Levi softly rose from his chair and extended his arm for me to clasp. I knew what I wanted; I knew that he wasn’t feeling what I felt. But, even though he was unfeeling, his gentle demeanor, him extending his arm, was making this blurry. He had a way of making you feel it; if he extended you his hand, you take it. Not because he commands you, but because you absolutely know how exhilarating it is to stand side by side with him.

My fingers closed around his, the contact cool and firm. A silent agreement. I rose, my legs feeling strangely heavy, and allowed him to guide me. It was a surrender, not to his power, but to the undeniable pull he exerted. A surrender to my own desires, however misguided they might be.

Going to the hotel’s lobby, picking a room, going to the elevator – it was all a blur. Partly, because of how awkward it felt. His hand on my arm wasn’t possessive; it was the contact of two skins touching each other, devoid of warmth, or affection.

We finally entered the room he picked. There was no need to mention the view of the flickering lights of the city beneath our feet. My heart was thumping in my chest, a frantic drumbeat against the silence.

He moved with an unsettling efficiency. Shedding his jacket with a single, fluid motion, he turned his attention to me. His deep blue eyes, felt like instruments, measuring, cataloging. There was no heat, no urgency, only a clinical precision that sent a shiver down my spine.

One might think it was infuriating and dehumanizing. It was, mostly. But, his attention was a strange and potent drug, a focused intensity that felt… validating. He wasn’t here to judge, but to observe, to acknowledge my existence with a silent, unwavering focus. Even if it was scary, our silent agreement to each other’s presence was a language that didn’t need articulation.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before shifting to the city lights visible through the window. It was an invitation, or perhaps a dismissal. I wasn't sure which.

The silence stretched, thick and heavy. I felt a strange mix of anticipation and dread, a morbid curiosity battling with a desperate urge to flee. My heart pounded in my chest, a frantic rhythm against the stillness of the room.

He finally spoke, “Pulla, are you having second thoughts?”

Second thoughts? It wasn't second thoughts. It was a maelstrom of conflicting desires, a battle between the allure of the forbidden and the self-preservation screaming within me.

“My head is a mess right now,” I admitted while watching his eyes carefully observing the state I was in. A very faint smirk was placed on his lips; he enjoyed the honesty.

“Pulla, let your husband take care of you. He'll make you forget everything else.”

The memories of days started flashing in my mind. He always closed my eyes, and shamefully admitting it, it did help me forget about everything else. In those moments, there were only sounds of our ragged breaths, our touches, the raw pleasure. His relentless, borderline merciless pace made sure you focused on nothing but the edge you were about to reach.

There was no denying it, I craved his touch. But while we were sitting on the bed, fully clothed, how do you take the first step? The intentions were clear, the location was clear. But how do I find the courage and delete the last piece of my pride for the pleasure?

A sigh escaped my lips, a sound of resignation and longing. Pride be damned. I reached out, my hand finding his. My fingers laced with his, a silent surrender to the need that consumed me.

His hand, cool and steady, tightened around mine. It wasn't a possessive grasp, but a firm acknowledgment, a silent acceptance of my advance. His gaze, when it met mine, was still unreadable, but there was a shift, a subtle change.

“My Pulla also has a flair for the romantic, it seems,” he purred while gently rubbing my hand with his thumb.

I scoffed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Please, we’re in a hotel room. There is nothing romantic about this.”

Levi’s lips quirked into a smile. “Ah, Pulla. Always so eager to cut to the chase.” His thumb stilled on my hand, the sudden lack of movement a subtle shift in the atmosphere. He was gently encouraging me to take this first step. I leaned towards him, trying to unbutton his shirt. After I unbuttoned a few of them, I remembered something else. I have never seen him fully naked. He always wore a shirt or pajamas.

My fingers paused on the cool fabric, a sudden hesitation halting my advance. It was a strange realization, a flicker of uncertainty in the heat of the moment. I glanced up at him, my eyes searching his for any indication of… what?

I kept unbuttoning, and when I was finally about to take it off from him, I saw it in his eyes. A line you should never cross. It was for just a second, but the silent ‘don’t you dare’ was there.

My hand fell away from his shirt as if burned. It wasn't just a look; it was a warning. It was as clear as day: if you do this, there will be consequences.

He saw my hesitation to continue. So, instead of making me take initiative, he placed his hand on my inner thigh, gently caressing it. His cold touch, the first contact after everything that happened, sent a jolt all over my body.

His thumb continued its slow, deliberate circles, each movement sending shivers down my spine. He watched my reaction with an almost clinical interest, his eyes never leaving mine. It was as if he were studying the precise moment my resistance would finally break.

His other hand gently pushed my shoulder down to make me lay on my back on the bed. He crawled over to me. I could feel his shadow looming over. Just like our first breakfast. His tall and slender figure was blocking the light on the ceiling.

With his long fingers, he swiftly took my shirt off. His gaze followed the movement of the fabric, his eyes lingering for a moment on my bare chest before returning to mine. He removed his hand from my thigh and placed them on my chest. The initial coldness made my back arch.

His palms pressed down, the coolness slowly giving way to a more insistent pressure. His thumbs grazed my nipples, a deliberate, teasing touch that sent a shiver through me despite the initial shock. His eyes remained locked on mine, as if gauging the precise impact of his every move.

After some deliberate rubbing of my nipples, he gripped my waist, his hands firm and sure, and lifted me slightly. The sudden shift in position took my breath away. He held me there for a fleeting moment, suspended between the bed and his will, before gently maneuvering me so he could unfasten my trousers.

I was completely naked, while I could only see his bare chest. He remained hovering above me, his hands now resting lightly on my hips, his touch sending a fresh wave of shivers through my exposed body. His eyes, dark and unreadable, traced the length of me, a silent exploration that felt both invasive and undeniably arousing.

