Levi's grip on my arm was firm, his eyes sharp as they registered the lingering tremor that still coursed through me. His brow arched slightly.

"Are you still in pain, Pulla?" he asked, his voice losing some of its earlier suggestive edge, replaced by a more clinical tone. "Your stitches will be removed very soon. Your doctor assures me the healing is progressing well."

“No, it’s not pain that’s making me tremble.”

"Then what is it, Raphael?" he asked, his voice softening slightly, a hint of curiosity lacing his tone. "What lingers?"

He didn't press, but the question hung in the air, an invitation, or perhaps a subtle demand, for me to articulate the complex web of emotions that bound me to him. But, if I said it out loud, how scary, terrifying, petrifying he was, the sliver of attraction that blossomed, the fragile connection would vanish.

"It's been a long day," I repeated, my voice still slightly unsteady. "The interview… and then you disappearing for a week… it's just catching up to me." I tried to sound weary, hoping he would accept the flimsy excuse.

"Pulla," he murmured, his voice a low caress that sent a shiver down my spine despite my efforts to remain detached. "You know I have sensitive ears." He paused, his eyes flicking down to my chest for a fleeting moment before returning to mine. "Your heart is thumping rather loudly for mere exhaustion. But I will not pressure you for an answer you are not ready to give."

See? Ever the dutiful. Easily threw me off balance. One carefully chosen word, a slight shift in tone, and he could dismantle me. Making the knot in my stomach release.

"Good night, Pulla. There will be a busy year ahead of us," he said gently.

I watched him walk away, his movements fluid and graceful, each step radiating an effortless control that both fascinated and intimidated me. He moved with quiet confidence. As he reached his bedroom door, he paused, his hand resting on the frame for a fleeting moment. Then, with a deliberate slowness that felt almost theatrical, he stepped inside… and left the door slightly ajar.

Asshole. The manipulative bastard. He guarded his study with the tenacity of a dragon protecting its cave. But here, after what we had just shared, his bedroom door was ajar?

It wasn't an oversight. Levi Blake didn't do oversights. He was dangling an invitation, a breadcrumb in the darkness of my isolation, knowing the desperate parts of me that might be tempted to follow. Illusion of choice. He wouldn't force me, but he would create the space, the opportunity, knowing my own conflicted desires could be his most potent weapon. The infuriating audacity.

I am a pig for giving in to him. I followed him to his bedroom.

Levi stood by a towering bookshelf, his back to me, his silhouette elegant even in casual attire. He was running a finger along the spines of the books, seemingly engrossed in selecting his evening read, as if my arrival was the most natural thing in the world.

"You are an asshole, you know that, right?" The words escaped me, a low hiss of resentment that broke the charged silence. My fists were clenched at my sides. "Why did you leave your door unlocked?"

He turned slowly, a faint, almost amused smile playing on his lips as his eyes met mine. The book remained unchosen, his attention now fully focused on me.

"Careless, Raphael?" he echoed, a hint of mockery lacing his tone. "Do you truly believe I operate with such… haphazardness? Especially after the… intimacy we just shared?" His gaze flickered down to my hands and back up to my eyes, a knowing glint in their depths. "The door was a courtesy. An acknowledgment of your free will. You could have stayed in your room, wrestled with your… conscience. But here you are. You may choose to cuss me, hit me, or do anything you want, truly. Although I will ask; do we really need this dance?”

I bitter, sarcastic laugh bubbled on my mouth. "I guess not, you manipulative fucker."

"Indeed," he murmured, his gaze unwavering. "The fundamental question, the one that will always linger between us, Pulla, is this: why deny yourself the solace, the connection – however fraught – that you clearly crave, all for the sake of a fragile, wounded pride?" He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "It has been a long week for me as well, Raphael," he admitted, the admission feeling strangely vulnerable. He reached out, his hand hovering near my cheek before gently settling there, his thumb stroking the skin lightly. "Now," he murmured, his eyes searching mine, a silent plea for a truce in their depths. "Now… let us simply forget, for a little while, everything else."

His thumb continued its slow, soothing stroke. "Just for now, Raphael," he murmured, his gaze dropping to my lips. "Just this moment. No power plays, no politics, no ghosts of the past. Just… this."

His gaze lingered on my lips, a silent invitation that bypassed the need for further words. Slowly, hesitantly, I closed the small distance between us, Between our lips.

Another, silent truce had begun.

Fuck him. Why does he have such soft lips if he only uses it for destruction?

The kiss began gently, a slow exploration that seemed to deliberately avoid any passionate intensity. The gentle pressure of his hands on my back guided me slowly downwards until the soft mattress yielded beneath me.

As the cool air hit my skin with the removal of my shirt, Levi's movements stilled. His gaze was fixated on the line of sutures on my shoulder. A subtle scrunching of his nose betrayed a flicker of something – distaste? Clinical interest? It was a brief, involuntary reaction. His eyes traced the path of the stitches, lingering on the raised, uneven skin, before flicking back up to meet my gaze.

