless loop within the confines of his apartment. And should he attempt to seek refuge here, the auditory torment will simply relocate. A most effective deterrent, wouldn't you say?"

I knew I should feel a pang of sympathy for Finn, but honestly, his overly enthusiastic embrace of the notoriously touch-averse Levi felt like a self-inflicted wound.

"Yeah, Levi," I chuckled, shaking my head, "even I don't subject you to hugs that linger for that long. It started out merely awkward to witness, but then it definitely veered into the realm of darkly comedic."

A strange light flickered in Levi's eyes, a spark of something I couldn't quite decipher. "Hm… Allow me to offer a brief demonstration of what I could have done, but refrained from doing, when Finn initiated that… physical interaction," he said. What in the seven hells was he planning? Before I could formulate a coherent question, his hand settled on my lower leg. In the blink of an eye, he exerted a sharp, decisive pull, yanking my legs out from under me and depositing me rather unceremoniously onto the cushions of the couch.

My legs just went from 'comfortably resting' to 'violently horizontal' in about half a second.

"I know you possess significant physical strength, Levi," I stated, a little breathless and genuinely bewildered by the sudden display, "but what exactly was the point of potentially fracturing my bone?" My mind, however, was betraying my mild alarm with a confusing surge of… arousal. Fuck. Was I truly this depraved? Why was I even asking? The answer was a resounding and shameful yes.

"Breaking your bones, my dear?" Levi echoed as he gracefully crawled over my supine form. "No, no, that would be entirely illogical and counterproductive. Another demonstration of… potentiality is clearly in order, I presume." His hand shot out, firmly grasping the waistband of my trousers. With a decisive yank that left no room for protest, he pulled them down, leaving me exposed on the couch in nothing but my underwear.

"It is undeniably scary, Levi," I confessed, my voice a little shaky, "and… strangely, undeniably hot. I'm admitting it. But… why would breaking my bones be illogical? What on earth does that even mean in this context?"

Levi reached down and firmly grasped both of my ankles. "If my desired outcome was to incapacitate you, my dear," he said, "I would hardly resort to such crude and pedestrian methods as fracturing bones. A few carefully placed snips to your tendons, or perhaps a mild but effective soporific, would be far more efficient and discreet." He then lowered his head, and a nibble traced a path along my right calf, sending a jolt of pure sensation through me.

Gods, the sheer nonchalance with which he discussed incapacitating me was both chilling and, I'm ashamed to admit, intensely stimulating. My brain had clearly short-circuited. Wait. Wait a minute. Tendons. Snipping tendons… that phrase… it was echoing somewhere in the recesses of my mind. That bizarre, vivid dream. The one about Villain Levi.

Apparently, somewhere deep my subconscious, I harbor a desire for Levi to embrace his darker inclinations… at least within the confines of our bedroom.

"Well…" I admitted, my voice a husky whisper, "you are scaring the absolute shit out of me, Levi. But… I'm also undeniably, disturbingly intrigued."

Levi's teeth grazed my calf once more, this time a bit gentler. "Oh?" he mused, a note of unmistakable amusement lacing his tone. "A little more… power play, then, my dear Raphael?" His grip on my ankles remained firm, and he pressed the weight of his lower body directly onto my buttocks. The sudden, crushing pressure stole my breath and sent a fresh wave of sensation coursing through me.

"You have me pinned already, Levi," I breathed out, my body already anticipating his next move. "What more could you possibly do?"

"That is truly the most elementary aspect," he replied. The weight on my backside vanished as he released my ankles, the slight throbbing already receding under his touch. He stood up from the couch and reached down, his strong hands gripping my thighs with firmness. He then exerted a forceful pull, hauling my body upwards and towards him. I found myself in an awkward, thrillingly vulnerable position – half-lying, half-sitting, completely at his mercy.

"A brute force approach, Levi? Is that the extent of your repertoire?"

