He gently placed me on the bed, his eyes never leaving mine. He began to remove my clothes, not bothering to remove his own. I reached out to take off his shirt, but he glanced at me, and I stopped. A silent command froze my hand in midair.

Does he have a big scar there or something? He's seen me naked on multiple occasions. I briefly touched and looked at his chest and abdomen the first time. Why is he so hesitant?

"Rather rude that your mind still wanders," he said, his voice cold and dismissive. He removed my clothes and pants completely with ease, caressing and touching my body everywhere. It wasn't enough; I wanted more. I grabbed his collar and pulled him to me, our lips clashing. Ah, I missed it. His soft, intoxicating lips.

I wanted him with a ferocity that surprised even me. He responded in kind, his hands tightening on my body, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us.

I tangled my fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. I wanted to lose myself in him, to forget the games, the power plays, the carefully constructed facades.

Finally, I could feel his eagerness between my legs, too. The feeling of being wanted. I moved against him, my body seeking his, desperate for the friction, the heat.

I watched him take off his pants and reach for the drawer to get lube and a condom. It felt weird thinking Levi occasionally engaged in this act in this bed. We are talking about Levi. It wasn't jealousy. No, not really. It was more like a part of Levi admitting that he also sought the same connection that I did.

Or he wasn't as durable to pleasure as he claimed. It made him human in my eyes, again. Fuck me, I caved in to this lion, again.

"What were you thinking about?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Nothing, shut up," I quickly replied. I was thinking how he might be human, my mistake.

"Lying, again? My, my." He squeezed lube around my hole, the coldness of it making me shiver. His finger pressed against me, slowly teasing, making my breath hitch in anticipation. Circling, then slowly pushing inside. I took a deep breath, embracing that familiar sensation, eagerly wanting more. A low moan escaped my lips, a sound I couldn't suppress.

What restraint this man had. His dick, in its glory, was there, dripping and glistening with precum. But he wasn't hasty, slowly taking his time, exploring everything. He slid another finger in, sending me toward an exhilarating edge.

He hovered over me, watching my face while torturing me below; his unwavering attention was... pure electric.

Each deliberate movement sent heat coursing through me, propelling me closer to the brink. I arched my back, my hips moving instinctively against his touch, desperate for the release he withheld.

"Eagerness is fascinating to watch. Did you know that your nipples get pinker and pinker as you get close to finishing?" he asked.

His detached observation chilled me, reminding me of how exposed I truly was. He's watching me. I felt ashamed to admit how amazing it felt, overwhelmed by shame and desire. I attempted to hide my face with my hands, desperation washing over me.

He grabbed my wrists tightly with his empty hand. "You broke my heart; how can you deny me the sight of your face?"

I felt even more ashamed. He's playing. Don't give in.

The force and the heat I felt in my wrists took me another step closer to the edge. "Oh, Vexia, you enjoy compliments, do you? You just clenched." The casual observation, delivered in that low, almost amused tone, sent a wave of heat through my body. He sees everything.

His voice, laced with a predatory softness that heightened the tension, murmured, "If it’s what you desire, I must comply."

His finger picked up the pace, moving in and out; the sounds of flesh hitting flesh were the final straw. "You always look captivating," he whispered into my ear, and I erupted so quickly, Levi would use this as teasing ammunition until the end of time.

A low groan escaped my lips, a sound of pure, uninhibited release. A wave of raw, unadulterated pleasure washed over me, a release so intense it bordered on pain. My body shuddered, feeling flushed and aroused, warmth radiating from my skin.

He paused, his fingers still inside me, his eyes fixed on mine, a dark, predatory gleam in their depths. "Beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Utterly… captivating."

He slowly withdrew his fingers, sending shivers through my body. As he withdrew his fingers, the sensation left me feeling achingly raw and exposed, my body still trembling while my heart wrestled with a mix of liberation and sudden vulnerability.

I lay there, my body still trembling, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I turned away, unable to meet his gaze, shame burning my cheeks.

I could hear the fabric rustling, and Levi putting the condom on. The rustling stopped, replaced by the subtle shift of his weight on the bed. I could feel his gaze on me, heavy and intense, even though I refused to meet his eyes.