"Are you absolutely certain that you will not be in pain?" he asked, his gaze still fixed on my shoulder.

“You are an even bigger pain, so, yeah.”

“Pulla, even at this moment, must you be cruel to me?”

I guess even our truce had its limitations. “Fine, fine. Just kiss me, I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

"As you wish, Raphael," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky register that still managed to send a shiver down my spine despite my annoyance. His gaze lowered to my lips once more, the invitation clear. He leaned in slowly, deliberately, giving me ample opportunity to turn away, to break this fragile truce. But the exhaustion, the confusing pull, the sheer weariness of fighting him at every turn… it held me captive. His lips finally met mine, a soft pressure that held a strange mix of tenderness and the ever-present undercurrent of his control.

His cold hands caressing my nipples sent a jolt through me, a sensation that was unwelcome yet undeniably present. My mind was still reeling from the manipulations, the constant power plays, the sheer audacity of this man. He was toxic, dangerous, and everything I stood against. Yet, as his touch trailed lower, a shameful heat began to bloom within me, a traitorous response that warred with my anger and disgust. I hated that he had this effect on me, that even in my exhaustion and wariness, a part of me, a weak, pathetic part, craved this connection, this physical closeness.

His slender fingers, worked at the fastening of my pants, a slow, deliberate act. Then, with a gentle slide, the fabric was gone, leaving me completely exposed on his bed. The contrast was there: I lay naked before him, while he remained clothed, the crisp white of his shirt a barrier between us.

My mind, already a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, latched onto this detail. It wasn't a lack of confidence; Levi exuded that in every aspect of his being. There was something else, a guardedness, a deliberate withholding. It was another layer of the wall he kept around himself, even in this intimate act.

Driven by a sudden impulse, a need to breach that barrier, I reached out. My fingers fumbled slightly with the buttons of his shirt, the smooth fabric cool beneath my touch. As the last button came undone and I began to ease the material from his shoulders, the look was there again. That familiar, chilling intensity in his eyes, a silent yet unmistakable warning: don't you dare.

I tried to shove the sudden chill, to the back of my mind. The another battle of wills, another push and pull, was simply too much to bear. With a sigh, I reached for the fastening of his pants, my fingers clumsy but determined.

Levi’s arousal was a slow burn, a gradual awakening. For me, however… a brush of lips, the warmth of his gaze, the mere suggestion of intimacy was often enough to get me hard.

Yeah, a rabbit. As he calls me as ‘pulla’. Damn.

As I lay there, exposed and vulnerable, Levi crawled onto the bed until he hovered above me, his presence both imposing and strangely alluring. Another kiss began, his lips pressing against mine with a slow, deliberate intensity that sent a confusing mix of shivers down my spine. His finger traced the path down my abdomen, each touch a subtle claiming, until it finally reached the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. He abruptly stopped. He lifted himself from the bed.

"I need to order the lubricant and condoms," he stated, his brow still furrowed as if contemplating a complex equation.

What? Is that it? A dry chuckle rumbled in my chest. "Tell your bodyguards at the door," I said, my voice laced with a sarcasm I couldn't quite suppress.

"Oh dear Pulla," Levi murmured, a hint of his usual knowing amusement returning, his brow unfurrowing slightly. He stepped closer to the bed, his gaze lingering on me with a renewed intensity. "Do not fret. The anticipation can be… quite stimulating, wouldn't you agree? And I assure you, I have several other ways to keep you thoroughly occupied while we wait.”

Shit, did I sound desperate

?

Levi's attention seemed to shift, his gaze sweeping around the room as if searching for something specific. He finally settled on a blanket draped over a nearby chair. He picked it up, his movements deliberate, and turned back to me, a curious glint in his eyes.

"Pulla," he said, his voice dropping to a low, suggestive murmur, "thus far, our… voyages into intimacy have been, shall we say, rather… vanilla." He paused, a hint of a predatory smile playing on his lips. "Let us try something new, shall we?"

New with Levi rarely meant something simple or pleasant for me.

“It depends…” I said hesitantly.

My hesitation seemed to amuse him. "Certainty, dear Pulla," he purred, his voice like velvet over steel, "is a delightful myth, isn't it? A comforting illusion for those who fear the unknown. But we are not those people. We thrive in the uncharted territories, in the exquisite tension of the unexplored. That is why we explore, is it not?”

He held the blanket loosely in his hands, a silent invitation to step outside the familiar boundaries of their encounters. His words, while laced with a seductive allure, carried an undercurrent of something else – a challenge, a subtle pressure to relinquish control and submit to his lead, to whatever "new" experience he had in mind.

I got out of the bed and walked to him. He stepped closer, and with a deliberate gentleness, wrapped it around my waist, covering my lower half. The confusion must have been evident on my face because the next thing I knew, I was being lifted, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist for balance.