"By all means, my dear Raphael," he replied, a dangerous glint sparking in his eyes, "I implore you to attempt escape."

A foolish impulse, fueled by stubborn refusal to be so easily dominated, prompted me to wriggle my body. However, my pathetic attempt at resistance was met with an immediate and far more forceful tightening of his grip on my bare thighs. His fingers dug into my flesh, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. Shit, that actually hurt.

"It hurts, Levi…" I gasped out. Yes. I was glad it hurt.

He released my thighs. "Run. There won't be a next time."

I knew that glint in his eyes.

Let's play that chase.

Without another word, I scrambled off the couch, darting towards the bedroom.

My mind raced, searching for a hiding spot. The bathroom flashed through my thoughts – shower sex was a tempting distraction, but the wet tiles and the very real possibility of me slipping and cracking my precious butt quickly nixed that idea. Under the bed? Absolutely not. I was allergic to the dust bunnies lurking beneath that abyss, and the thought of emerging with a face full of itchy welts was a definite mood killer. No, the wardrobe it was. Bland, perhaps, but offering a modicum of concealment. I darted towards the dark wooden doors, hoping to gain a precious few seconds of respite before the inevitable recapture.

The moment my knees hit the carpet inside the wardrobe, the clink of the bedroom door latch echoed through the room. Ah, yes. He was here.

I pressed myself deeper into the hanging clothes as I strained to listen. Measured steps circled the room. He was taking his time, savoring the anticipation, searching with a languid confidence that sent a shiver down my spine. Then, I heard the creak of the wardrobe door hinges.

"Found you," he purred. A beam of light pierced the darkness, momentarily blinding me. Before I could even blink, before I could formulate a witty retort, his strong hand snaked in, his fingers closing around the collar of my shirt and with a swift, forceful tug, he hauled me out of my meager hiding place.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"Ouch," I grunted, a sharp sting shooting up my neck. Levi remained unfazed by my discomfort. If anything, his grip around my collar seemed to tighten as he dragged me across the room, my bare feet scuffing against the rug, until we reached the edge of the bed. With a push, he sent me tumbling onto the mattress, the impact stealing my breath for a moment. But amidst the slight disorientation, a thrill, both anticipated and slightly terrifying, coursed through me. Yes. It was definitely happening.

"I am not inherently invested in the tedious pursuit of fragile rabbits," Levi said. "but one must occasionally indulge in the simpler pleasures.”

Spurred by a surge of adrenaline and a stubborn refusal to be easily recaptured, I pushed myself up onto my elbows, attempting an undignified shimmy across the mattress. Levi merely smiled wider. "Still running?" he purred. "Delicious."

He leaned further onto the bed, his strong hands settling firmly on my waist. He exerted a powerful pull, effortlessly dragging my body back towards his. Fuck. He was so impossibly, overwhelmingly strong. My futile struggle was like a fly caught in a spider's web.

The condescending bastard. The sheer ease with which he overpowered me was infuriating, yet… undeniably, shamefully hot. I didn't want this thrilling, dangerous game to end just yet. A kick was out of the question; the risk of hitting his still-healing abdomen was too high. Biting? Yes. Biting felt suitably primal, suitably defiant. I pushed myself up from the mattress and lunged at his arm, teeth bared. Bad idea. In a casual movement, his hand clamped around my throat, anchoring me back against the mattress. I really shouldn't have forgotten his bizarre, highly effective self-defense training from his upbringing. Apparently, even noble children learned how to subdue unruly… Pullas.

Levi chuckled softly. "I am not even exerting my full strength, Pulla," he purred, his eyes gleaming with amusement at my struggle. Asshole. What did he mean, not even using his strength? His hand was a steel manacle around my windpipe, cutting off my air supply. I clawed at his forearm, trying to pry his grip loose, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

"Your diet is ninety percent sugar, with the occasional bland oatmeal and overly ripe fruits…" I gasped out, clutching at my windpipe. "What in the actual fuck is the source of this ridiculous strength? Fuck…" I wheezed, my throat raw and protesting. Levi, with a languid grace, eased his grip on my trachea, allowing a blessed rush of air to fill my starved lungs.

