The nicotine had calmed the immediate tremors in my hands, but the fog in my mind remained. Each exhale of smoke seemed to carry away a fraction of the adrenaline, only to leave behind a more terrifying reality. I had come face-to-face with someone who likely wanted me dead. It wasn't some abstract threat. A woman who moved in Levi's mother's circles, who wielded social power and, apparently, the willingness to order my assassination.

"Levi, that bastard Liam, the production assistant on set!" I exclaimed, my voice tight with fury. "He was their informant, I know it! His smugness, the way he pried… they must have used him to get our address. Fuck!"

Levi waved a dismissive hand, his expression bordering on bored. "Pulla, please. That scurrying little rat is of no consequence. He was a tool, nothing more."

"Easy for you to say!" I retorted, still reeling. "But did you miss the part where that woman just publicly accused me of sleeping around? You were the one being painted as a fool!"

Levi raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Raphael, to suggest I would descend to the petty emotion of jealousy over such insignificant vermin is rather… beneath me, wouldn't you agree?"

He then leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, his eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. "Besides, consider the source. Lady Beatrice's pronouncements carry the weight of… well, let's just say they are more reflective of her own antiquated worldview and desperate attempts to sow discord than any actual truth. To be bothered by her pronouncements would be akin to being offended by the buzzing of a particularly persistent fly."

A wry smile touched my lips. "Yeah," I murmured, echoing Levi's sentiment. His confidence, bordering on arrogance, was both infuriating and undeniably reassuring in moments like these.

My thoughts, however, drifted to the memory of Lady Ophelia's hand resting on his arm, the easy familiarity in her touch. A knot of unease tightened in my chest. And he even lied about what they were talking about.

The bravado finally crumbled. The weight of the evening – the assassination attempt, the public accusations, the unsettling interaction with Lady Ophelia, and Levi's evasiveness – all crashed down on me. My vision blurred, and a lump formed in my throat.

"I think…" my voice wavered, the forced steadiness gone, "I want to go home now, Levi. All of this… it's too much." Tears welled in my eyes, hot and unwelcome. I turned away slightly, not wanting him to see me like this. "But you should stay," I added, a strange mix of pride and insecurity twisting inside me. "It's your event. You can't just leave because I'm… being irrational."

“The beauty and the worst part of emotions are; they are not rational. You have every right to be scared. If you wish to leave, you are free to do so. I can send someone to accompany you.”

Levi's offer, though kind, felt distant.

"No," I said, my voice still thick with unshed tears. "No, you shouldn't send someone. And I don't want to be alone right now, either." I looked up at him, my gaze pleading. "Could... could we just go? Both of us? Leave all this behind for tonight?"

“As you wish, Raphael. Let us go home.” He cupped my cheek gently in his hand, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

He turned, his usual charm replaced by a curt nod to the nearest staff member, conveying our departure without a word. His arm remained firmly around my shoulders, guiding me through the thinning crowd, each step taking us further away from the glittering tension of the gala.

…

Each passing streetlight illuminated the raw emotion etched on my face, the tears I fought so hard to suppress still clinging to my eyelashes. Levi sat beside me, his gaze fixed on the blur of the city lights outside the window, his profile a study in quiet contemplation. I wondered what he was thinking, if he was still replaying the events of the evening, strategizing, or simply giving me the space I seemed to need.

After that, we returned to penthouse and Levi went to his room to change his clothes.

And what do you do when you are sad?

You drink.

The cool glass felt heavy in my trembling hand. I didn't bother to read the label on the bottle; any oblivion would do. With a shaky pour, the amber liquid filled the glass.

As alcohol was finally blurring my vision, Levi came back from his room and gently placed his head on my shoulder.

His familiar scent, usually a source of reassurance, was tinged tonight with the lingering scent of cologne and something else stirred the unease within me.

“Why… did you lie to me about Lady Ophelia?” My voice was thick with unshed tears and the unsteady courage lent by the alcohol. Levi’s head, which had been resting gently on my shoulder, stiffened almost imperceptibly.

Levi's voice, though calm, held a carefully neutral tone. "Pulla," he said softly, "I simply didn't wish to burden you with the details. It was a rather tedious conversation. Nothing of consequence."

If it was truly nothing, why the hesitation? Why the slight stiffness in his posture?