He moved with a decisive purpose, carrying me effortlessly towards his bedroom door, the one he had so pointedly left ajar. With a subtle shift of his weight, he nudged it open further and then, pressed the intercom button on the wall beside the frame.

His voice, still close to my ear, was calm and matter-of-fact as he spoke into the device. "The previously requested items. Yes, bring them up now." He didn't elaborate, didn't acknowledge my presence in his arms. Held captive in this bizarre tableau – naked and wrapped in a blanket.

Then finally, my dumb horny mind, put the pieces together. The open door, the deliberate lack of privacy, the casual ordering of supplies as if this were a performance… He was gonna make the bodyguards watch us.

“Levi, you asshole, don’t you dare!” The words ripped out of my throat.

“Oh, pulla? What was going on that mind of yours?”

"Shut up! Put me down," I demanded, my voice trembling with a mixture of fury and a rising sense of panic. My legs instinctively tried to push away from his waist.

Levi chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver of revulsion down my spine. "My dear Pulla," he said, his grip tightening just enough to prevent me from dismounting, "your mind truly races faster than the rabbit you are. Such… vivid imaginations you possess." He shifted slightly, pressing me closer to the doorframe. "I was merely ensuring your delicate skin wasn't chilled by the door. A simple courtesy."

He paused, a hint of amusement lacing his tone. "Ah, but I see the gears turning now. Did you truly believe I would subject us to such a pedestrian display? Voyeurism, Pulla? Such a dirty, dirty mind you have."

"The fuck is all this then?"I spat, my voice raw with disbelief and lingering fear.

"You will hush now, dear," Levi murmured, his tone brooking no argument. He shifted his hold, lifting me just enough so that my back pressed against the cool wood of the door.

"No making sounds from now on," he instructed, his voice a low whisper against my ear. "The door is open just enough for them to place the bag on the threshold. They will not see anything unless they actively try to look inside. But if they hear you… their curiosity might get the better of them. So, my Pulla, absolutely no sounds."

"But, I must tell you this, for the sake of us," he continued, his voice still a low murmur, "if you do not wish to be silent, we can simply stop. I cannot force you, Pulla. Your cooperation, however would make things far more… interesting."

"Try me, you asshole."

"Such defiance, Pulla," he murmured, his breath ghosting against my ear. "Hush, now," Levi repeated, his voice a low command. He lowered his head, his lips brushing against my neck before his tongue flicked out, teasing the sensitive skin of my nipple.

It’s okay. I can endure some light teasing. Surely.

His teasing continued, a slow, deliberate wetness that circled my nipple, drawing out the sensation. I clenched my jaw, focusing on the cool press of the door against my back, trying to detach myself from the unwanted arousal his touch was beginning to elicit. Just endure it. Don't give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Think of other things, other things, like the movie you are shooting… Other…

The mantra wasn't enough. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to transport myself away from the feeling of his wetness, the possessive grip around my thighs, the cool wood against my spine.

Other things…

Anything but this. Anything but Levi's wetness, the subtle tightening of his grip, the suffocating feeling of being trapped and exposed.

And finally, a faint murmur of hushed voices drifted from the hallway. Footsteps, soft but distinct, approached the door. The rustle of a plastic bag. Shit. My heart hammered against my ribs.

And this lion, who was busying himself with only nipples seconds ago but the moment he realized someone was coming, started to rub his erection my thigh. No, Raphael, no sounds. Do not give in for the pleasure. I could feel my hips betraying my brain, slowly moving. Damn. Levi, ever the dutiful, registered my internal battle. A smirk, subtle yet undeniably present, played on his lips.

His vigorous rubbing against my thigh intensified, the pressure becoming more insistent, more demanding. A gasp escaped my lips, a small, involuntary sound that I immediately regretted. Shit.

Levi's smirk deepened. He stopped his vigorous rubbing, the pressure of his erection remaining an insistent weight against my thigh. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against my ear once more. "Such a responsive little rabbit," he murmured, his voice a low, possessive whisper. "Remember our agreement, Pulla. Silence."

And the Levi, played his last move, without warning, his grip on my thighs tightened. He lifted me slightly, shifting his hold to my buttocks, his fingers digging in firmly. The next moment, his lips were on me, his tongue flicking out to wet the tip of my dick. The unexpectedness of the act was a shock. My breath hitched, a purely physical reaction I couldn't suppress.

Damn, the view though. His face buried between my thighs. No, Raphael, do not think about it right now… A low groan escaped my throat. Levi stilled for a fraction of a second, his eyes meeting mine, a flicker of something unreadable within them before he resumed his wetness, a more insistent pressure this time. The awareness of the open door, the potential audience, faded into the background, replaced by the immediate, undeniable sensation of his mouth on me. My hips, against my will, shifted slightly.

The involuntary movement of my hips seemed to be all the encouragement Levi needed. His mouth intensified its attention, his tongue now stroking the length of my shaft with a deliberate rhythm. The sensation was sharp, insistent, cutting through the fog of my anger and humiliation. My breath hitched again, this time less from shock and more from a purely physical response I couldn't entirely suppress. My hands, still gripping his shoulders, tightened involuntarily.