“It surprises me to see it, every time. How can you be so aroused when clearly so terrified, Pulla?”

His words, though spoken softly, felt like a cold splash of water. Terrified wasn't the right word. Anxious? Vulnerable? Yes. But the arousal was undeniable, a shameful response to his touch, his presence.

“Just, shut up.” I blurted out. Levi paused. There was no anger in his expression, no surprise even. Perhaps he had anticipated such a reaction. After a beat, a very faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

He placed his fingers on my dick. It was cold at first, sending another jolt, then he slowly wrapped his fingers around, completely entrapping it. He started moving his hands up and down, while carefully observing my face. I did enjoy his touch, and his attention to my pleasure, but it felt one-sided, even though he was doing everything to make me feel good. I wanted to see a reaction from him, too. I wanted to see his flushed face, and shameful admittance of the arousal.

I raised myself up on my elbows to see his boner. It was subtle, meaning he wasn’t fully there in the moment, but undeniably he was aroused too. A brief triumph and bravery washed over me. I grabbed the collar of his shirt. “Take your pants off,” I ordered with a smirk.

Levi's hand stilled on my shaft. His unreadable gaze flickered down to my hand gripping his collar, then back to my eyes. The faint smile that had been playing on his lips vanished. But, he composed himself afterwards and nodded. Then he took his pants off, leaving only his underwear and shirt.

The sight of him, still partially clothed but now mirroring my state of undress in a way, sent another wave of something complex through me. It wasn't just triumph anymore; there was a nervous anticipation, a sense of the stakes having been raised. He still held the physical advantage in terms of being more covered, but the act of obeying my command, however subtly, felt like a significant shift.

“Pulla, always with surprises and amusing me. I am truly curious to see you turn back to being Vexia.”

Clearly, there was a difference between chasing a rabbit and a fox. The lion didn’t want to chase a scared, timid, breakable rabbit; the lion wanted a quick-witted fox.

A new glint sparked in my eyes. The nervous tremor had subsided, replaced by a cool resolve. My grip on his collar tightened, no longer hesitant, but firm and deliberate.

“Then you shall have it, Levi,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, husky purr. My other hand, freed from its earlier uncertainty, reached out and traced the hard line of his jaw, my thumb lingering on the corner of his lips, mirroring the faint smile that sometimes played there. I placed my lips on his.

This lion had such soft, tasty lips.

The kiss started gently, a soft exploration, a clear departure from the earlier hesitant touches. But the underlying assertiveness was there, a subtle claiming. I deepened the kiss slightly, nipping gently at his lower lip, a playful challenge. His lips, initially passive, responded in kind, a slow burn igniting between us.

“Levi, did you know, your lips are so fucking soft…”

He chuckled lightly against my mouth, throwing me off balance again.

"What's so funny?" I asked, a hint of a smile playing on my own lips despite the momentary disruption of my assertive moment.

“You, Pulla,” he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of my lower lip. Damn you, lion.

“Credit where it’s due,” I said, my voice dropping lower. “They’re so soft, it makes me want to bite them.”

Levi's thumb stilled on my lip, his eyes darkening further, the amusement now tinged with a different kind of intensity. A low murmur rumbled in his chest, a sound that vibrated against my own lips. “Is there anything stopping you from biting my lips?”

Thinking back, he never actually said no to anything. It was mostly my own spiral of fear and self-deprecating nature that stopped myself. He had set boundaries, yes, but within those, there seemed to be a space for exploration, a willingness to indulge my whims.

The kiss this time was much more eager, primal. I let go of his collar, and he crawled over me once again; it was a breathless kiss. His kiss became less controlled, more demanding, mirroring my own eagerness. It was actually more about seeing his unfiltered reactions. His breath was ragged like mine too, and while he was on top of me, now I could feel his erection gently rubbing against mine in its glory.

A triumphant heat flooded my chest. This was it – the genuine, unfiltered reaction I had been craving.

I wanted his desire so much more. He always made sure I finish first, ever the dutiful. But no, not this time.

I grabbed his shoulders, “Levi, you lay down. Tonight, I will teach you how to suck a dick.”

He didn't immediately obey, his gaze locked on mine, as if assessing the sincerity and the audacity of my words. There was a tension in his jaw, a subtle clench that betrayed a flicker of internal conflict. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he lay down beside me.

His toned chest was begging for attention, and I obliged, caressing and rubbing my hands across his cold skin. I lightly flicked his nipples, and a sharp flinch ran through him, a rare display of involuntary reaction that sent a thrill through me. Wait, did he have sensitive… nipples?

I traced the areola with a delicate touch, watching for any further reaction. His breath hitched again, and his eyes, though still fixed on mine, seemed to darken even further. A faint tremor ran through his chest muscles. Oh, this was definitely something to explore.

My fingers continued their exploration, lightly stroking and circling his nipples. I watched his face closely, noticing the subtle changes – the slight furrow of his brow, the almost imperceptible clench of his jaw. His breathing remained somewhat controlled, but there was a tension that hadn't been there before.

“You… Who knew? Your nipples are so sensitive!” A chuckle escaped my lips.

Levi's eyes narrowed slightly, the earlier darkness now tinged with something akin to… annoyance? But it was fleeting, quickly replaced by a familiar unreadable quality. "A physiological response, Pulla," he murmured, his voice still low. "Hardly a revelation."

“Yeah, yeah.” I flicked my hand dismissively. “What was it you said, response stimuli, wasn’t it?”

A thoughtful pause crossed Levi's features, his gaze still fixed on mine. He was annoyed. Levi was annoyed because I pointed out his nipples.

And it was so funny and comical I couldn’t hold my laugh. A genuine, unrestrained chuckle bubbled up from my chest, the absurdity of the situation – the usually stoic Levi being bothered by something so… normal, was too much.

