“Gods, you’re warm. This is exactly what I needed… and then some more,” I said, nuzzling deeper into his chest, inhaling the faint scent of his skin.

“Pulla,” he murmured softly. His arm tightened around me, pulling me impossibly closer into his warmth. “We recently made a wager, because you were exhausted. And we ended that wager yesterday by my very obvious triumph, did we not? Do you, under these current circumstances, truly wish to engage in sexual activity now? Are you sure, dear?”

Exhaustion? What exhaustion? The only thing I'm exhausted from is not having him.

“Yeah, I want you, I am horny,” I said, and pressed my naked crotch more firmly against his thigh.

“I can see that, dear. But what I am asking was regarding the immediate coldness.”

To prove his point, he lifted the covers for a chilling current of the air to fling right into our warm cocoon. The abrupt cold made me suck in a sharp breath.

“You’re lucky you’re so warm, Levi, or I’d actually be mad right now,” I grumbled, but the words were softened by the renewed nuzzle into his chest. I pressed my naked crotch firmly against his thigh again, reminding him that while he might impale me with his glorious dick all the time, my dick could certainly return the favor.

“Alright, my dear.”

He pushed himself off the covers, a movement so swift it barely registered, but it was enough for the air to fling itself. I shivered, a small protest escaping my lips, but he was already reaching to the bedside drawer.

Levi's hand, found my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. His lips, soft and warm from the shared heat of the covers, found mine in a deep, consuming kiss.

My own hand, moved to grip the strong curve of his back, pulling him even closer, if that were possible. He shifted above me, and the hand on my jaw moved, sliding down my neck, then tracing a path over my collarbone before dipping beneath the heavy covers. The bottle pressed briefly against my skin as he positioned it, then his fingers, warm and knowing, began to spread me.

A soft groan escaped my throat as his fingers gently pushed past the initial resistance. It was a teasing engagement with the threshold that had me arching into him, my hips lifting off the mattress to meet the pressure. One finger, then two, then three, each digit unhurried.

“I like your fingers… so much,” I said, my voice thick and breathless, grinding my hips against his hand.

Levi leaned down. “Oh? Would my dear be content with… just fingers?”

“No,” I stammered, feeling a blush creeping up my face.

“Say it, dear,” he purred again, his breath warm against my ear as his teeth grazed my earlobe, sending a fresh shiver down my spine. His fingers pressed firmly against my sweet spot, making me buck against his hand.

“Gods… Please, I want… your,” I gasped, the words catching in my throat.

“What exactly?” he purred again, his fingers never faltering. I could feel my stomach clench, not from pleasure but from embarrassment. Fuck!

The words are right on the tip of my tongue, but they feel like a foreign language. It's because of him. The memory of his disgust, that cool, flat stare, it's like he reached into my brain and surgically removed the part that knows how to talk dirty. He made me hate it, too. The bastard. He took something so simple and with nothing but his disdain, he rewired me.

“I want you inside me,” I managed, the words mostly a whisper.

“Good boy,” Levi hummed. He lifted his chest off of me, momentarily breaking the delicious pressure, only to anchor himself between my legs, his hips settling perfectly against mine.

His gaze dropped to my parted lips, then to my eyes, holding me captive. With a slow press, the blunt head of his dick nudged against my entrance. A small whimper escaped my throat as I felt the stretch. He leaned in, his hips pressing closer, and then, with a low groan that vibrated against my earlobe, he slid inside me a smooth glide that filled me completely. He paused, letting me adjust, letting the shock of his entry settle into pleasure. My hands gripped his back, nails digging lightly into the taut muscles, pulling him closer, anchoring him deeper still.

Levi began to move, but not in the rhythm I expected. His hands became a pivot as he gently, fluidly rolled me over onto my stomach. The heavy covers shifted, momentarily exposing us to the cooler air before settling back, cocooning us once more. He adjusted, rising slightly then settling back down, his weight pressing into my back, pinning me deliciously to the mattress. The change in angle was immediate and intense, driving him even deeper as he pressed against me from behind, fully impaling me. I gasped, arching my back, my fingers finding purchase in the sheets as a new wave of sensation washed over me.