The intensity of Levi's attention on me was abruptly broken by a polite, yet clear voice from just outside the door. "Sir, the items you have ordered have arrived."

Levi stilled, his lips parting from my throbbing dick. His deep blue eyes held mine for a fleeting moment. His grip on my buttocks remained firm as he straightened up slightly, never fully releasing me.

"Leave them," Levi commanded, his voice regaining its usual cool authority. He didn't look towards the door, his gaze remaining locked on mine, a silent challenge in their depths. The sound of soft footsteps retreating confirmed that his command had been obeyed. We were alone again, the unopened bag of lubricant and condoms lying just beyond the threshold.

"Did that… bother you? Knowing they were just outside? Or perhaps… it added to the experience?" Levi's gaze remained fixed on mine, a subtle challenge flickering in his dark eyes.

"Does it bother you that it doesn't bother me?" I met his gaze, trying to project a coolness I didn't entirely feel. The question was a gamble, a small act of defiance in a situation where he held all the physical power. I tried to ignore the lingering wetness on my skin, the insistent throb of my dick, and the memory of my own involuntary response.

"Pulla," he said, his voice smooth as silk but with an underlying steel, "you know I can simply instruct them to remain stationed by the door, yes? If you intend to challenge me, by all means, do so. But when your defiance lacks a genuine foundation… it ceases to be quite so intriguing."

"Then tell them to stay. See if I care." My voice wavered slightly, a tremor that betrayed the bravado I was trying to project. My grip on his shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly, a subconscious plea for some semblance of stability in this degrading situation.

Levi's eyes narrowed slightly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "That little tremor in your voice, Pulla… it suggests otherwise. Such a fascinating contradiction – the defiant words and the body's subtle betrayals. "Which one should I believe, I wonder?" Levi repeated, his gaze unwavering. He didn't wait for an answer, his attention shifting slightly, his eyes flicking down my body, lingering for a moment on my still-throbbing dick. "Regardless," he continued, his voice regaining its earlier smooth tone, “Shall we?" He shifted his hold slightly, a subtle invitation, or perhaps a command, to move away from the door.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"Yeah," I conceded, the fight draining out of me. He did win, didn't he? Every single time.

He carried me to the bed, his movements deliberate and unhurried. The blanket fell away as he gently lowered me onto the soft mattress. Only then did he turn back, retrieve the bag from the doorway, and finally close the door. The brief interruption was over. He crawled onto the bed, positioning himself over me, our bodies almost touching.

He reached for the lube, his eyes never leaving mine. With a slow, deliberate motion, he squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers, the clear gel catching the dim light. He paused, his slick fingers hovering just above my thighs, his gaze still locked on mine, as if seeking some unspoken permission or perhaps simply enjoying the anticipation. The silence stretched, broken only by our breathing, before he finally lowered his hand, his touch slow and deliberate as his slick fingers began to explore the juncture of my thighs.

"Pulla," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, "there is something I have been curious about for a while now. Would you kindly permit me to test a hypothesis?"

Damn, what is he playing at now? "Nothing too elaborate, do not worry," Levi murmured, his breath warm against my ear. His slick fingers resumed their slow exploration. "It simply pertains to your… exquisite responsiveness, Pulla."

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, his gaze lingering on my face, a hint of genuine fascination in his blue eyes. "The way your breath catches, the subtle flush that creeps across your skin… even now, when you try so hard to remain detached. It's intoxicating." His gaze drifted lower, tracing the contours of my body. "You are a study in contrasts, my dear. A fierce spirit contained within such… sensitive flesh. And the way you react, the involuntary tremors… it's a testament to a depth of feeling you try so hard to conceal. A truly… beautiful paradox."

Shit. I know this. He knows I enjoy getting the attention, the praise.

The unwanted heat that bloomed under his gaze. The wall of indifference was crumbling, brick by agonizing brick. His words were hitting their mark.

"A truly, beautifully captivating body, Pulla," Levi murmured, his gaze still intense as his thumb traced a line along my jaw. "Let me teach you how to appreciate it even more."

The slow, deliberate slide of his middle finger stretched me open, the earlier wetness offering a deceptive ease. He paused, allowing my body to adjust to the intrusion, and in that brief stillness, his lips found my ear. A soft, insistent wetness, a gentle nibbling that sent shivers down my spine, a deliberate sensory overload that left me breathless and entirely at his mercy. Then, without a word, he pressed again, slowly adding his second finger. There was no resistance, only a deeper stretching, a further invasion that amplified the feeling of being utterly possessed.

"Oh dear Pulla," Levi murmured, his breath ghosting against my ear. "Do not break my heart now by claiming you feel nothing. Hearing your ragged breath, tasting your skin, savoring this intimacy… it is a singular privilege."

Privilege. Damn his ability to twist everything, to make even this feel… significant in some perverse way.