A muscle twitched in his jaw. "I fail to see the source of your amusement, Pulla," he stated, his voice now carrying a distinct edge.

“Ah, cut it out with the act!” I leaned down to lick his nipples, letting my tongue flick playfully across one sensitive peak, then the other. I could feel the immediate tension in his body, the tremor that ran through his chest. A low hum of amusement rumbled in my own throat. This was far more entertaining than any detached observation. I might even try a little nibble next, just to see if I could elicit another one of those delightful flinches. The thought brought a wicked grin to my face.

Levi had sensitive nipples… I couldn't believe what I uncovered. He was trying so hard to maintain his composure, but the subtle tension in his jaw and the rapid rise and fall of his chest betrayed him.

“Levi, accept my apologies. Had I known, I would have sucked your chest ages ago. Accept apologies from your humble husband.”

Levi’s gaze held mine, a subtle challenge in their depths. “And what penance do you propose for this oversight, husband?”

Penance. The word got stuck on my head, reminding me that we were in a contract. To be honest, it would have bothered me a while ago… But now… now, with Levi lying beneath me, his eyes holding a spark of genuine desire, the contract felt distant, almost irrelevant. What mattered was the heat between us, the playful challenge in his gaze, and the undeniable connection we were forging in this moment.

“Okay, I told you that I will teach you, so I will.”

I lifted myself up on my knees so I could go down on him. My fingers fumbled for a moment with the waistband of his underwear before I finally scurried them away, watching with a thrill as his erection sprang free, thick and already straining.

What a sight! I knew that he had an impressive size, but I never saw it too clearly before. I gently wrapped my fingers around it at first, the heat radiating from his skin surprising me slightly. Then, emboldened, I lightly licked his skin, the smooth texture sparking a new wave of desire within me.

"Relax, Levi," I murmured, my thumb gently stroking the underside of his shaft. This time, he wasn’t the one who held all the knowledge, for once. A smug satisfaction warmed me from the inside out. I lowered my head again, my intention clear: to enlighten him. "Observe closely, Levi," I whispered against his skin, taking more of him into my mouth. "This is how it's done. Note the technique."

This time, my touch was more confident. I took more of him into my mouth, my lips closing around his shaft. I moved slowly at first, wanting to savor his reaction, to see if I could finally crack that stoic facade. My hands continued to stroke the base. "You can breathe, you know," I chuckled softly, noticing his rigid posture.

I watched him closely, my eyes flicking between his face and the way his body tensed beneath me. His hands were clenched white-knuckled on the sheets, and his jaw was tight. A smug sense of satisfaction bloomed in my chest. Even the great Levi couldn't remain completely unaffected.

I varied my rhythm, sometimes slow and deep, sometimes teasing the sensitive head with the tip of my tongue. Each hitch of his breath, each barely perceptible flinch, was a small victory. He was so used to being the one in charge, the one orchestrating everything. It was… intoxicating to be the one eliciting this raw, unfiltered response from him.

Even a tiny escaped breath, a low moan was grandiose with him.

In those small, involuntary sounds, I could finally understand his intense pull, that magnetic force that always drew me back, no matter how much I tried to resist.

All of that watching was also pushing me beyond the edge too, I needed something to continue. The feel of him in my mouth, the subtle flexing of his muscles, the ragged edge to his breath – it was all igniting a fire within me. But his impressive length and what felt like a relentless stamina were starting to make my own breath catch. His breathing was ragged but damn, not a single bead of sweat was running.

“Pulla, what happened? Tired?”

I pulled back a little further, trying to catch my breath and failing to completely hide the slight strain in my smile. “Tired?” I scoffed, though the airiness of my voice probably gave me away.

He lifted himself to grab my jaw, his fingers firm but surprisingly gentle against my skin. “Lying… My, my Pulla.” A soft chuckle rumbled in his chest.

My cheeks flushed a little hotter. Caught red-handed, or rather, red-faced and breathless. I avoided his direct gaze for a moment, focusing on the way his thumb was gently stroking my jawline. “What did we say about lying?”

What was he talking about?.. Oh, yeah. His weird reasoning for manipulations. “Lying… shows caring.”

He chuckled again. “So, I bid you honesty, my Pulla. Now, come here and take a break, while your husband takes care of you.”

I obediently shifted my position to lie on my back. Why protest? A soft smile played on my lips as Levi shifted above me, his gaze intent. I watched as his hand slowly reached down, a familiar anticipation building within me. Yes, a break sounded absolutely perfect, especially if it involved his long, slender fingers.

Before he reached down, however, he glanced around the bedside table, his eyes scanning for a drawer. A moment later, he located it and smoothly pulled it open, retrieving a tube of lube and a foil packet.

A small smirk tugged at my lips. Lube, check. Condom, check. Always prepared. Man, he really had his obsession with protected sex.

He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers. With a slow, deliberate motion, his lubricated fingers parted my thighs, and a shiver of anticipation ran through me. He was methodical, precise, even in this act of intimacy. I watched him, a familiar mix of desire and trust settling within me. Yes, he was pragmatic, but his pragmatism always led to a thorough and ultimately satisfying experience. His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration, a subtle indication of the intensity of his focus. In that moment, all of his formidable intellect and unwavering attention were directed solely at me.

His fingers, began their exploration with a measured grace. He started with gentle strokes along my inner thighs, the cool slickness of the lube surprising me. His touch was feather-light at first, teasing the edges of my desire, building anticipation with each slow glide.

The tip of his middle finger finally, finally touched my hole, lightly teasing. A sharp intake of breath escaped my lips, and my hips instinctively tilted upward, a silent plea for more. Then, with excruciating slowness, he pressed just the very tip inside, stretching me ever so slightly. The sensation was a delicious friction, a burning anticipation that made my muscles clench. He held that position for a long, drawn-out moment, letting me adjust to the initial contact, before retreating just a hair, only to press forward again with the same deliberate, tantalizing pace.