"Oh," I said softly, the bravado fueled by the alcohol momentarily dissolving, replaced by a wave of raw hurt. My gaze drifted back to the glittering cityscape, the lights now blurring through the tears that finally spilled over. "So, my feelings… my reaction to seeing another woman touch you with such familiarity… that would be a burden to you? Something to be shielded from? But her 'tedious' conversation… that was something you simply 'forgot' to mention?"

Levi hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away from mine, towards the expanse of the city, before returning to my face. "Raphael," he said, his tone carefully neutral, almost too casual. "It was truly nothing of importance, just… polite conversation. You're understandably on edge tonight, my Pulla. Let's not manufacture problems where there are none, especially when the real threats are external, wouldn't you agree?"

This bastard. He was lying to my face again.

"You," I repeated, my voice trembling, the alcohol-fueled courage now laced with genuine fury. "How can you stand there, look me in the eye, and so openly lie to me? After everything that has happened tonight – someone tried to kill me, your mother's friend publicly accused me – and you still choose to be dishonest? It's not just a lie, Levi. It's insulting. It's like you don't trust me enough to tell me the truth, or worse, you don't respect my feelings enough to even try."

Levi’s voice, though still low, now carried a sharp edge of hurt and defensiveness. “Ah, dear pulla,” he said, the endearment laced with a hint of exasperation. “I didn’t invite you to our conversation, because that conversation was about the mansion I burned. Remember? About how we didn’t speak for a week after that? How you called me a string of rather colorful names? I simply did not want to dredge up those unpleasant memories for you, to make you feel burdened or guilty again. But instead,” his voice rose slightly, tinged with disbelief, “you accuse me of what? Betrayal? Do you truly think, after everything we have been through, everything we share, that I would ever even consider… cheating on you?”

"So, you thought I'd be upset about a conversation with an old friend? Is that what you think of me, Levi? That I'm so fragile, so possessive, that I can't handle you speaking to someone from your past? Or is it that you know there's more to it, something you don't want me to know? Something about Lady Ophelia that you felt the need to hide?"

The tears welled up again, blurring his face.

"Raphael," he said, his gaze intense, "did you truly think, for even a moment, that I would harbor any sort of… relationship with a noble woman? After everything I have chosen, everything I have fought for? To even suggest I would look back… it's frankly baffling." He reached for my hand, his touch firm. "Have I given you any reason to doubt my commitment, my loyalty?”

"No," I said, my voice softer now, the anger giving way to a weary uncertainty. "Not exactly. But you weren't honest with me, Levi. You dismissed that interaction as 'tedious,' as 'nothing.' And that… that makes me wonder what else you might be keeping from me. Especially tonight, when everything feels so fragile."

Levi nuzzled his face against my shoulder, his breath warm against my neck, a familiar gesture that tonight felt laden with a theatrical sorrow. "Truly, truly," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated against my skin, "it baffles me beyond comprehension that you, you of all people, would ever compare yourself to another human being in my estimation. No one, Raphael, no one in this world holds even the faintest flicker of a candle to your light in my eyes. And yet… you accuse me of this. Of betraying that singular brilliance for some pale imitation? Ah, pulla," he sighed, a dramatic tremor in his voice, "you wound me deeply, gravely. More than any blade, more than any threat they could ever devise." He tightened his hold, a subtle pressure that felt almost like a plea.

“Again, it was about the mansion I burned to gently remind them whose husband they dared to hurt. Lady Ophelia was my informant of that delightful dinner they were having that night. She gave the intel of their gathering, and helped me with the safe evacuation. And the touch of the arm? She was just congratulating me about the marriage and thanking me for reminding those pesky nobles how easy it is to burn everything down, dear. I just didn’t want you to remember that.”

He looked directly into my eyes. "My reluctance to share this stemmed from not wanting to reignite that pain for you, Raphael. It was a clumsy attempt to shield you from a past that caused you so much grief. Was it a mistake? Clearly. But it was born of a desire to protect you, not to deceive you."

"So," I said slowly, my voice still thick with the lingering effects of the alcohol and the emotional roller coaster of the evening. "You lied to protect me from… myself? From my reaction to your burning down a mansion? It is even more insulting. If you just said it then and there we wouldn’t be talking about any of this.”

Levi sighed, the tension returning to his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair. "Perhaps you are right, Raphael," he conceded, his voice tinged with a weary resignation. "My intentions, as always, were… complicated. I admit, there was a degree of wanting to avoid a repeat of your understandable distress. The memory of your anger that week… it is not something I relish revisiting."