I lifted on my elbows, and grabbed his wrist. “Hey, Levi. Stop with the gentle act and fuck me, now.”

I saw the calculating glint in his eyes, a flicker of something unreadable passing across his features. For a moment, the familiar smirk threatened to return, but then, surprisingly, he offered no resistance. No taunt, no witty retort. He simply reached for a condom from the discarded wrapper on the bedside table.

He positioned himself between my legs, the head of his erection pressing against my opening. Ever the dutiful husband, despite the circumstances. He squeezed more lubricant onto his dick, ensuring a smooth entry. His hands then gently gripped my waist, lifting my hips slightly, a small courtesy that felt strangely out of place given the raw demand I had just made.

Then came the slow push. Agonizingly slow. Each millimeter of his length stretching me, filling the emptiness that had been growing inside me for so long. I found myself clenching my jaw, focusing on my breath, allowing my body to accommodate his size. It had been so long since I had felt him inside.

A low moan escaped my lips, involuntary and raw, as he finally filled me completely.

"Deep breaths, Pulla," he murmured, his voice low and close, a strange mix of command and something that almost sounded like concern.

But I had been wrong. The initial fullness was just a prelude. A deep, forceful thrust followed, driving him even further inside, stretching me in ways that made my breath catch in my throat. A full cry tore from me then, involuntary and sharp.

God, that wasn't just fullness. It was like he was trying to push my stomach out through my spine. Even though he was taking it slow, the stretch was immense, like I was being opened up completely.

It was partly my fault for rushing into things so, I couldn't blame him. My breath hitched again as he remained fully inside, the sensation of being so completely filled almost overwhelming. His hands, still gripping my waist, tightened slightly, as if anchoring himself. The stretching sensation eased ever so slightly as my muscles began to relax, accommodating his size.

"Pulla, you are so tight," he murmured against my ear, his voice a low rumble, "are you in pain now?"

"No," I choked out, the word catching in my throat. "It's your dick that is ridiculous."

"Is that a complaint, Pulla? Or a grudging compliment?" Levi's voice was a low hum against my ear, and I could feel the subtle smirk in his tone.

Damn him. Always twisting my words. "Neither," I managed, my voice still a little shaky. "It's an observation of an… anatomical inconvenience." I tried to sound detached but the truth was, the sheer size of him inside me was a significant part of the overwhelming sensation.

"Pulla," Levi murmured, his voice dangerously soft against my ear, "you do know that when you lie, it only makes me want to chase the truth out of you even more… yes?"

He allowed a brief respite, a moment for me to draw a shaky breath. Then, the slow tempo began. Each deliberate, drawn-out movement was a sensual torment. I could feel the slick heat of his entire length stretching me, the swollen head pressing against places I hadn't realized were so sensitive. Every vein, every ridge of his hard cock seemed to imprint itself on my inner walls, a slow, deep burn that was both invasive and intensely arousing.

Once he seemed satisfied that I was stretched to his full capacity, the slow, deliberate pace shattered. He began to pound into me, the rhythm suddenly hard and relentless. Each thrust was deep, slamming against my core, leaving me breathless and reeling. My head thrashed against the pillow, and involuntary cries were ripped from my throat. Yet, midst the discomfort, a perverse heat began to bloom within me. My hips started to lift instinctively, meeting his forceful rhythm.

The relentless pounding continued, each thrust driving deeper, faster. My breath came in ragged gasps, my hands clawed at the sheets beneath me, bunching the fabric in a desperate grip. A low moan rumbled in my chest, building with each forceful entry. And then, a tightening deep within, a spiraling intensity that spread like wildfire. My back arched off the bed, a strangled cry escaping my lips as a powerful wave of pleasure washed over me, hot and consuming. My muscles contracted fiercely around him, milking him as my own release finally took hold, shaking my entire body.

As the tremors of my orgasm subsided, Levi’s relentless pace gradually eased. He remained inside me, still and deeply embedded, allowing my ragged breaths to even out. I could feel his gaze on me, a familiar glint in his eyes that spoke volumes. He was watching me, observing my still-flushed skin, the lingering tension in my body. And I knew that his mind was already plotting the next move, some new way to tease, to provoke, to further explore this intricate dance between us.

"How beautifully your body responds, dear Pulla," Levi murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against my skin.

Bastard. Just when I braced myself for a cutting remark, for some pointed tease about me finishing early, he chose this instead. My muscles instinctively tightened, a flinch against the unexpected tenderness. My eyes darted away, anywhere but on him. A betraying warmth crept up my neck, a shameful flush. I bit down hard on my lip, a futile attempt to suppress the confusing swirl of emotions. Damn him. Even his praise, laced with whatever twisted intent, still managed to… affect me.

He shifted, carefully maneuvering me until I was lying on my uninjured shoulder, then settled back onto the bed, spooning against me.