After what felt like an eternity of this agonizingly slow teasing, he finally deepened the penetration, pushing his finger in a little further, stretching me more fully. He paused again, allowing my muscles to adjust to the increased pressure, before repeating the slow in-and-out rhythm.

"Oh, God, Levi, just move, stop with the teasing," I gasped, my voice rough with need. The agonizing control was driving me wild.

“Ah, Pulla… Rushing again?”

I groaned, my head thrashing slightly against the pillows. "Yes, Levi, rushing!" I bit out, the teasing tone only intensifying my frustration. My hips bucked against his fingers, a clear indication that my patience was wearing thin. "Just… please."

A playful smirk was placed on his lips. “Pulla, look at you. Dripping, begging…” He placed his other hand on my dick, his fingers lightly circling the head. “Look at this… So eager, so honest…”

The sight of his knowing smirk, coupled with the tantalizing touch of his other hand now ghosting over my already aching cock, sent a fresh wave of heat through me. Begging wasn't exactly in my usual repertoire, but damn it, he was so good. “Yeah, eager, just keep going.”

The ghosting touch on my cock became firmer, his fingers now stroking along its length while his other hand continued its insistent rhythm inside me. The change was immediate and electrifying.

“Pulla, are you close, your nipples are getting pinker.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Damn him, so much. He was right, though. My breath was coming in short, sharp gasps, and a tight knot of pleasure was coiling low in my belly. While both of his hands were busy, he lowered his head to my chest. I braced myself, expecting some slow, deliberate torment. He let his warm breath tickle my skin at first, sending shivers down my spine. But Levi knew about grudges. Without any further preamble, without a single teasing lick, he sank his teeth into my already sensitive nipple, not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to send a jolt of pure, sharp sensation through me.

A strangled cry escaped my lips, my back arching off the bed.

Levi seemed to sense the shift, the imminent release. His fingers inside me moved with a renewed urgency, the rhythm becoming faster, deeper, more insistent. The hand stroking my cock tightened its grip, the friction increasing.

I could feel the tremors starting deep within, a frantic pulsing that spread through my limbs. My breath hitched, ragged and uneven. And then, it hit me – a wave of pure, overwhelming sensation that washed over me, stealing my breath and clenching every muscle in my body. I cried out, a raw, guttural sound that echoed in the quiet room as my climax ripped through me. Levi held me firmly, his hands unwavering as the waves of pleasure crashed over me, until the last shudder finally subsided, leaving me breathless and weak.

While I was trying to gather myself, I saw Levi intently looking at his chest and fingers, my cum glistening over them. There was a moment of thought passing in his eyes and he lifted his fingers to his lips. Oh no, he is gonna taste it.

I wasn’t sure if I was ready to watch him do something like that so I shut my eyes close.

“Pulla, what’s with the embarrassment now? Kindly, watch.” Levi’s voice, though calm, held a firm edge that brooked no argument.

With a hesitant breath, I slowly opened my eyes. He was already doing it. His dark gaze was fixed on mine as he deliberately licked his entire finger clean. The directness sent a fresh wave of heat through my still-sensitive body despite my earlier unease. My throat felt tight, my heart hammering against my ribs. It was a blatant display that I couldn't look away from.

"You didn't have to do that," I finally whispered, my voice raw.

Levi's eyes held a knowing glint as he leaned closer. “No, Pulla,” he murmured, his thumb gently stroking my cheekbone. “I don’t have to do anything.” Then, he cupped my face and began to kiss me softly. I tried to block in my mind what he actually meant by those words. I really didn’t want to ruin this moment of tenderness by overthinking. The soft pressure of his lips against mine was surprisingly soothing. A soft, gentle, tender Levi was as captivating, in its own way, as a cold and calculated Levi. Maybe even more so, because it felt… precious, a rare glimpse behind the walls. I closed my eyes, melting into the kiss.

And just like that, a truly warm and sensual kiss had its way of making you horny. As I lay beneath him, Levi’s weight a comforting presence hovering above me, all I could think was spreading my legs open, right now.

“Levi, please…” The soft brush of his lips against mine, the warmth of his breath ghosting over my skin, was a delicious form of torture. He leaned against my ear, gently nibbling on it, “Please what, Pulla?”

A shiver ran down my spine at the gentle teeth on my earlobe. "Please… stop being so damn gentle," I managed, my voice a little breathless. The tenderness had been wonderful, a surprising and welcome interlude, but now it was fueling a different kind of hunger. "Please… just… fuck me, Levi."

As I was lost in the heat of the moment, something inside me snapped. I wasn’t gonna give Levi whatever he wanted that readily, no way. He was so out of it when I used dirty talk.

“That little nibble on my ear wasn't enough, was it? You want more. You want to feel me wrapped tight around you, my nails digging into your back as you pound into me. You want to hear me scream your name, don't you?”

I watched Levi's reaction closely, a small, triumphant smirk playing on my lips.

“Such vulgar language, Pulla.” Levi’s voice was a low rumble, a hint of a smile playing on his own lips despite the mock disapproval in his words.

“Shut it, I know you enjoy this.” I leaned closer, my breath ghosting over his mouth. My fingers trailed down his chest, lingering just above his hardening nipple. “Vulgar? How about I tell you exactly how wet I'm getting just thinking about your cock throbbing inside me? How about I describe the way my hole is aching for your thick cock? Don't act like you haven't imagined me on my knees, begging you to fuck me raw.”