He stepped closer, his gaze softening slightly. "But you are correct. My attempt at shielding you clearly backfired, causing more hurt and suspicion than the truth might have. It was a misjudgment. I apologize for that."

I looked down at our joined hands.

“I have an… idea about for the rest of our night.” I whispered.

A faint smile touched Levi's lips, a genuine softening in his eyes. "Do you now?" he murmured, his voice losing its earlier defensiveness.

“You know when that noble, that piece of shit Harrington asked about how I entertained you? I was gonna tell him how I taught to how to suck a dick.”

A slow, wicked grin spread across Levi's face, mirroring the mischievous glint that returned to his eyes. He chuckled softly, the sound low and intimate. "Ah," he murmured, his grip tightening on my hand. "Always the delightful provocateur."

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. "While the image of Harrington's undoubtedly horrified expression is undeniably appealing, perhaps for tonight, we can reserve your… educational talents for a more appreciative audience." His gaze flickered down to my lips, a silent invitation.

I kissed him, of course. His damn soft lips, his subtle soapy scent… Once again, a silent agreement, a return to the language we both understood so well.

He pulled back from the kiss just enough to whisper against my lips, his gaze flicking towards the expansive windows that offered a breathtaking view of the capital’s skyline. "Pulla," he murmured, his voice a low, suggestive rumble, "if your wish is indeed an audience, I have a rather… spectacular idea." He punctuated his words with a soft nip at my lower lip.

“Oh?” I breathed, my own playful spirit beginning to resurface. “And what spectacular idea might that be, Levi?”

He led me towards the panoramic windows, the city lights painting our faces in a glittering tableau.

“They seek to diminish us, to pry into our intimacy with their venomous gazes,” he murmured, his voice a low growl that vibrated through me. “Let them witness the fire that burns between us, a fire that their petty schemes and prejudices can never extinguish.”

He turned to me, his gaze intense. “Tonight, Raphael, the city is our witness. And we will give them a spectacle worthy of their envy.”

“Okay… I am fine with that but I am not taking my clothes off.”

Levi chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest that vibrated against me. He brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, his eyes filled with amusement and a touch of tenderness. "Oh, my cautious pulla," he murmured, his voice a silken caress. "Your mind races faster than your beautiful heartbeat again. This is the highest room in the capital. Even the most dedicated of little voyeurs would require divine intervention to witness anything untoward from down there. Only God, if he exists and has particularly keen eyesight, could possibly be our audience."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against my ear. "And even then," he whispered, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "I doubt even the Almighty would find fault in the art we are about to create."

A wave of heat flushed my cheeks, despite my earlier bravado. How did he manage to say such provocative things with effortless grace, without a hint of self-consciousness?

"You are the devil, Levi," I murmured, shaking my head with a fond exasperation. "Truly and utterly the devil." The city lights outside seemed to wink in agreement.

"Then let me show you, my exquisite Raphael," he purred, his hand tracing the curve of my hip, "precisely how the devil consumes."

“You were gonna say ‘fucks’, right? C’mon, just say it now.”

He chuckled softly, a low rumble in his chest. "My perceptive Raphael," he murmured, his fingers now gently pressing into the small of my back. "While the sentiment might be primal, my dear, my expression of it tends to be a touch more… eloquent."

While I was happy with our banter, my earlier thought from two days ago sparked in my mind. Levi was always restrained while we’re having sex, never pressuring for more. So, why not anger him into fucking me till dawn?

But, how I anger him just enough to fuck me, not to snap my neck in a swift motion? How to anger Levi just enough to make him lose his restraint?

Yes, dirty talk. He always acts weird when I use dirty talk.

My smirk widened, a deliberate edge entering my voice. I leaned in closer, my lips a breath away from his. "Levi," I breathed, my fingers now tracing the hard line of his jaw, "when your cock is throbbing inside me, stretching me open, are you really thinking about iambic pentameter? Or are you imagining the slick slide, the desperate gasps, the raw, animalistic need?"

My gaze dropped pointedly to his mouth, then flicked back up, challenging him. "And two nights ago, when your hand was clamped around my dick, milking it slowly, deliberately denying me release… was that an exercise in restraint, or were you picturing my face contorted in pleasure, begging for you to finally let me cum?"