Still deeply inside me, he began to caress my body, his hands tracing slow, deliberate patterns along my sides, my hips, the curve of my waist. "I told you, my dear Pulla," he murmured, his breath warm against my neck, "I would teach you how to appreciate your body even more. Now, listen closely."

"Your pale blonde hair," he continued, his fingers now tracing the line of my jaw, tilting my head slightly, "catches the light so mesmerizingly. You make every head turn and look. It is an artwork, Pulla."

The warmth spread through my chest, a traitorous response to his unexpected adoration. Logic, suspicion, the memory of the recent intensity – none of it mattered in the face of his words. Whether genuine or a calculated manipulation, the praise was a potent drug, painting me in a light that felt… divine.

“Raphael, even now, with your defenses lowered, there's a fierce beauty in your eyes." Levi murmured, gently turning my head so that my gaze, however unwilling, met his. "A spark that refuses to be extinguished. A truly captivating fire within this exquisite frame."

As his gaze held mine, a slow, deliberate movement began within me, a gentle stirring that reignited. "You will believe my words," he continued, his voice a low murmur as he resumed his slow rhythm, "when everyone around us looks at you, dear. They will see what I see. This captivating fire.”

As his rhythm deepened, threatening to pull me under again, he suddenly stilled. The abrupt halt left me suspended, a knot of confused anticipation tightening in my chest. "What? Is something wrong?" I asked, the question barely a whisper.

"No, Pulla," he replied, his voice low and almost wistful. "I was just thinking about whether you would enjoy the King's crown."

What the hell? My mind reeled. Had he finally cracked? One moment, a raw, intimate connection, the next… royalty?

"Levi, what the fuck are you talking about?" I demanded, pushing myself up slightly, trying to meet his gaze. "We were just talking about you letting go of this vengeful god act.”

"Why?" Levi echoed, a strange earnestness in his eyes. "Because I think you would be a fair and competent ruler, Pulla. More so than the current one, certainly." He said it with such conviction, that it momentarily stunned me.

"No, I don't want to be a king, Levi. Obviously not! What are you even talking about? Where is this coming from?" I gestured vaguely between us. "We were just fucking and now you're offering me a crown? It makes no sense."

"While it is true that being the husband of the King carries a certain weight," Levi conceded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "I was merely considering a gift, Pulla. A gesture, given our truce." He gestured between us, mirroring my earlier movement. "A symbol of a new beginning, perhaps. A crown, befitting the artwork that you are."

"I think you would be a better king, though," I admitted, the thought actually crossing my mind for a fleeting moment. Levi's intensity, his sharp intellect… they would likely serve a ruler well. "But please," I added quickly, a genuine plea in my voice, "don't. I don't think my stress levels could handle that.”

"As you wish, Pulla," Levi conceded, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Neither of us gets the crown. Now, please lay on your side. My… thought process is over."

He punctuated his words with a gentle nudge, guiding me onto my side, his body spooning against mine once more. The bizarre interlude of crowns and kings seemed to have passed.

Did he really offer me the crown of Ascaria? The country? No, right?

He is a little bizarre but not that much… What am I even thinking about, it’s Levi. Of course he offered the Crown in the middle of fucking.

"Pulla, your mind wanders again," he murmured, his breath warm against the back of my neck.

“Of course it does.”

"You should accept my apologies, then, Pulla," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his tone that suggested he wasn't entirely remorseful. His hand tightened on my stomach, pulling me closer against his chest, and then his leg snaked over mine, effectively trapping me against him. The earlier slow, sensual exploration was gone, replaced by a driving rhythm that left me breathless and struggling to keep up.

He was actively trying to make me forget the crown, and kingdom talk.

Is this jealousy or ego? Or both? Was he jealous? Not of the crown itself, surely. He practically offered it to me. No, it was that my mind had wandered. My attention had drifted from him, from the intensity of what he was doing to me, to that absurd proposition. And that, I realized with a grudging understanding, was something his ego couldn't tolerate. He needed my focus, my reactions, my complete immersion in him.

Look at him, fucking me in his earnest, with his power to keep me grounded. It is maybe a little… human?

He continued his relentless rhythm, his gaze locked intently on mine. There was no witty remark, no playful taunt, just the deep, driving force of his body moving within mine.

The merciless tempo continued, each thrust a step closer to the inevitable. My breath hitched and shuddered, no longer just from the physical exertion but from the mounting pressure building within me. The strange moment of considering Levi's humanity was fading, drowned out by the rising tide of sensation. My grip on the sheets tightened, my knuckles white as my body began to clench around him involuntarily. A low moan escaped my lips, a sound that was less protest and more a helpless surrender to the approaching climax.

My body was already beginning to spasm.

"Pulla, not again," he said, his tone a mixture of exasperation and something else I couldn't quite decipher. And then, his hand clamped down hard at the base of my cock.

"Wh-AH!" The strangled cry was ripped from my throat.