Okay, I might have gone too far, I saw Levi brows knitted furiously, his mouth a tiny agape. “How… How can you say those things?” Levi’s voice was a low, almost bewildered whisper. A moment passed, and then a familiar glint returned to his eyes. “And here I thought I was the one known for being… direct, Pulla. Are you attempting to shock me?” A small, challenging smile touched his lips.

Seeing him speechless… It was divine. There was no way I would leave him be now, I purred, leaning closer, "You prefer I use more delicate phrasing while I describe exactly how much I want your cock inside me?"

“It really does shock me to think you can use your… colorful language without even flinching.” Levi’s voice still held a note of disbelief, though the amusement in his eyes hadn't completely faded.

Oh, God. I want to keep teasing him.

“No, the shocking thing is you getting flustered by some words; like cock, dick, pussy?”

Levi wouldn’t let me have my fun forever, so, maybe because of disgust or just to show some of his control, he placed his hand over my mouth, his fingers gently but firmly covering my lips. My eyes widened in surprise, a playful glint quickly returning. So, he wanted to play that game? I licked the palm of his hand through his fingers, my gaze locked on his eyes. Dude, can’t stand dirty talk. What the hell?

“Pulla, your amusement is noted. However, my restraint is not infinite. You are treading a path that could lead to outcomes you might find less enjoyable. Consider this your only explicit warning.”

Is he threatening again, like he did with the sugar thing?

“My concern, Pulla, is not with the specific terminology you choose to employ. It is with the deliberate intent behind it. The need to provoke, to push boundaries for the sake of… what, exactly? To see how far you can go? Such games can have unintended consequences.” Levi’s eyes narrowed slightly, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur that sent a shiver down my spine, a far cry from the soft tones of moments before. “You are in my space, Pulla. In my care. Do not mistake that for a license to test my limits. You will find them far more rigid than you anticipate. And the repercussions will be tailored to ensure you understand them fully.” His gaze intensified, and for the first time, I saw a flash of something truly cold in his dark eyes.

If this had happened a week ago, I would have started pissing myself. Really, I would have. But no, not again. He had a thirst for subtle dominance and power, but he enjoyed playing and chasing that said power even more. In this moment, although it was scary and possibly idiotic of me to even think about it, Levi was actually pushing me. In that hotel room, not to anybody else, but me.

Pinned beneath him, I met his cold gaze with a steadier one of my own. The fear was still there, a knot in my stomach, but it was tempered by a strange sort of understanding. He wasn't going to hurt me, not really. This was him flexing of his authority. A smirk touched my lips.

There was nobody in this country, maybe in this world as terrifying as Levi Blake. And yet… here I was, smirking back at him, a dangerous thrill coursing through me. This hotel room felt less like a private stage for our twisted little drama. No wonder why everyone else felt so pale and boring compared to him.

This intensity, this underlying danger… it was a drug.

Did I evolve into some type of a masochist or adrenaline junkie? A week ago, the idea of being pinned down and threatened would have sent me into a panic attack. Now… now there was a thrill mixed with the fear, a perverse curiosity about what Levi would do next.

“Pulla, you are being rude again. I am right in front of you, but your mind keeps wandering. You have been awfully cruel to me.”

His audacity; he pinned me down, threatened me, and I was the one being rude? No way. I reached up, my fingers closing around his hand that had been silencing me. His skin was cold, his grip surprisingly gentle still, even after his veiled threats.

“Levi, stop playing and fuck me.”

His dark eyes, flickered with surprise, then softened into a slow, knowing smile that sent a shiver down my spine, a different kind of shiver this time. He didn't immediately release me but his thumb now was tracing lazy circles against my skin.

"Such a… direct approach, Pulla," he murmured, his voice losing its earlier hard edge, replaced by a low, husky warmth that resonated deep within me. “But your eagerness is duly noted.”

While I was expecting us to keep going in a missionary position, I guess my teasing struck a nerve with him. He took a few steps back and grabbed my legs tightly. One moment I was looking up at him, a fragile truce brokered by raw desire, the next I was being flipped over with a swift efficiency that stole my breath.

My face was buried in the soft hotel pillow, the scent of clean linen doing little to calm the sudden rush of adrenaline. My butt was presented to him, high and exposed. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat. I could hear the fabric rustling and plastic tearing; he was putting on a condom.

Ever the dutiful, again. While I was making fun of him in my head, I felt the cold lube on my hole. Yeah, it is happening.

"Squeeze your abs for me, Pulla." His voice, low and commanding, vibrated through the air, sending another shiver down my spine. Even with the annoyance I'd sensed earlier, there was that familiar thread of care, the ingrained need to ensure I wasn't hurt. What a contradiction he was. A terrifying, controlling… husband. The thought brought a strange mix of amusement and something deeper, something akin to affection.

I tightened my core as he'd instructed, bracing myself. He didn't immediately thrust forward. Instead, the pressure of his tip against my hole remained, a deliberate tease that sent shivers of anticipation racing through me. He rubbed against me, a slow, frustrating friction that made my hips want to buck.

A frustrated groan escaped past my lips into the pillow. He was enjoying this. Just the tip, pressing and retreating, was driving me crazy.

"You are a bastard, Levi."

“I wish I was, Pulla.” His voice, close to my ear, was a low, husky murmur.

Shit, I touched a very obvious family trauma. Luckily, Levi didn’t dwell on my careless words. And then, finally, the teasing stopped. With a slow, deliberate pressure, he pushed forward, filling me completely. A sharp intake of breath escaped my lips, a gasp that was half surprise, half relief. He was deep, stretching me in a way that was both intense and incredibly satisfying. He paused for a long moment, letting me adjust to his size, the silence in the room broken only by our ragged breathing.

I bit down on the pillow, trying to contain the gasp that escaped my lips.

The stillness that followed was almost as potent as the entry itself. I could feel his breath warm against my neck, the steady rhythm a counterpoint to the frantic hammering of my own heart.