Levi's eyes darkened, the playful amusement vanishing, replaced by a raw intensity. "Raphael," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, husky growl. "You mistake my control for a lack of desire. Restraint, my dear, can be the most exquisite form of torment… for both of us. And the anticipation, the slow burn… only intensifies the eventual release." His gaze flickered down my body, a possessive heat in his eyes, but with a hint of something else – a mirroring of my own desire. "Tonight, you wish to see the devil unleashed?"

“Yeah, I do.”

"Then, my exquisite Raphael," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous caress, "prepare to be utterly… consumed." His hands left my arms, sliding down my sides, a possessive heat in his touch. He turned slightly, his gaze sweeping towards the bedroom door.

Dude just loved his protected sex. What a weird, bizarre and charming man.

The cool glass against my forehead offered a momentary respite from the heat that was beginning to build within me. The sprawling cityscape beneath us, the capital laid out like a glittering tapestry, suddenly felt distant and insignificant compared to the warmth that enveloped me from behind. Levi's arms circled my waist. His fingers deftly fastened the buckle of my belt.

"Pulla," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, his voice a low rumble that echoed the anticipation in my own chest, "while I will respect your earlier wishes regarding attire, I feel it is my duty to remind you that your most exquisite presentation remains your unadorned self." His lips brushed against my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. "A delightful vision, indeed."

How can he say those things in the heat of this moment, how?

A sharp inhale hitched in my throat as the cool, slender touch of his finger ghosted over my cock through the fabric of my trousers.

"Levi," I managed, my voice a strained whisper, "if you find the view so 'delightful,' perhaps you should expedite the… unveiling." My hand instinctively covered his on my burgeoning erection, a silent plea and a blatant invitation all in one.

Levi's cool fingers remained pressed against my hardening cock through the fabric, a deliberate tease that sent a jolt of heat through me. "Patience, my dear pulla," he murmured, his voice a low, husky caress that belied the possessive grip of his hand. "Anticipation is a delicate art. And the eventual surrender… all the more rewarding for the delay."

His thumb then began to trace the rigid length beneath the cloth, a slow, deliberate stroke that made me gasp. "You feel rather… eager tonight," he observed, his tone almost clinical, yet the underlying heat in his eyes betrayed his own arousal.

My control was rapidly slipping. "Levi," I choked out, my hips beginning to twitch involuntarily against his hand, "if you don't intend to do more than just… admire the view, you're going to drive me mad."

His thumb continued its slow, torturous exploration, pressing just hard enough to elicit a groan from me. "Madness, my Raphael?" he murmured, his lips nuzzling the sensitive skin of my neck. "Or perhaps… frustrated?"

His other hand, which had been resting lightly on my waist, now slid lower, cupping my ass through my trousers, his fingers kneading the firm muscle. "Tell me precisely what would alleviate this… delightful frustration," he whispered, his voice a silken invitation. "Be specific, my dear. Educate your devoted devil."

The combination of his words, his touch on my straining cock and the insistent pressure on my backside, was sending me spiraling. "Your mouth, Levi," I managed, my voice thick with need. "I want your mouth… everywhere." My hips shifted again, a desperate plea for release against his hand.

"Everywhere?" he murmured, his fingers now flexing, pulling me closer against his hardening body. "Such a demanding request, pulla. But if you wish to be thoroughly undone, I am more than capable."

His hand on my cock tightened, the pressure increasing, a clear challenge. "Tell me exactly what you want, Raphael," he commanded, his lips now trailing down my neck, his breath hot against my skin. "Don't hold back. I want to hear the precise details of your… surrender."

My breath hitched, but I refused to let him see how close I was to the edge. "Your tongue, Levi," I managed, my voice rough with need, but still holding a thread of command. "Everywhere. Lapping, sucking… until I can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel you. And don't stop," I added, my hips bucking against his hand, a desperate movement, "until I'm begging for you to fuck me."

A dark chuckle rumbled in Levi's chest, a sound that was more possessive than amused. "Begging?" he murmured, his teeth nipping lightly at the sensitive skin of my neck. "An intriguing prospect, my proud Raphael. One I will endeavor to elicit with… enthusiasm."

His hand on my cock began to move, the pressure and rhythm increasing, a deliberate and knowing stroke that pulled a groan from deep within me. Simultaneously, his other hand slid further down my backside, his fingers now finding the cleft of my ass, pressing insistently.

"Tell me what it feels like, Raphael," he commanded, his voice a low growl against my ear.