"It is truly amusing to watch you, Pulla," Levi murmured, his grip still firm, "but don't you think you are being a little inconsiderate? We are engaged in a shared act, after all. And yet, you seem determined to rush ahead without me." There was a teasing lilt to his voice, but beneath it, I could sense a genuine expectation, a desire for our releases to be synchronized, controlled by him.

"Next time, Pulla," he continued, his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly, "I will tie it, so you won't even have the option. But for now, try your best to hold it in.”

Even as he issued his little decree, his own control seemed to be wavering. His relentless pace became uneven, a subtle stutter in his rhythm. His breath, which had been steady and forceful, now came in shallower, quicker gasps against my ear. And then, a series of tiny, involuntary moans brushed against my skin, soft sounds that betrayed his own mounting pleasure.

With a final, shuddering gasp, his grip on the base of my cock loosened. The pressure vanished, and the dam within me finally broke. A guttural cry tore from my throat as a powerful wave of pleasure ripped through me, hot and consuming. Simultaneously, I felt Levi's body arch against mine, his own ragged moans growing louder, more insistent. His movements became short, sharp thrusts, a frantic release against my back.

He remained inside me for a long moment, both of us catching our breath in the aftermath. Then, with a slow, deliberate slide, he withdrew. He flicked the used condom into the nearby waste bin. And despite the complex emotions swirling within me, the truth resonated with a surprising intensity: I wanted him back inside me.

But how do I admit it to him? To his smug face.

The sight of him moving away, the cool air hitting my skin where he had been, only intensified the lingering ache. He moved with a casual grace, retrieving the wipes and cloth, his movements efficient and unhurried. Each step he took away from the bed felt like a small act of withdrawal. Damn.

He moved with a deliberate care, mindful of my injured shoulder as he reached for the cleansing supplies. His usual effortless grace was tempered with a focused gentleness as he dampened the cloth and approached the bed. He avoided putting any pressure on my bad side. He could be brutal and demanding, yet also possess a surprising level of attentiveness to my physical well-being.

It was, peaceful. Serene even. But, every soft dab of the cloth, every careful adjustment of my position, sent involuntary shivers of renewed arousal through me. My mind, despite appreciating the unexpected tenderness, was stubbornly, relentlessly horny. And my body, ever the honest traitor, was flinching with need at his every touch, a silent scream for more.

You are a pig Raphael. And a complete, utter fool.

"Pulla, what is it that you are thinking so deeply?" Levi's voice, soft and observant, cut through my self-deprecation. His gaze was steady, those blue eyes seeming to peer right through my flimsy attempts at composure. The gentle care he was still administering only amplified my internal conflict. He was being… kind. And all I could think about was having him inside me again.

The thought of him seeing the tell-tale flush creeping up my neck, the undeniable heat in my cheeks, was unbearable. So, I did the only thing I could think of: I turned my back to him, burying my face in the pillow.

"Is your shoulder bothering you, Pulla? You seemed comfortable just a moment ago."

Staying silent would only heighten his suspicion. I kept my face buried in the pillow, my voice muffled as I replied, "It just… aches a little. It's nothing."

"Let me adjust the pillow for you," Levi murmured, his voice softening slightly. He carefully reached around me, his touch light on my uninjured shoulder as he gently plumped the pillow beneath my head. The movement brought him closer, his breath warm against my ear. It was a seemingly innocent gesture of care, yet the proximity, the lingering scent of him, only served to amplify the unwelcome stirring of desire I was trying so desperately to conceal.

Damn. He was never this nice, this gentle. Usually, his care was perfunctory, efficient. Why now? Was he playing me again?

I turned my head just enough to catch his gaze, my brow furrowed with suspicion. "Why are you being… nice?"

Levi raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, a hint of his usual sardonic amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Is my kindness so unsettling, Pulla? Perhaps you prefer the usual torment."

His words held a grain of truth. Our dynamic was so often defined by conflict and intense physicality that this unexpected gentleness felt… foreign.

"I must ask though, Pulla," Levi continued, a playful smirk now gracing his lips, "was there ever a time I was rude?"

Rude was such a simple word to describe the constant undercurrent of antagonism that simmered beneath his polished surface. He never resorted to cussing or physical violence, no. His rudeness was far more refined, a subtle art of provocation woven into his every word and action. It was in the knowing glint in his eyes, the deliberate pauses, the way he could dissect my vulnerabilities with a single, well-placed remark.

"You are just not 'rude'," I conceded, the sarcasm still thick in my voice, "but everything else? Absolutely."

Levi's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "Well, Pulla," he purred, his voice a low rumble, "wouldn't you be terribly bored if I were simply… nice?"

I had to admit there was a twisted sort of truth to it. Our interactions, however frustrating, were rarely dull. His constant need to provoke, to challenge, kept me on edge, even if it also drove me mad. A sigh escaped my lips, a reluctant acknowledgment.

Before I could even turn my head to decipher the glint in his eyes or the subtle shift in his posture, I felt the cool slide of a fresh condom being rolled into place. A beat later, his warmth radiated against my back, his presence looming over me, a silent, undeniable invitation. The unexpected swiftness of his actions, the almost predatory anticipation in his stance, sent a shiver down my spine.