Each thrust was an encompassing press that made my toes curl. I moaned into the pillow, the sound muffled but vibrating through the mattress. His hands braced on either side of my head, or perhaps gripping the pillow beneath me, kept his weight from crushing me. I pushed back, my hips rising to meet his, desperate for more, for faster, for deeper, utterly lost in the demanding rhythm.

He drove into me with powerful, consuming strokes, pushing me to my very limits, then retreating just enough to let the exquisite pressure build again. My breath came in ragged gasps, catching in my throat as I clung to the sheets, utterly lost in the rhythm. I could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within me, a delicious agony that begged for release, yet I wanted it to last forever.

A keening sound was trying to escape my throat, but I bit it back, desperate to prolong the agony and the pleasure. Every muscle in my body was taut, trembling on the precipice.

Levi's head dropping to my shoulder. I felt the sharp intake of his breath. Then a searing pain as his teeth sank into my shoulder, a bite that ripped a ragged cry from my lips. The pain was the final trigger. My body convulsed around him, muscles seizing in a shattering orgasm that ripped through me like lightning. I screamed into the pillow, as waves of explosive pleasure crashed over me.

The bite mark on my shoulder throbbed. My breathing was ragged, harsh gasps tearing in and out of my lungs as my body slowly uncurled from its spasm.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“L-Levi,” I breathed, trying to twist my head to look at his face.

He, who was still inside me and perfectly still, murmured softly, “Yes, dear.”

“I… I want to, see your face,” I mumbled. One of his hands, which had been resting on the pillow next to my head, began to stroke my hair strands. “Sure, Pulla. Take a deep breath for me.” He slowly slid himself out of me.

I rolled on my hips, my legs parting, spreading myself open for him again, eager for his return. But there was a glint in his eyes. Fuck.

I knew that look.

He said nothing, but a smirk touched his lips. He placed his warm hands on my trembling thighs, and crossed my legs, scissoring them tightly together.

Levi pushed his hips. It was a re-entry, met with a delicious, painful resistance. I could feel every inch of him. The fullness was beyond anything I’d felt before.

“This is… insane, it’s… too much,” I breathed out, the words catching in my raw throat. My hips began to tremor. Every nerve ending in my core felt stretched to the brink of tearing, a searing, beautiful agony that threatened to snap something.

“It will be alright, dear,” he said, completely unperturbed. He didn't move, but a relentless pressure built from his hips, pushing, pushing, pushing him further, deeper.

Easy for him to say. He wasn't the one inverted, trapped like a flipped tortoise, shell-up, utterly helpless, simultaneously skewered by that magnificent column of flesh.

“It’s… overwhelming,” I choked out.

“Does it hurt, dear?” he asked, completely without urgency.

“N-no,” I gasped. It wasn't pain; it was the kind of stretching, demanding agony that blended so seamlessly with pleasure it became indistinguishable.

“You can stop crossing your legs if it becomes too much.” His hips remained unmoving against mine. “But I will be gentle.”

I knew he was just waiting for me to decide if this level of torment was something I could endure, or if I needed a moment of respite before the next wave.

I didn't move. My legs remained tightly scissored, my body trembling with the effort and the pleasure of it all. I wanted to scream, to beg him to either stop the delicious torture or finally drive me over the edge. Instead, I just gritted my teeth, my hips pressing back into him, wordlessly telling him that I could, and would, take more.

He began to move again, slow at first, then building in speed and power. Each thrust was stretching me further, hitting a depth that made my vision swim.

“I can’t…” I whispereed between my clenched teeth, my teeth aching from the tension. Suddenly, Levi’s slender fingers were there, prying my jaw open. “Do not hold your breath, dear,” he said, and he pushed my lower jaw. “You can bite me, if you want me to stop.”

Levi, calm as a spring morning, is making sure I don't pass out from pleasure. As if I want this to stop. It's too much, it's agonizing, it's perfect. Every fiber of my being is screaming for more, for this to never end, even as my body feels like it's being stretched to its absolute breaking point. I can't bite him. I can't speak. All I can do is take this, let him drive me to oblivion again.