My breath was coming in ragged gasps. The insistent pressure on my cock, combined with the intimate exploration of his fingers against my backside, was a potent assault on my senses. "God, Levi," I choked out, my hips beginning to grind against his hand. "It feels… like I'm going to shatter. Like you're going to break me open."

"Shatter?" he murmured, his fingers now expertly teasing the sensitive underside of my cock, his other hand pressing insistently against my ass. "A most intriguing choice of words."

His touch intensified, becoming more deliberate, more demanding. The pressure on my cock was exquisite torture, while his fingers explored the intimate space between my buttocks with a possessive heat that made me want to arch into him.

"Tell me more, Raphael," he commanded, his voice a rough caress against my ear. His breath hitched, a sound that was almost lost in the ragged gasps that were tearing from my throat.

"Fuck," I managed, the word a raw plea, a desperate command. "I want you to fuck me. Hard. Deep. Until I can't feel anything but you."

"Hard and deep," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. His fingers slipped lower, finding the entrance, a deliberate and possessive exploration that made my hips buck involuntarily.

A strangled gasp escaped my lips as Levi's fingers, slick with my own pre-cum, pressed against my tight entrance. My hips arched again, a desperate, involuntary movement urging him to go further, to breach the barrier.

Levi chuckled softly against my ear, a low rumble that vibrated through me. "Such eagerness, pulla," he murmured, his voice thick with arousal. He withdrew his fingers slightly, and I groaned in protest, desperate for the pressure to continue. "Patience," he rasped, his hand now sliding to my hip, his thumb tracing the curve. "We wouldn't want to proceed unprepared."

With a deliberate movement, he reached into his pocket, grabbing a condom. With deft, practiced movements, he tore it open and sheathed his already hard cock.

Then, his fingers returned to my slick entrance, this time coated with the cool glide of lubricant. The sensation was instantly heightened, the anticipation building to a fever pitch. He pressed the lubricated tip against my opening, and I gasped, my body instinctively arching to meet him.

With a low growl that spoke of barely contained desire, he finally began to push inside. The initial stretch was intense, but the slickness eased the friction, allowing him to fill me slowly, deliberately, inch by agonizing inch.

Levi paused, his hard length filling me completely, drawing a shuddering breath from me. He remained still for a moment, letting me adjust to the fullness, the intense pressure that radiated through my core. I leaned heavily against the cool glass of the window. Slow, deliberate strokes at first, each inch of withdrawal and re-entry stretching me in a way that was both exquisitely painful and intensely pleasurable. My head fell back against his shoulder, my eyes fluttering closed as the sensations washed over me in waves.

"Tell me what you want, Raphael," he murmured, his voice a rough caress against my ear. His hands, which had been gripping my hips, now slid around to cup my ass, his fingers digging in possessively as he began to deepen the thrusts.

"More," I gasped, my hips instinctively arching to meet his deeper strokes. "Deeper, Levi. Fuck me harder."

His fingers dug into the flesh, lifting and tilting my hips to meet the increasing depth of his thrusts. Each powerful lunge stretched me wider, filling me completely, and drawing a ragged cry from my throat.

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"Harder?" he repeated, his breath hot against my neck. "As you wish, Raphael." The rhythm intensified, his hips slamming against mine with a raw, unrestrained energy that sent shock waves of pleasure through my body. I gripped the cool glass of the window, as I fought to keep from shattering into a million pieces.

"Levi," I gasped, my voice barely a whisper, a plea and a demand all in one. My hips bucked against his, urging him on, desperate for the release that felt so close, yet still agonizingly out of reach. His grip on my ass tightened, his fingers digging in further, as if trying to pull me even deeper into him.

He didn't answer with words, only with a guttural growl that vibrated against my neck and a further increase in the intensity of his movements. The wet slap of our bodies grew louder, the only sound in the world that mattered. Each powerful thrust sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through me, building the pressure behind my eyes, tightening the knot in my stomach.

Then, with a final, shuddering lunge, he drove into me as deep as he could go, holding me there, his body rigid with tension. A strangled cry tore from my throat as the overwhelming pleasure finally crested, shattering through me in a series of violent spasms. I clung to the cool glass, my body trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of pure sensation washed over me, the world dissolving into pure feeling.

Levi's voice, thick with lingering arousal and a hint of playful accusation, rumbled against my ear.

"Pulla," he said, a chuckle underlying his words. "Again? And you didn't even wait for me to join you on that particular precipice?"