"My grandfather, harbored aspirations for me to follow in his footsteps as a Marshall of the Realm," he stated, his gaze sweeping over my half-naked form, an appreciation in his eyes as he patiently waited for my breathing to even out. "And, as you are undoubtedly aware, my dear Pulla, my record in formal duels stands at an unblemished thirty-seven victories with zero defeats. Strength, you see, is not merely a matter of crude musculature; it is the ingrained, instinctual training to react to and neutralize any perceived threat."

"Ugh…" I wheezed, still catching my breath. "I always conveniently forget about your… fallen ducal status. Maybe we should have a duel of our own sometime."

"Ah, that would be a delightful diversion," Levi replied, a hint of a dangerous smile playing on his lips. "But I assume you recall the nature of my youthful dueling 'prowess,' as Isolde has regaled you with the tales."

Yes. Levi, the bored, arrogant teenage duke, wouldn't bother with actual attacks in formal duels. Endless deflections, blocks, all punctuated by a steady stream of creative insults designed to erode his opponent's focus and stamina. He would simply wait, until his opponent tired themselves out, then swiftly, almost dismissively, disarm them.

Charming.

"Gods, Levi… that wasn't even remotely close to breath play; you genuinely incapacitated me for a moment there," I said, still rubbing my throat.

Levi remained standing at the edge of the bed. "Ah, now that we find ourselves on this particular subject," he mused, his gaze unwavering, "there is a rather crucial inquiry I must pose before we continue our… journey. Do you harbor a desire to engage in a specific roleplay scenario, my dear Raphael, or are you presently content with my… demonstrative display of 'forcefulness'?"

Content with his 'demonstrative display of forcefulness'? Well, it certainly got my attention, and a certain part of me is undeniably buzzing. But 'content'? No. Not entirely. There's a delicious tension in the air, a sense of barely leashed power. A roleplay could channel that, direct it, make it even more… intentional. Gods, which one? The captive prince? The reluctant supplicant? Or something… darker? Something that acknowledges that flicker of something I saw in Villain Levi's eyes…

"Ooh…" I mused aloud. "Maybe… a stranger roleplay? Perhaps you could be… a thief, or something?"

The moment the words left my lips, a wince crossed my face. Had I really just blurted out something that sounded like it crawled straight from the depths of a cheap porn site? Ugh.

"Hm… My Pulla still finds himself drawn to the allure of the… 'non-consensual' dynamic," he observed. "But," he continued, his eyes piercing mine, "he also harbors a certain apprehension, doesn't he? A fear that after such an encounter, he might perceive his husband… differently than before."

Fuck.

"Rest assured, my dear Raphael, I have other, perhaps more nuanced, ideas regarding the exploration of the 'non-consensual' aspect. And I trust," he added, "that you recall our safe words?"

"Not the way your mind might conjure it, no," I conceded, a nervous energy bubbling beneath my attempt at nonchalance. "But… the potential for that kind of dynamic… it's… somewhere in the tangled mess that is my subconscious. So, yes. Also," I added, a touch of defensiveness creeping into my tone, "could you please refrain from psychoanalyzing my deepest fears and desires while I'm half-naked and still recovering from being choked? It's making me feel emotionally naked, which, trust me, is far more disconcerting than physical nudity."

Levi inclined his head, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "Very well, then. Let us establish some fundamental parameters for our… exploration. Utterances such as 'stop,' 'no more,' or 'it hurts' will be noted but ultimately disregarded by me. I will, of course, respond immediately and without question to the agreed-upon safe word. I will absent myself to my own chambers for a brief interlude. During this time, perhaps you could contemplate whether a specific scenario has taken root in your imagination, or if you possess any particular suggestions, inclinations, or… any other pertinent desires." With a quiet grace that was both unnerving and strangely alluring, he turned and left the room.