“Pulla, you are fully prepared, yes?” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against my back.

Before I could even fully register the question, the consideration vanished. The pressure transformed into a sudden, forceful thrust that drove him deeper than before, right to the hilt. A sharp gasp escaped me, muffled by the pillow. There was no gentle build-up, no further teasing.

My hands clenched the pillow, my knuckles white as I tried to absorb the sudden intensity. The air rushed from my lungs, and for a moment, all I could feel was the stretching, the almost painful fullness. My head thrashed against the pillow, the muffled sounds of my strained breaths the only response I could manage. My hips lifted involuntarily off the bed, trying to escape the relentless onslaught, but he held me firmly in place, his hands gripping my thighs with bruising strength.

A strangled sound clawed its way up my throat, a desperate whimper against the pillow. My stomach clenched, a wave of nausea rising with the sharp, almost tearing sensation. For a terrifying moment, I genuinely believed I was going to be sick, the violent rhythm of his movements threatening to expel everything within me.

As I thought he was going to keep punishing me for underestimating him, he grabbed my chest and lifted me. Securely holding me on my knees, and giving me a moment to breathe.

My lungs burned, and I gasped, trying to suck in air. My head swam, the lingering pain a dull throb now.

"Pulla," his voice, though still low, had lost some of its harshness. "Take deep breaths for me."

“Slow… down…” The words were a ragged plea, escaping past the lump in my throat. Tears pricked at my eyes, a mix of pain and the raw vulnerability of the position he held me in.

"Pulla, hold the headboard, firmly."

My vision was still a little blurry, and my arms felt weak, but I reached out, my hands gripping the cool metal of the headboard. Both of us were on our knees, his chest was on my back and I was holding the headboard for balance. I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my spine, a rhythm that was far more controlled than the frantic pounding of my own.

“Let me ask once again, are you prepared, Pulla?” His voice, a low murmur against my ear, sent a fresh wave of shivers down my spine. Prepared? After that relentless pain?

“Try me.” My hands tightened on the cool metal of the headboard. My body still throbbed but I was still prideful enough to not let him win.

And then he moved. Not with the brutal force of before, but with a deliberate, controlled slide that made me gasp despite myself. He withdrew almost completely, the sudden absence creating a hollow ache that was immediately replaced as he thrust back in, this time aiming higher, pressing against a different point, a knot of sensitivity I hadn't even realized was so exquisitely tender.

He found the precise spot that made my hips want to buck, and he lingered there, grinding slowly, his chest pressed firmly against my back, his arms now wrapping around my waist, his hands splaying across my stomach, pulling me closer.

My head fell forward, my forehead resting against the cool metal of the headboard as involuntary moans escaped my lips. My grip tightened, my knuckles white, no longer from pain, but from the sheer intensity of the pleasure he was so expertly extracting.

He continued his teasing tempo, withdrawing just enough to heighten the anticipation before pressing back in. My hips began to rock , a desperate attempt to deepen the connection, to chase the exquisite friction that was driving me closer to the edge.

The fucking lion, he was still deliberately teasing me to beg for his cock.

A frustrated groan escaped my lips, a sound that was part pleasure, part pure exasperation. My hands clenched the headboard even tighter, my muscles trembling with the effort of holding back, of not giving him the satisfaction of a full-throated plea. The damn lion was toying with his prey, enjoying the dance, the power he held over my escalating desire. And the infuriating thing was, it was working. Every calculated movement was driving me closer to the edge, making the need to have him deep inside me, pounding without restraint, almost unbearable.

If he touched my dick, for a second, I would cum all over the place. Shit, is that why he calls me ‘rabbit’? Of course it is. Skittish, easily aroused, and apparently, one touch away from exploding. A blush heated my cheeks despite the cool metal of the headboard against my forehead. The arrogant prick.

“Oh, are you almost there, Pulla?” he softly murmured against my ear.

Fucking prick. Arrogant bastard.

He nuzzled on my shoulder and dropped his gaze to my throbbing, twitching dick. “Do you need external stimulation, too? Such a demanding Pulla you are.”

My jaw clenched, and I fought back the urge to bite my lip. Demanding? He was the one in control. And now he was trying to make it seem like my failing that I hadn't already come apart?

"Shut up, Levi," I bit out, the words rough and strained.

“Do not bite your lip like that,” he said and placed his fingers in my mouth, pushing my lower jaw, prying my mouth open. Do I just bite his fingers? Like a full bite? I mean, he deserved it, the arrogant, manipulative bastard. His surprised yelping would be music to my ears. But, in retaliation, he could fully snap my spine in half, right this moment with his pace.

The pressure of his fingers remained, forcing my mouth slightly open. My teeth grazed his skin, a fleeting, almost accidental touch. The decision hung heavy in the air: a moment of petty satisfaction versus potentially devastating retaliation.

He would never let my hesitation hang around in the air. Never. He saw every little thought in my head. So, instead of his deliberate teasing, this time merciless, cruel thrusting began.

Each stroke was deep and punishing, slamming into me with a force that left me gasping against his fingers still clamped around my jaw. This was raw power, an assertion of dominance that brooked no argument. The pain, which had been a dull throb, sharpened into a searing burn as he pounded into me, his movements relentless and unforgiving.

He had called my bluff, and the price was this brutal.

His voice, though still low, held a sharp edge of command, cutting through my ragged breaths and the haze of pain. "Pulla, I said take deep breaths for me, hm? Do I force it out for you too?"

“Fuck. You. Be a little gentle, you asshole.”

The relentless pounding didn't cease, but there was a fraction of a second, a hair's breadth of change in his rhythm, that might have been… consideration? It wasn’t, I was a fool for thinking that. It was him testing my limits.

“As you wish, Raphael.” he chuckled slightly, noted this data on his head.