Just as I thought I would shatter, Levi’s head dipped again to my shoulder. I felt the sharp intake of his breath. His teeth sank into the already throbbing skin, ripping a strangled cry from my throat. The pain exploded into incandescent pleasure. I screamed, the sound muffled by his hand.

His hips slammed into me one last time. I felt the demanding stretch as he began to withdraw. Then a sudden rush of warmth against my lower stomach. His weight settled fully onto my back, his breath coming in ragged gasps against my ear as he shuddered.

The last echoes of pleasure rippled through me, slowly fading into a blissful, heavy ache. His heartbeat thrummed against my back, slowly returning to a steady rhythm.

After I could form a coherent thought, the question tumbled out. “Why… the stomach?”

He was nuzzling into my shoulder, his face resting there, his breath warm and even. “I did not want to go and take a shower immediately,” he murmured.

Of course. That was it. Not some deep, symbolic reason. Just practicality, utterly devoid of any romantic fluff.

“You know… I appreciate that. I don’t think I could go to shower even if you carried me,” I said. My entire body felt heavy and deliciously sated. Also, we spent hours in the hot tub, my entire body soaked so much water, my fingertips are still pruned. It was a good choice. Levi simply nodded on my shoulder.

After we both relaxed into the quiet warmth, Levi reached to the bedside table again. His hand emerged with a small pack of wet wipes. He opened the pack, then began to clean me, first my stomach, then my crotch, wiping away the evidence. Yes. I was so glad we'd returned to our usual aftercare dynamic.

When he was done cleaning me, he neatly folded the wet wipes and placed them back in the packet. He settled comfortably to my backside again, spooning me close, his arm wrapping securely around my waist.

“Dear,” he said softly to my ear, his voice a low, even murmur that was almost a whisper, “I will depart early tomorrow. My return may be late. Do not await my presence for the evening meal.”

“Mmhhh…” I mumbled, already drifting. The shift to his work schedule barely registered through the haze of contentment. “Is something wrong?”

“No. The Moon Festival is approaching. Consequently, my employees will conduct a holiday dinner, and my attendance was repeatedly requested.”

“Dinner…”

“A celebratory gathering, given the decision to secure an external venue, however, its primary function remains the consumption of an evening meal,” he clarified, his voice still that even drone.

The fuck was Moon Festival? Mmh… Wait. Ah, Ascarian traditions… Since the fall was coming, they had a holiday of sorts. Not a national one but a cultural one. Practically the spring festival but for fall, marking the harvest and the changing season. It was all coming back to me now, a hazy memory from some long-ago conversation.

“Do you want me… to come,” I mumbled, eyes still closed, half-asleep, half-asking.

“I would not wish to inconvenience your rest, given the density of attendees. You may, however, attend should you possess the desire to do so.”

“You just... really don’t want to go, do you?”

“No. I attended one years ago. It is merely a conglomeration of individuals who do not, in fact, enjoy each other’s company. They exert pressure to appear agreeable in my presence. There are also excessive quantities of beer and other intoxicants.”

“Yeah? Try not to hurt your employees with your misanthropy,” I said, a sleepy grin touching my lips against the pillow.

“Ugh,” he groaned. “I will be greeting around hundreds of employees, and I utilize my Saint persona within the company. Therefore, forced niceness, cultivated kindness, benevolent employer…” He paused, and I could practically hear him sorting through the mental inventory of expected social performances. “All while I will be pressured into consuming alcohol. At least I could avoid the dinner itself.”

“Shit,” I breathed out, the thought cutting through my sleep-addled bliss with a jolt. “You know you start to rip your clothes off when you get tipsy, right? Don’t do that in front of your employees.”

“I assume Holden and Annie would carry me to the hotel room before I engage in such behavior,” he said, his voice calm as ever. “But, good point. I might need to consume multiple hangover pills prior to entering the venue.”

I just smiled, already half-asleep, nestled in the warmth of his embrace.