Actually, if I'm being honest with myself, that disregard for the usual boundaries… that inherent risk… it's what's stirring this excitement within me. To be used… Gods, the shame that washes over me even in this private confession is intense. But the anticipation, the knowledge that he'll be back any second now… it overrides the embarrassment. Driven by a sudden impulse, I reached for the top drawer of the bedside table and retrieved the bottle of lube. Pain I might tolerate, even crave in a certain context, but friction? Absolutely not. No amount of masochistic inclination would make dry entry enjoyable, or even feasible. So, practicality, however unromantic, took precedence. I shed the rest of my clothes completely. Perhaps a robe? After a few moments of preparation, I padded over to the wardrobe and selected a flowing silk robe, wrapping it loosely around my naked form.

Just as the soft fabric settled against my skin, the click of the door latch echoed through the room. Before I could even turn, Levi's fingers firmly cupped my jaw. My eyes remained fixed on the rows of clothing within the wardrobe as I registered the warmth of his body pressing against my back.

"Certainly a rather… commanding entrance, Your Grace."

"Ah?" Levi mused, tilting my head slightly. "What is that I detect? Are you under the quaint delusion that I require the mere formality of a title to feel inherently superior, Pulla? Please."

Of course he doesn't need the title. The way he moves, the way he looks at me, the casual power he exudes… it all screams 'superior'. He knows it too, the smug bastard. That's why he's holding my jaw like this, keeping me pinned, making me listen. He doesn't need a title. He just is.

"You certainly do command attention like royalty, Your Grace," I conceded. The guy's ego, I swear, had its own gravitational pull.

"Obviously," Levi said. "Now, now," he continued, his voice softening to a low purr, "before your heart attempts to perforate my eardrums with its enthusiastic palpitations, endeavor to cast your gaze downwards." His grip on my jaw remained firm but allowed a limited range of motion. I strained against his hold, managing to tilt my head downwards. My eyes landed on a black leather bag resting on the bedside table. Ooh! The toys.

"Ah, so you've finally deigned to unleash your arsenal upon this 'fragile rabbit,' Your Grace?" I quipped. Enough of this prolonged staring contest with his closet. It was time for a shift in power, however fleeting. I lunged forward, twisting my body, and managed to slip free from his grip on my jaw. Taking a single step, I walked past him, putting a sliver of distance between us. He, the devilishly patient predator, allowed me that illusion of freedom. Because in the very next instant, his hand clamped around my arm with a forceful grip that brooked no argument. Then, his body pressed against my back, and he steered me forward, guiding my steps towards the bed.

I dug my heels into the rug, attempting to halt our marching. He merely chuckled. "Ah, dear," he purred. He bent my arm sharply behind my back, a searing pain shooting through my shoulder. "It wouldn't even necessitate a monumental exertion on my part to simply tear this fragile little limb from its socket."

"Try me, Your Grace," I spat out, the defiance a brittle shield against the rising tide of fear. He wouldn't actually tear it off, would he? Surely not. Dislocate it, maybe.

He rested his chin on my shoulder, his body pressing even closer, urging me forward. "Ah, my Pulla knows precisely how to ignite my interest," he murmured, a dangerous edge to his voice. "Little rabbit, knows that my most exquisite poison is the taste of defiance."

Unexpectedly, he released my arm. What the hell? Before I could process the sudden freedom, his strong arms slammed into the small of my back, right below my ribcage. The force of it stole my breath. And then, he swiftly kicked the back of my knee with his. My legs instantly turned to jelly, buckling beneath me. Shit. I was suddenly dangling, my weight supported entirely by his arms, my legs useless appendages. With a dismissive shove, he deposited me unceremoniously onto the mattress.