…

Levi sensed the sudden mood swing, the way my breath hitched almost imperceptibly. He gently leaned in and asked, "Raphael, is something the matter?"

I didn't want to answer, didn't want to meet his eyes and confront him. I lay on my side, curling slightly, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on me. He mirrored my position, settling onto his back beside me. His gentle demeanor, the unexpected tenderness in his voice, was a jarring, unwelcome sense of… connection.

My voice barely audible, a mere breath, I mumbled, "I feel defeated, I guess."

"Why? This is not a battle, not a fight..." he said, his voice buttery and convincing..

"I still feel like I lost," I mumbled under my breath, the words almost lost in the tangle of my own thoughts.

"Well," he said, a hint of amusement coloring his tone, "we'll start again then."

He reminded me of what I had said minutes ago, throwing my own words back at me with a playful challenge. His sudden gentleness was throwing me off balance, making me believe, against my better judgment, that something or someone vulnerable still resided beneath that carefully constructed facade. He shifted closer, the heat of his body radiating against my back, a subtle invitation.

"Let me help you forget."

He reached out, his hand light and cold, and placed it over my eyes, completely covering my sight, plunging me into a velvety darkness. The world narrowed, the visual distractions fading away, leaving the other senses heightened. The only thing I needed to be concerned about was his touch, the feel of his breath on my skin, the anticipation of what was to come. His empty hand grabbed and lifted my leg. A sudden rustling of fabric, the whisper of air as he shifted, and then he was inside me, in full, possessive thrust.

At first, there is pain, a stretching, burning sensation as your walls slowly yield, everything inside you trying to accommodate the unfamiliar intrusion, to find its rightful place. Then the anticipation of pleasure, a hesitant bloom amidst the discomfort. He wasn't moving, holding himself still, waiting for me to recalibrate, to adjust. The stillness, the enforced pause, was almost more agonizing than the initial pain. It allowed the sensations to build, to intensify, to coil within me until I was a taut string, stretched to the breaking point.

He began to move, slowly at first, a measured exploration, then with increasing speed and intensity.

The pain receded, pushed back by a growing pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me, to consume me entirely. I arched my back, my hips moving against his, desperate for more, seeking a deeper connection, a more profound release.

The darkness heightened every sensation, amplifying the feel of his skin against mine, the slickness of sweat, the raw rhythm of his thrusts, the relentless pounding, the heat that built within me with each powerful stroke, threatening to erupt.

After a while, his lips grazed my ear, his breath hot and moist, and he started nibbling on the lobe, his teeth gentle yet insistent, whispering a command in that low voice that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. "Squeeze your abs for me."

I did as he asked, muscles contracting involuntarily, only feeling his dick inside me more clearly, the pressure intensifying, the connection deepening. A raw cry, a sound torn from the depths of my being, escaped my mouth. Heat was building inside me, coiling tighter and tighter. He rested his chin on my shoulder. I could feel his breaths in my ear, warm and rhythmic.

The absolute silent plea, the frantic dance of two bodies clashing in constant rhythm. The silence, broken only by the sounds of our bodies, the wet slap of skin, the ragged gasps, it was a language that transcended words, a primal conversation spoken in touch and movement.

Does he feel the same way that I do? Does he crave this connection, this release, with the same desperate intensity? Desperately clinging on the pleasure, praying for the release of this moment to finally come, to shatter the tension that held us both captive?

I wished to see his face, so I grabbed his wrist that was blocking my view, my fingers tightening on his skin, turning my face to him. He was shocked by my sudden defiance, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but he complied with it, his gaze locking with mine. I wanted to take one step closer, to bridge the remaining gap between us, so I kissed him.

A desperate, devouring kiss, a raw and urgent claiming, forcing him to break down his walls, to abandon his control.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening slightly, before responding with a ferocity that mirrored my own, a hunger that matched my own desperation.