The relentless force eased, replaced by a deliberate, knowing pressure that focused precisely on that sensitive knot deep within me.

The change was so sudden, so expertly executed, that it stole my breath. It was no longer about testing my limits through discomfort, but about pushing me towards pleasure, a different kind of dominance altogether.

His hands, still gripping my waist, tightened slightly as he found the exact angle, the precise depth that sent waves of heat radiating through my core.

“Now, Pulla. Hold the headboard tight. Really, tight.” A command came out of his lips.

Damn, what’s he scheming again? My fingers tightened their grip on the cool metal. He let go of my chest, securely holding me, and instead both of his grabbed under my knees to fully lift me off the bed. I was in the air, fully exposed. My legs dangled, and the feeling of being so exposed, so completely at his mercy.

Levi wasn’t a complete shredded, buff gym rat. And I wasn’t also a really light man either. But his grip was so strong, I could feel his fingers tearing into my flesh.

"Pulla," his voice was low and commanding, "take one of your hands from the headboard, and place it onto your stomach."

My breath hitched. Letting go of the headboard, my only point of stability in this precarious position, felt instinctively wrong. My muscles tensed, resisting the urge to obey. But the sharp dig of his fingers under my knees, the unwavering authority in his voice, left little room for hesitation.

I placed my hand onto my stomach, obeying him. His voice dropped to a husky whisper, laced with a knowing intimacy that sent shivers down my spine. "Tell me, Pulla? Can you feel it?"

I could feel the edges of his cock on my stomach.

"Now, Pulla," his voice was a low command "press there, and never lift your hand."

My fingers trembled slightly as I pressed against my stomach, the sensation of his length beneath my palm almost surreal. When he started moving, this time the feeling was so different. Because I was suspended, with no solid surface beneath me, the force of his thrust wasn't just internal; it was a full-body experience.

Every time he moved, I could feel the edges of his cock under my palm. Every single time.

The subtle adjustment of my body, the slight tilt that brought his tip into perfect alignment, was a masterstroke. The next few thrusts were laser-focused, each one hitting that precise point with devastating accuracy. The pleasure built with an unbearable intensity, coiling tighter and tighter until a strangled cry tore from my throat, the raw sound echoing in the room as I shattered.

Every muscle in my body spasmed. Every nerve ending screamed with a glorious, electric fire. My orgasm ripped through me, a tidal wave of sensation that left me momentarily blind and breathless. My release painted the scene – cum trails across the crisp white sheets, a sheen on the plush pillow beneath, droplets clinging to the cool metal of the headboard.

It was a loud cry.

Levi remained perfectly still within me for a long, drawn-out moment, allowing the last tremors to subside.

"Do you wish to see it?" His voice, a low murmur near my ear, held a playful note that sent a fresh wave of unease washing over me.

"See what—what are you talking about?" I stammered, my mind still clouded by the recent orgasm.

That familiar, infuriatingly charming smirk played on his lips. I knew that smirk. It was his scheming the downfall of nobility smirk. He didn't release me. Instead, still fully inside, he lifted us both from the bed. Each step he took towards the bathroom sent a jolt of sensation through me, his movements rubbing against my still-sensitized flesh, triggering another, smaller wave of pleasure that quickly escalated. By the time we reached the bathroom doorway, a second, less explosive but equally overwhelming orgasm ripped through me, accompanied by another involuntary cry.

He stopped before the large mirror that adorned the bathroom wall.

Oh shit.

There I was, fully naked, fully exposed, watching myself, his dick inside, his hands still firmly beneath my knees.

I was so embarrassed, so ashamed at that moment. I placed my hands on my face, trying to hide my shame.

"No, no Pulla." His voice, surprisingly gentle now, reached me even through my hands. He shifted his grip slightly, a subtle adjustment that didn't release me but somehow felt less forceful. "See it, look at it." His tone was insistent. "Look at how beautiful and charming you are."

Is this a compliment, flattery, or mocking? I didn’t know. But, I wasn’t going to lift my hand and peek at it. "Levi, stop," I pleaded, my voice tight, my hands still firmly pressed against my face. "It's embarrassing."

"Embarrassed by beauty, Pulla?” His breath ghosted against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with being utterly flustered. Beauty? Me? Right now, sweaty and flushed, with his cock still buried inside me and us both stark naked in front of a mirror? Don't fall for it, Raphael. He knows I'm embarrassed. He's probably getting off on it.

His tone shifted, a subtle accusation lacing his words. "Pulla, you are being cruel to me. Your mind wanders once again."

The manipulative bastard, trying to guilt-trip me.

“Pulla, I assure you I will never let your mind wander off, ever again.”

What’s he playing again? Before my internal question was answered, a response from Levi was in order. He began to move again. The gentle sway of moments ago was gone, replaced by a deliberate, rhythmic thrusting that sent jolts of sensation through my still-sensitized body.

He seemed to be savoring the sensation, the way our bodies moved together in the reflection. His hands under my knees remained firm, a constant anchor as he dictated the rhythm. I could feel the muscles in his back flexing with each controlled push, and the unwavering intention behind each movement. As if he were etching this moment into my memory.

His voice, low and laced with a knowing anticipation, broke the rhythmic silence. "Pulla, do you want to see it, too?"

"I... I don't know." My hands lowered slightly, just enough to peek through my fingers at the reflection.

"Trust me, Pulla," he murmured, his voice a low caress that seemed to vibrate through my very core. "It is a magnificent sight."

His confidence was unwavering, his tone laced with a certainty that was both alluring and infuriating. My fingers twitched, the urge to fully lower my hands battling with the lingering embarrassment.

"Hesitation, my, my." His voice held a playful yet unmistakable edge. "But, let's raise the stakes, Pulla. If you don't avert your gaze from the mirror, from us; I will release you from this state."