"Pulla," Levi murmured, his voice a low rumble against my back, the slide of the condom a cool prelude to the heat that was about to follow. "I told you I would coax the truth from you, layer by exquisite layer. Now, now," he continued, his hands settling on my hips, a firm, guiding pressure. "Kindly squeeze your abs for me, and take a deep, long breath, dear.

His hand, firm yet undeniably possessive, molded the curve of my hips, tilting my ass just so, presenting my hole to his impending invasion. His fingers, those long, knowing instruments of pure, exquisite torment, traced lazy, deliberate circles around my already throbbing entrance. This sensual reconnaissance, a prelude to the deep, primal fucking I knew was coming. Each teasing swirl of his fingertip was a spark against dry tinder, igniting a fresh wave of desperate wetness and a reflexive clench deep in my core.

The circling grew bolder, a definite pressure now, spreading me wider. He fucking knew what he was doing, this deliberate, drawn-out foreplay designed to leave me panting and begging for his cock. It was a silent, arrogant assertion of his ownership over my body and its frantic responses. The deep breath he’d commanded caught in my throat.

And then, the agonizingly slow probing began. Hard, insistent pressure against my burning hole. He was taking his sweet time, savoring my helpless anticipation, drawing out the exquisite torture until I was whimpering for release. Each agonizing millimeter of entry was a fresh wave of sensation, a stretching, searing ache that was both pure agony and pure, filthy pleasure. My hands clawed at the sheets beneath me, knuckles white as I fought the urge to buck against him, to demand the full, brutal length of his cock.

My hips were already arching, a desperate plea for him to just fuck me already.

Then, with a final, decisive thrust, he breached the barrier. A sharp intake of breath escaped my lips as he slid in, slow and deep, stretching me to my limit. The burning sensation was intense, almost unbearable, yet it was quickly followed by a wave of overwhelming fullness, a primal satisfaction that sent a shudder through my entire body. And as he began to move, slow and deliberate at first, a low moan escaped my lips, a helpless surrender to the exquisite agony of being thoroughly, utterly fucked.

His hands left my hips, sliding up my sides, his fingers splaying against my rib cage. He was holding me captive, his body a solid weight, his cock a demanding presence deep within. Each slow withdrawal and deliberate thrust was a fresh wave of sensation, pulling me further and further away from any semblance of control.

The only sounds in the room were our ragged breathing and the soft, wet slap of our bodies colliding. My head lolled to the side, my vision blurring at the edges as the relentless rhythm began to build. The slow torment was giving way to a more urgent pace, each thrust deeper, harder, driving me closer to the precipice. My own internal clenching intensified, a desperate, involuntary response to the overwhelming fullness and the relentless friction. The truth he sought was being wrung from my body in gasps and moans.

Final, earth-shattering thrust, he was still, buried deep within me, his body shuddering with the force of his release. The guttural roar that had ripped from, a primal sound that resonated deep within my own core as my orgasm finally shattered what little control I had left. It was a brutal, beautiful culmination, a night etched in the contrast of terror and pleasure. A pang of melancholy tightened my chest at the thought that this intense, visceral connection was drawing to a close. Despite the fear he often instilled, in these moments of raw intimacy, there was a strange, undeniable pull left me almost… wanting more. The aftermath, the slow return to a separate reality, always felt like a subtle form of loss.

He remained buried deep within me for a long moment, his breathing still heavy against my back. His grip on my hips tightened almost imperceptibly, a possessive hold that belied the receding tremors of his orgasm. "Not quite done yet, are we?" he murmured.

As much as a selfish, desperate part of me yearned for the relentless pleasure to continue until the first rays of dawn painted the sky, until my body was nothing but a quivering, sated mess, the undeniable ache in my muscles was beginning to assert itself.

"I'm really tired…" The admission escaped my lips, a soft murmur against the damp sheets. Yet, there was also a tinge of regret in my voice.

"Ah, Pulla…" Levi murmured, a hint of reluctant understanding in his voice. "As you wish.” Then, his cool palm gently cupped my sweaty, flushed face, his thumb lightly brushing across my cheekbone. "Now, close your eyes," he instructed softly, his touch soothing. "Leave everything to me."

It was clear, despite his concession to my exhaustion, that the desire to continue still lingered within him. But he didn't press, respecting my stated need for rest. The coolness of his hand against my heated skin was strangely comforting, a silent lullaby urging me towards sleep.

Sleep claimed me quickly, a heavy, welcome oblivion after the intense physicality of the night. I was vaguely aware of a cool touch on my skin, the gentle swipe of something damp. A sense of being lifted, though the edges of consciousness remained blurred. The next thing I knew, I was sinking into the familiar softness of my own bed. A soft blanket was carefully draped over me, a final act of unexpected tenderness before darkness fully enveloped me.