His hands, no longer restraining me, moved to my hair, tangling in the strands, his fingers digging into my scalp, pulling me closer, as if trying to merge our bodies into one. A low groan rumbled in his chest, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through my body, sending a jolt of electricity through my veins. As much as I enjoyed being the little spoon, the submissive position, my neck was about to break from the awkward angle, so, with a groan of my own, I pushed myself up onto my knees, gently but firmly pushing him to lay down on his back, reversing our roles.

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There was no denying the raw intensity of the moment, the undeniable heat that pulsed between us. We were both caught in its grip, teetering on the edge of release. Possibly, his unexpected gentleness at the start had lulled me into a false sense of security, made my mind fuzzy.

He didn't protest as I got on top, taking the reins. I grabbed his dick, thick and hard in my hand, the feel of him powerful and demanding. He was patiently waiting for me to take my time, to find the courage, to fully claim this moment.

"Are you going to back down, now? I would be disappointed," he murmured, his voice a low growl, laced with a hint of challenge, a dangerous edge that both thrilled and intimidated.

Never, never to you.

Damn, I played into his hands again. I clenched my jaw, pushing aside the lingering vulnerability, preparing myself for the initial stretch, the sharp sensation.

The first stretch, the initial tightness, was a painful reminder of his size, of the way he filled me. I hissed in a breath, my body tensing in protest, but I didn't stop, driven by a need that overrode the discomfort.

Deep breaths or shallow breaths didn't help, my lungs burning, tiny moans escaping my lips, disappearing into the humid silence of the room. I moved against him, slowly at first, savoring the sensation, then with increasing speed and intensity, trying to find a rhythm that would ease the discomfort, amplify the pleasure, and drive us both closer to the edge.

He was, once again, being patient, biding his time, letting me set the pace. One might think it's him being a gentleman, a respectful lover, but it is also an open challenge, subtly telling you even if you bounce on him, ride him, push him to the edge, you can't make him lose his cool.

I could feel my legs losing their strength, trembling from the relentless moving, the exertion taking its toll. So Levi, with a low growl that vibrated through me, grabbed my hips, his grip firm. "Vexia, let your husband do his job."

Yeah, ever the dutiful. His hands tightened on my hips, taking command of the rhythm, his movements becoming more forceful, more demanding, each thrust pushing me further, faster, closer to the edge. I clenched my jaw, biting back a cry, trying to suppress the sounds that threatened to escape my lips, to reveal the raw vulnerability he seemed so determined to unlock.

"You have a beautiful voice, Raphael. Let me hear it," he said softly, his voice a silken caress against my skin, a deliberate provocation.

I wanted him to praise me more, to urge me on.

I cried out, my voice raw and desperate, a sound of surrender and ecstasy. My body convulsed, muscles clenching around him, desperate to hold onto the sensation, to prolong the exquisite agony of release.

He was right. Why deny myself this pleasure for the sake of pride?

The admission was another defeat, but I was glad to be defeated. "Yes," I gasped, my breath ragged and uneven. "Yes, Levi."

A smile reached his face. It was rare to see him smile, but when you did, it was a fleeting view of a paradise, a glimpse of something breathtakingly beautiful.

All the time he was patient, restrained, but my admission, my surrender, seemed to snap something within him, unleashing a torrent of pent-up desire. A relentless, unforgiving pace took over, driving into me with a fierce intensity that stole my breath.

Was this punishment for being a fool?

Whether reward or punishment, I couldn't decipher; one thing was for sure: pure pleasure. It hit me like a tidal wave, washed over me, leaving me shuddering and shaking, unable to hold back the cries that tore from my throat, a violent release that shattered every pretense. The aftershocks of my release rippled through me, leaving me weak.

"You have been incredibly rude to me all evening, finished twice without me," he said, his voice laced with amusement and a hint of reproach, a smirk playing on his lips. "Don't you perhaps think I require at least some release for my efforts?"

He asked, knowing full well that in that exhausted aftermath, I couldn't defy him. But my body was exhausted, every muscle screaming in protest, and Levi... the damn lion, barely broke a sweat, his breathing only slightly heavier. He was still inside me, twitching, waiting for me to either keep moving or leave him.

"I am... exhausted," I admitted, still trying to catch my breath.