My god, this was familiar. That exact maneuver, he'd pulled that on me just two days ago. How could I be so utterly inept at anticipating his tactics? My face slammed into the mattress, the sensation akin to being struck by a battering ram. Definitely not pleasant. But… a shameful heat still coiled in my belly. Fuck. I couldn't see what he was doing, but the rustling and clinking sounds from the bag were a clear indication. He was selecting his instruments. Preparing for the next stage of my… delightful torment. Then, I felt his gaze sweep over my back, no doubt taking in the loose silk robe. "Hm, my Pulla seeks to conceal his… shame, very well," he purred, a knowing amusement in his tone. His fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head sharply upwards. Ouch. A sting of pain shot through my scalp, but even that was tainted with a shameful spark of arousal. As he lifted my face from the matress, a fabric brushed against my forehead, and the darkness. A blindfold.

"It's not shame, it's anticipation, Your Grace," I retorted. Brilliant, Raphael. Keep poking the bear.

His hands closed around my ankles. What fresh hell was this? Was he going to drag me back towards him again? But no… instead of pulling, he lifted my ankles, holding them aloft, then positioned them close together. Ugh. The bastard was going to bind my ankles. I could feel the rope being looped around them. I tried to twist my feet, to pull my legs away, but it was useless. His grip tightened, his nails digging sharply into my ankles, effectively immobilizing me. Gods. I fucking loved it.

"Oh, I gather Your Grace finds himself… disinterested in the pedestrian realms of foreplay." I retorted, a blatant invitation for further transgression.

He didn't deign to respond verbally. Instead, he lifted the robe from my back, exposing my bare skin. A single finger pressed against my entrance. "My Pulla has already taken the necessary… preparatory measures for me," he purred, his breath warm against my neck as he smoothly slid two lubricated fingers inside.

"Cutting to the chase, Your Grace?" I managed, my voice a little breathless, his touch already making my skin prickle. Levi swiftly withdrew his fingers.

"Pulla," he murmured, "if you intend to continue your… commentary, you will at least accompany it with a more appreciative vocalization. Otherwise," he warned, "I will be forced to implement more direct methods of ensuring your silence."

The sound of fabric rustling and a soft thud against the floor reached my ears. He was taking off his pants.

Is he serious? I'm tied up and blindfolded, and he wants me to… moan on command? The audacity. Gag me? He wouldn't… would he?

"Ooh, is Your Grace finding my insightful commentary… bothersome?" I couldn't resist the jab. My big mouth was going to be the death of me.

Levi didn't climb onto the bed, yet I felt the pressure of the tip of his cock pressing against my entrance. Then, he leaned in close, and before I could utter another foolish word, three of his fingers clamped firmly over my mouth, applying pressure to my tongue. Well. What an indignified way to be silenced. I had almost expected a gag, some impersonal restraint, but this… this felt far more humiliating.

He leaned to my ear. "Does this adequately address your query, Pulla?" he murmured. Yes. It did. Any lingering urge to provoke him vanished, replaced by a more primal awareness of his control. I am not going to be a bitch again. A promise I knew I'd break. I managed a jerky nod, a desperate plea for him to cease the pressure. "Do not dare to test my patience again," he warned, before withdrawing his fingers. Then, the weight of his chest lifted slightly from my back, only to be replaced by the insistent pressure of his cock tip pressing once more against my entrance.

Levi had always savored the torment of a slow burn, so the deliberate teasing, while intense, wasn't unexpected. In fact, a heat was already building, antipicating his next move. I felt his warm palms press against my buttocks, spreading them wider, opening me completely. I sucked in a deep breath, bracing myself for the inevitable. With a brutal force I hadn't anticipated, he thrust himself fully inside. Oh, sweet, agonizing FUCK. He had never done that before. A raw sound, a yell, a scream, and a moan, ripped from my throat. It hurt, a searing, tearing sensation that brought a flood of tears to my eyes.

"The fuck…" I choked out, my voice ragged and thin. "Levi… gods… that hurt like hell."