Part of me yearned for the embarrassment to end, for the physical intensity to subside. But the thought of him withdrawing now, leaving me hanging, unsatisfied after such a high… it was almost unbearable.

"Choice is yours, Pulla," he reiterated, his voice a low murmur that held both a challenge and a promise. "Or we can keep going until dawn."

Until dawn? More of this intense, boundary-pushing intimacy? More of this intoxicating blend of pleasure and power?

No, I cannot keep going. No way. Just minutes ago I was crying from the pain. I lowered my hands and looked at the reflection, our reflection.

"Excellent choice, Raphael," Levi murmured, a hint of triumph in his low voice. His grip under my knees remained firm, and I could feel the subtle shift in his posture, a renewed sense of purpose.

He started moving, while watching me from the reflection. He was making sure that I didn’t avert my eyes. Asshole. But there was a difference. He wasn’t directly trying to pleasure me, no. It was him, using my body to pleasure himself.

He was moving at a pace he desired and he was reaching the depth of me as he wanted. Did you think, I wouldn’t like that? Of course not, it was fucking amazing.

His jaw clenching, his brows furrowing and some sweat beads trailing off his forehead… I could feel his breath against my neck and shoulders; he was reaching his edge, too. And to think that I was bringing him there even as he simply used me... It was, undeniably, fucking amazing.

But he was a stamina monster; it wasn’t going to take him some deep thrust to cum like me, like a rabbit, no.

As his pace got quicker, and he was pounding on the depths he couldn’t reach before, a knot swelled inside me once again. While I was expecting his release, I was getting close, too. Damn you, Raphael. You really are a bunny.

I clenched my jaw, trying to fight it, to prolong the moment, but the relentless rhythm he had established was making it increasingly difficult.

If I cum, he was going to tease me, for sure. But how long can I resist? This pure porno, watching each other’s reflection on the mirror, seeing his dick going up and down?

I couldn't… I couldn't resist. My muscles clenched, another cry, louder and more desperate than the last, escaped my lips, echoing in the tiled room. And then, the inevitable. A warm, thick stream erupted from me, spraying across the cool glass of the bathroom mirror.

His voice, though laced with a familiar teasing tone, held a hint of genuine amusement. "Having your fun, without me again, Pulla?"

His movements slowed slightly, a subtle shift that acknowledged my release without breaking the intimate connection. I could see his reflection in the still-wet streaks on the mirror, a smirk playing on his lips. The bastard. He had watched it all, had likely anticipated it. I hadn't managed to outlast him. Not even close.

“And you don’t believe me when I say you are cruel to me.” he remarked, his all-knowing, mocking smirk tugging at his lips. Damn.

“But, Raphael, it was truly magnificent, wasn’t it?”

He wasn't just teasing anymore. There was a genuine note in his voice. His gaze in the mirror held mine, a flicker of something that felt almost… tender? It was disorienting. One moment he was a manipulative bastard, the next he was offering this almost vulnerable moment of shared intimacy. My cheeks still burned with embarrassment. Magnificent? Despite the power imbalance, despite his control, it had been. Undeniably.

"Shut up and just cum," I grumbled, my voice still a little breathless. "My legs are going to have gangrene."

The position was starting to take its toll. Tender gazes and shared acknowledgments were all well and good, but I was still being held aloft like some kind of offering.

My impatient command seemed to snap him out of his reverie. His eyes darkened in the mirror, a predatory gleam returning, and the playful tenderness vanished. The edge returned to his movements, each thrust becoming harder, deeper, more insistent. The muscles in his back flexed with renewed intensity, and I could feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension coiling tighter and tighter within him. He was no longer just using me; he was driven, consumed by a need for release that mirrored my own recent desperation. A low growl rumbled in his chest, a primal sound that vibrated against my back. His pace quickened, each thrust pushing me closer and closer to the edge, but this time, he was right there with me. And then, with a final, guttural cry, he shuddered against me, his body going rigid as he finally found his release.

Finally. The tension slowly began to bleed out of his rigid frame, his breathing still ragged against my neck. It was over. A wave of exhaustion washed over me, a stark contrast to the lingering buzz of the multiple near-orgasms he had dragged out of me while he held back. The unfairness of it, the sheer stamina difference, was almost comical. He had barely broken a sweat, while my body felt thoroughly wrung out. Bastard. But at least now, maybe, he would finally put me down.

"Put me down, now," I managed, my voice raspy and laced with a weariness that went beyond just physical exertion.

"Surely, Pulla."

The lack of his usual playful resistance was almost startling. He simply complied, his hands releasing their firm grip under my knees as he gently lowered me until my feet touched the cool tile of the bathroom floor. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and my legs immediately protested. They felt weak and unsteady, the muscles quivering from the prolonged tension, the awkward angle, and the likely restricted blood flow towards the end. I swayed slightly, reaching out instinctively for something to steady myself.

That fucking asshole! He knew it, he knew I would sway. That’s why he didn’t protest when I wanted to get down. I was completely at his mercy, once again.

Utterly dependent on him even for something as simple as standing. Just when I thought the intensity had passed, he was there, his hands now firm but surprisingly gentle on my shoulders, offering a different kind of support. "Let's get you to the shower, Pulla."

As I was grateful for the offer, I was bewildered by both my own incompetence and his infatuating control. Then abruptly, his phone rang.

He glanced at the door, then me. "I need to take it," he murmured, his thumb gently stroking my shoulder for a fleeting moment. "It is late at night; it must be something important." He paused. "But do call out for me if you need help.”

Well, he was right, it was late at night and considering who Levi is, you can’t really call him for idle chit-chat, can you? He left the bathroom, leaving me trembling, shaking. It wasn’t his fault, no, but it felt lonely.