"Yeah, I did," I said, a lazy smirk spreading across my face. "Sue me. You had me so wound up, Levi, I couldn't exactly wait for you to finish your… scenic tour." I shifted my hips slightly, still intimately connected to him. "Besides," I added, my voice a low purr, "you weren't exactly lagging behind."

Levi chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated against my back. "Scenic tour?" he murmured, his hands sliding up my sides, his fingers trailing lightly over my ribs. "I was savoring the exquisite view. A view, I might add, that is considerably improved by your enthusiastic participation."

He began to move again, slow, deliberate thrusts that stretched me with each push. But this time, there was a different quality to his movements, a more controlled, almost teasing rhythm that seemed designed to draw out the pleasure, to delay the inevitable release.

"However," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "it seems my appreciation for the scenery has only served to… heighten your impatience. A fascinating development." His thrusts deepened, each one a slow, luxurious slide that made me want to arch into him.

The pleasure was building again. But this time, it was laced with a desperate need for him to just let go.

"Levi," I managed, my voice strained, my fingers gripping the cool glass. "If this is your idea of… payback, it's working. But I won't be the only one suffering if you keep this up." My hips moved involuntarily, a silent plea for him to just fuck me.

Levi chuckled softly, a low rumble that vibrated against my back, sending shivers down my spine. "Payback, my impatient pulla?" he murmured, his teeth nipping gently at my neck. "Perhaps a little re-calibration of expectations. You see, my dear, sometimes the journey is far more rewarding than the destination."

His movements deepened, each thrust a slow, deliberate slide that stretched me exquisitely. He was teasing me, holding back his own release with a masterful control that was both infuriating and incredibly arousing.

"But fear not," he continued, his voice a low caress, his hands now sliding down to grip my hips, tilting me to a more advantageous angle. "I have every intention of reaching that destination… eventually. And when I do," his thrusts grew deeper, more insistent, "you will know."

I could feel the tension building in Levi's body, the subtle tremor in his hands. He was close, I could sense it, but he was deliberately holding back, prolonging the torment.

"Levi," I choked out, my head falling back against his shoulder, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Please… just… fuck me."

Levi’s voice, thick with lust and a hint of dark amusement, rumbled against my ear. "Dear Pulla," he murmured, his grip on my hips tightening, preventing my frantic movements. "Tonight, you will learn the true meaning of restraint.”

His thrusts slowed even further, becoming shallow. I could feel the tension coiling tighter within me, a desperate ache that bordered on pain.

"You will beg, Pulla," he continued, his breath hot against my neck, "and you will receive… precisely what I deem appropriate. And perhaps," his voice dropped to a husky whisper, "you will discover that begging can be its own pleasure."

"Levi," I choked out, my fingers clenching on the cool glass, my body instinctively trying to buck against his control, only to be met with the unyielding pressure of his hands on my hips. "Don't… don't do this."

He chuckled softly, a low, possessive sound that sent shivers down my spine despite my frustration. "But," he murmured, his lips tracing the line of my jaw, "where is the pleasure in immediate gratification? The anticipation, the slow burn… it sharpens the senses, intensifies the eventual reward."

"Beg for it, Pulla," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, his fingers now subtly shifting, pressing against a particularly sensitive spot. "Beg for me to finally give you what you so desperately crave."

My hips strained against his unyielding grip, a silent, desperate plea. "Levi," I choked out, the word laced with a raw need I hadn't intended to reveal.

Instead of continuing to beg, a surge of frustrated desperation coursed through me. My hands, which had been gripping the cool glass of the window, now shifted, my fingers reaching down, blindly seeking the burgeoning hardness straining against the fabric of my trousers.

His grip on my hips tightened even further, effectively pinning my lower body against his. "Ah, ah," he murmured, his lips tracing the shell of my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "Not so fast. Tonight, your pleasure will be dictated by my hand, and my timing."

My fingers brushed against the rigid length beneath the cloth, but his firm hold prevented any meaningful contact.

A frustrated growl rumbled in my chest. My fingers twitched uselessly against the fabric of my trousers, so close to the throbbing hardness that demanded release, yet so frustratingly out of reach.

“Levi,” I bit out, my voice strained. “Let me…”

"Or what, pulla?" he murmured, his breath ghosting over my ear. "After I have shown you such… exquisite restraint?"

"If you insist on taking matters into your own hands," he continued, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous purr, "I may have to employ more… persuasive methods to ensure your compliance. Methods involving silk, perhaps. And a distinct lack of independent movement."