My breath hitched in my throat. What if he started to move? I thought my body might just… break. A desperate, whimpering sound escaped me. I'm sorry, Levi. I'm so fucking sorry for even suggesting we loosen the safety. We should absolutely stick to the safety.

"That is the grand idea, is it not?" Levi murmured. But, mercifully, he remained still. Thank fucking god.

"I... wasn't anticipating... that," I managed, my jaw clenched against the lingering throb.

"Pulla," he murmured, his voice softening slightly. "We can certainly endeavor to be a touch more… gentle, if that is your preference now. I operated under the assumption that you might find a certain… thrill in the disregard of your discomfort, given our earlier discussion. But I gather that perhaps… this initial foray was a tad excessive?" he inquired.

A tad excessive? It felt like I'd been split in two! Gentle? Yes, please, gentle. What kind of masochist am I that I thought I could handle that? The thrill of disregard sounded so much better in theory. Now I just feel raw and stretched and… regretting my life choices. But… there's also that tiny, shameful flicker again. The fact that he just… took. That he was so utterly dominant. Stop it, Raphael. Focus on the pain. Focus on the need for him to be gentle. Don't let the arousal creep back in.

"Levi… please… just… don't move," I gasped out, each word punctuated by a shallow, shaky breath.

Swiftly, the blindfold was whisked away, and the influx of light stabbed at my eyes, making me squint. Then, with an equally swift and efficient series of movements, the tight ropes binding my ankles were loosened.

"Thanks…" I managed, wincing as a fresh wave of throbbing pain radiated through me. "Shit… it still really hurts."

Levi shifted, leaning onto my back. "I am sorry, my dear," he murmured, his voice soft, almost tender. "It will pass… I can withdraw if that is your desire."

"No, no, please don't… Perhaps… perhaps just move a little?"

Levi pulled his hips back just a fraction, a small movement that nonetheless elicited a sharp whimper from me. "Dear, take deep breaths for me," he instructed softly, and began to move with glacial slowness. I focused on his words, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, trying to regain some semblance of control over my body. To be honest, that thick unyielding length, felt less like flesh and more like a solid piece of wood. I could almost feel it stretching and pressing against my internal organs. But the deep breaths, his incredibly gentle movements, and clenching my abdominal muscles seemed to offer a fragile anchor against the waves of discomfort.

"It's… impossibly deep," I breathed out.

"Ssh… my dear Raphael," Levi murmured, a soothing baritone that seemed to resonate through my very bones. "I will not move quickly. I will be gentle."

The warmth of his hands settled on my waist, his thumbs beginning to trace slow circles against my skin. The persistent discomfort momentarily receded, like a tide pulling back from the shore. I felt… oddly vulnerable, strangely soothed. Like a lamb. A lamb, perhaps only moments from the slaughter, finding a fleeting comfort in the warmth of the wolf's mighty fur, lulled by its deep, resonant voice. The fuck am I even imagining? This whole scenario was insane.

No, hold on. Maybe… maybe that was the key. Forget the thief, forget the intruder. What if… what if we shifted the dynamic entirely? What if we engaged in a 'first time' roleplay? The almost hesitant movements, the soothing words… it all painted a picture of a tender, albeit still intense, initiation. Yes. That felt… right.

"Levi," I murmured, my voice low and conspiratorial, "come closer. I want to whisper something to you. Don't say it out loud, just… go with it." He leaned in, his ear close to my lips, and I breathed out my sudden fantasy.

"Truly, Raphael," he whispered back, "the remarkable ease with which you manage to compose yourself always manages to elicit a certain… surprise. But very well. As you wish."

He has no idea the internal gymnastics I just went through. It's a survival mechanism, I suppose. A way to regain some semblance of control in this utterly chaotic situation.

"Just… be gentle," I repeated. "Like it really is the first time."

"Well," Levi replied, a thoughtful pause in his voice, "if we are venturing down that particular path, I have a suggestion."