Levi took a leisurely glance at his t-shirt, damp with sweat, and then his gaze drifted to the bed sheets, now stained with my cum. "Raphael," he said, his voice a low rumble, laced with a playful drawl, "I thought you were a Vexia, but Pulla might be more accurate, I suppose."

Pulla, Vexia...

I frowned, my brow furrowing in confusion. "What do they mean?"

Levi's lips curved into a slow smile. He leaned back against the headboard, his expression almost condescending. "Oh, you didn't study the old language, did you? Always rushing, skipping steps... Like a Pulla."

"What are those?" I asked with a subtle annoyance.

"Now, now. I have more pressing matters," he said, his dick twitched again, reminding me how he needed his release too.

Even though he wasn’t pressuring or begging, given our two encounters, Levi saying that meant he wanted to continue too. There was no mistaking the intent in his eyes, playful tease in his tone. I was still exhausted, and I wanted to really know if he wanted me, too. So I expected another sign from him.

"Raphael, God punished you by giving you an honest body and face. As if it wasn’t enough, it led you to me."

He placed his hand on my inner thighs, slowly caressing, coaxing out another arousal. My body quickly gave in. Again. Damn, lion. He watched as my dick slowly filled with blood, having another erection. Levi was inexperienced with men, so everything was new for him.

As he watched me, droplets of precum glistening at my tip, he leaned his face close to my crotch, the movement both deliberate and curious. Oh, what's he doing? A jolt of surprise shot through me. "Wait—"

"I am simply curious," he murmured, his voice a low vibration against my skin.

Then, before I could fully process his intention, he traced his tongue over my tip, the sensation hot and shocking.

Shut up, Levi. You don’t suck someone’s dick because of curiosity. Also, he clearly didn't know what he was doing; his technique was mostly small, experimental kisses and tentative licking all over my shaft.

The position, me sitting on top of him, was becoming increasingly awkward, my muscles straining to maintain balance. So, with a sigh, I stopped him with a gentle touch. Slowly, carefully, I lifted myself. Even though I was slow and careful, given his impressive size, the undeniable emptiness was agony at first; a stretching sensation made me gasp.

I laid back on the bed. He didn’t hesitate to get up and crawl over to my crotch again. This was the first time I saw the top of his head. His dark hair was always neatly parted; the pale skin of his scalp complemented the richness.

He slowly dipped his head. I gasped. He was going to do it again. His breath was hot against my skin as he nuzzled into my thigh; his hands were gripping my hips to steady himself. It was a loose grip; he was apprehensive.

"Levi," I said, with a soft murmur, but he cut me off, looking coyly.

"You must excuse my inexperience."

And then he was there, his lips wet against my skin. He wasn’t confident or assertive. Simply brushing his lips to explore something unfamiliar. He licked, kissed, and nipped, his tongue tracing my dick with a nervous energy.

It was...hilarious to watch. The angles were off, the pressure was inconsistent. He didn’t know where to focus.

Imagining, the Saint of Ascaria, Levi Blake, didn’t know how to suck dick was hilarious. Also, the technique wasn’t impressive, yes. But the view… Oh, the view.

I know he had a presence that took over the room from the first time I saw him. But seeing the same man licking and kissing my shaft to please me, was like watching an unstoppable force clashing with an unmovable object.

Even though his… admiration was fun to watch, damn, it was frustrating. He was clearly trying, but his technique was all over the place.

"Levi, just…" I reached out, my fingers grasping his chin, tilting his head slightly. "Focus on the tip, okay? And, no sucking too hard."

His eyes met mine, and I saw something that resembled determination. He nodded slightly, then continued. It was… better. Still clumsy, still hesitant, but better. The sensations sharpened, intensified, and a low moan escaped.

Then Levi finally found his courage and wrapped his lip around my dick, slowly taking me into his mouth.

The heat was intense, the pressure firm but not painful, and the unfamiliar fullness sent a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. It was still rough, still lacking the practiced finesse of someone who knew what they were doing, but… It was Levi’s mouth. My dick was in his mouth.