A strangled gasp escaped my lips, the imagined sensation of silk binding my wrists and ankles sending a jolt of heat through my already aching body. My rebellious hand stilled against my trousers, the desire for release warring with a sudden, potent wave of submissive anticipation.

"Levi," I breathed, my voice a husky whisper, the defiance draining away, replaced by a tremor of surrender. The thought of being so completely at his mercy, every touch, every sensation dictated by his will, was... intensely arousing.

"Good," he murmured, his lips nuzzling the sensitive skin of my neck. "It seems you understand the wisdom of patience, pulla."

His thrusts, which had been shallow and teasing, began to deepen, each one a slow, deliberate invasion that stretched me to my limit. The initial discomfort quickly gave way to a sharp, intense pleasure that made me gasp, my back arching involuntarily.

His free hand, which had been resting on my abdomen, now slid lower, his fingers tracing a burning path down to the juncture of my thighs. The subtle pressure there, combined with the increasingly insistent thrusts, sent a jolt of heat through me.

"Levi," I managed, my voice a strained whisper, my fingers digging into the cool glass, my body trembling with the effort to maintain control. "Please… don't stop."

His fingers at the juncture of my thighs pressed deeper, a subtle but insistent pressure that made my hips lift involuntarily. The tension in his body was palpable, the muscles in his back and arms corded with barely suppressed energy. I knew he was close, could sense the tremor that ran through him with each deep thrust.

"Levi," I gasped again, my voice barely audible, the word a raw plea torn from the depths of my escalating desire. "Please… I am so, so close…"

"I know you are," he murmured, his grip on my hips remaining firm, preventing the final, desperate thrust that would surely send me over the edge. "I can feel every frantic clench, every desperate tremor."

He paused, his breath hot against my neck, the silence stretching taut with unfulfilled desire. "But you are quite correct, my dear Pulla. This is, in its own way, a… consequence of your impatience. You never wait for me to fully savor the experience, do you? Always so eager to rush to the peak."

His thrusts, which had been deep and insistent, now slowed again, becoming shallow and teasing, brushing against the precipice without offering the final plunge.

"Tonight," Levi continued, his voice a low, possessive purr, "you will learn the art of waiting. You will linger on the edge, savoring the exquisite frustration, until I deem it time for you to finally… break."

The agonizing nearness of release, only to have it deliberately held back, was a torment unlike any other. My muscles clenched and unclenched around him, a desperate, involuntary plea for him to just fuck me harder.

"Levi," I choked out, my voice hoarse with need and frustration. "Please… this isn't… you're being…"

"Cruel, pulla?" he murmured, his lips tracing the line of my jaw. "Perhaps. But consider it a lesson in shared pleasure. Something you often… overlook in your eagerness."

"Levi," I gasped, my voice hoarse and strained, my body arching against his with a desperate need.

"Patience, pulla," he murmured, his breath hot against my neck.

But the wait was becoming unbearable. The pressure was building, a frantic intensity that threatened to overwhelm me. My vision swam, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Every nerve ending in my body was focused on the exquisite friction, the agonizing nearness of release.

Then, with a sudden, involuntary surge, the dam finally broke. A strangled cry tore from my throat as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over me, my body convulsing around him. It was explosive, leaving me weak and trembling in his arms.

The panoramic window, once a clear vista of the capital night, was now smeared with the evidence of my shattered control.

A soft click of his tongue echoed in the quiet space behind me. "Tch, tch, pulla," he murmured, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and perhaps a hint of… exasperation? "Such a dramatic display. And all over the meticulously cleaned glass."

Despite the teasing tone, his grip on my hips remained firm, a possessive anchor. I could feel his chest vibrating against my back as he chuckled again, a low rumble that sent a fresh wave of warmth through my still-sensitive skin.

"It seems my lesson in restraint was… ultimately unsuccessful in preventing a rather enthusiastic conclusion," he added, his breath warm against my neck. "Though I must admit," he continued, his tone shifting slightly, becoming a shade huskier, "the sheer intensity was… rather impressive. But dear, you will be punished, utterly.”

A shiver traced its way down my spine at the shift in his tone, the playful amusement now laced with a distinct undercurrent of something more… dominant. Despite the lingering haze of my release, a fresh wave of anticipation flickered within me.

"Punished?" I murmured, my voice still slightly shaky, a hint of a challenging smirk playing on my lips. "And how exactly do you intend to… utterly punish me?" I shifted slightly in his arms, just enough to feel the hard length of him still pressed against my backside.