I gripped the sheets, my body arching slightly, the world narrowing to the feel of his mouth on me. It was a strange, disorienting experience. While another moan escaped from me...

Levi choked.

He immediately pulled himself back, coughing while closing his mouth. His brows were furrowed; his face was flushed with sweat.

So, fucking, cute.

Damn, I found this lion cute. The composed, terrifying Levi Blake, reduced to sputtering and blushing over a simple misstep. "Accept my apologies," he said, with a rough voice. It was an unexpected turn of events. As much as his agony was fun to watch, I didn’t want to torture him anymore.

"I’ll teach you… Later," I said with a playful tease. We were at it for nearly an hour, and he didn’t even finish once. How far restraint can go? Ever the dutiful again. It was admirable, in a way, this unwavering resolve, this dedication to pleasing me, even when he was clearly on the edge. But it was also a little frustrating.

I grabbed his dick gently, my fingers closing around its length. "Just put it in," I said. Levi crawled and hovered over me, his face directly over mine. He pried my legs open with a smooth movement. This time he was slow when he entered me. A low groan escaped from him, and he squeezed his eyes shut. He must be really close to the edge.

Levi, never used cuss words, always had his noble tone, and I have a potty mouth. I was curious about how he would react to some dirty talk.

"Levi…" I murmured with a suggestive voice.

"Yes, Raphael," he replied with a low, strained voice. I took a deep breath, an adrenaline rush making its way to my chest.

"Your dick is fucking amazing, it fills me up so good," I purred, tilting my hips.

Levi opened his eyes and blinked slowly, processing the unexpected vulgarity. The initial reaction was his usual detached stare. Then slowly, subtly, came acceptance. I wasn’t sure whether he liked it. But he clearly didn’t hate it either.

The gears were still turning in his head; he was clearly also confused about his reaction. Nevertheless, he took it as an act of rebellion, and he knew how to crush masses. He moved then, his hands gripping my hips with a renewed purpose, his thrusts becoming deeper, more insistent.

A loud moan and a cry echoed in the room. He was reaching much deeper, with stronger thrusts. He wasn't this forceful before. "Fuck, yes! Harder!" I gasped out, my voice raw and desperate. But maybe, just maybe, this was a mistake.

"As you wish, Raphael," he said with a smirk. He lunged into me, his hips bucking against mine, and I could feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter within me. Each time he hammered inside me, it sent waves through. It was unbearable. "Slow… Too much," I said.

"Does it hurt?" he asked with a flat voice.

"No," I gasped. "But I’m about to cum."

"Then you should," he said with a playful tone. Once again, he forcefully gripped my hips and continued to pound inside me. While lost in my own pleasure, I couldn't help but observe his beautifully sculpted face. There was a visible tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched, a deep furrow etched between his brows.

As my moans grew louder, he didn't respond with words, only with increasingly intense thrusts. When I finally climaxed for the third time, a shuddering wave of release, he was clearly close to his own edge. His ragged breath filled the air. There was a slight tremble in his legs. Then he finally finished, too.

I could feel him pulsing inside. He placed his forehead on my chest, trying to control his breathing. He was silent and still for a moment. When we both were done, our breathing and hearts reached their original rhythm, Levi slowly and carefully slid himself out. Another cry escaped from me.

He glanced around the room at first, then left the bed for bringing wet tissues. One must admit, it was foolish of me to think we might have intimate pillow talk. Still, I was grateful that he was doing the aftercare.

All in good time, Raphael. Be patient. Look at this man’s restraint.

"Do you wish to take a shower?" he asked, his voice neutral, his head gesturing towards the bathroom. There was no hint of invitation, no suggestion of sharing the space. It was a purely practical question, a continuation of the post-coital cleanup.

How far can this man go? I couldn’t fathom. He asked the same question when we had sex for the first time. Is this another duty to fulfill? Another box to tick?

If I took a shower here, he would surely wash me, not as a lover, gently taking care of his partner, but like a surgeon, clinically washing away bodily fluids. The thought of that would make me even angrier. "No, I will shower in my room."

He nodded in acknowledgment. "As you wish."