"Oh, my dear Raphael," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear, sending a delicious tremor through me. "The possibilities are… quite extensive. And I assure you," his voice dropped to a low, husky purr, "utterly will be an understatement."

Without another word, Levi’s grip on my hips intensified, his fingers digging in possessively as he shifted his weight, pressing deeper into me with a renewed urgency. His thrusts became deeper, faster, each powerful lunge driving me further into the cool glass of the window.

He didn’t speak, his focus entirely on the rhythmic drive of his body against mine. Each plunge stretched me, filling me completely, the impact against the window a dull thud that punctuated our ragged breathing. The sheer force of his movements sent shock waves of pleasure – and a hint of delicious pain – through me. The promise of utter punishment was being delivered, not with gentle restraint, but with unrestrained passion that threatened to shatter me all over again.

My head lolled back against his shoulder, my vision blurring at the edges as the intensity threatened to overwhelm me. The pleasure was sharp, almost painful in its exquisite intensity, filling me until I thought I might tear apart. My cries became more frantic, less about pleasure and more about the sheer intensity of the pounding I was taking. My body was stretched to its limit, every muscle screaming in protest and pleasure.

Levi's breathing was ragged now, matching my own desperate gasps. I could feel the sweat slicking his skin, the tremor that ran through his powerful frame as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge.

Just when I thought I couldn't take any more, his thrusts became even deeper, each one hitting a spot that sent jolts of pure, raw sensation through me. My own release, so intense moments before, felt like a distant memory compared to the overwhelming force of his relentless fucking.

Then, with a guttural roar that echoed in the small space, his body went rigid. I felt the unmistakable pulsing within me as he finally let go. He held me tightly against him, his chest heaving, his heart pounding against my back as we both rode out the final, earth-shattering waves of his orgasm.

The tremors of Levi's climax slowly subsided, leaving us both panting and slick with sweat.

His grip on my hips gradually loosened, though he didn't withdraw completely. I could feel the slow ebb and flow of his breathing against my skin, the lingering heat of his body pressed against mine.

After a long moment, he finally began to pull back, the slow separation drawing a soft groan from my lips. The air suddenly felt cooler against my overheated skin. He turned me in his arms, his gaze intense as he looked down at me, his chest still heaving. A faint smirk played on his lips, a hint of the earlier dominance returning.

"Utterly punished, pulla?" he murmured, his voice still rough with exertion. His fingers traced a line down my cheek, leaving a damp trail. "Or perhaps… thoroughly sated?"

A slow smile spread across my face, despite the lingering ache in my stretched muscles. "Sated, yes," I conceded, my voice still husky. "But punished? Not nearly enough." I reached up, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw, mirroring his touch. "You'll have to try harder than that."

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to my lips. "Oh, Raphael," he murmured, his breath warm against my mouth. "Consider that merely the opening act."

He pulled back slightly, his gaze dropping to my body before returning to mine. With a deliberate movement, he reached for another condom. As he sheathed himself once more, his eyes never leaving mine, he spoke, his voice a low purr.

"Indeed. And since your recent… unfortunate incident has limited our usual repertoire," he said, his gaze flicking briefly to my shoulder before returning to mine, "we will explore other avenues of… utter punishment. There are few other ideas I have been… cultivating." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "If it becomes too much, pulla, a simple tap. Twice on my shoulder. Though I suspect," he added, a knowing smirk playing on his lips, "you will endure far more than you think."

Levi's hands, which had been resting on my hips, now moved, gently but firmly turning me to face him.

His fingers traced the line of my jaw, his thumb gently stroking my lower lip. "Breath, pulla," he murmured, his voice a low caress. "Such a vital thing. And so easily… regulated. Tonight, I will decide how much of it you receive. When you receive it." His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back to my eyes, holding them captive.

Without breaking eye contact, Levi’s hands slid from my jaw down my neck, his thumbs gently caressing my throat. He then moved with a fluid grace, his arms scooping me up from the floor. I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, my hands finding purchase on his shoulders.

He carried me effortlessly towards the nearby couch, his eyes never leaving mine. He lowered me onto the soft cushions, positioning me so that I was still facing him, my back against the armrest. He knelt before me, his hands resting on my thighs, his gaze unwavering. "Ready, Pulla?" he murmured, his voice a low, seductive invitation. I nodded, my breath catching in my throat.