Was he truly just retreating to his study? Or was this abrupt departure something more… final?

A surge of panic propelled me from the bed. I didn't even bother to dress properly, just grabbing the nearest robe as I rushed out of the room and down the hall towards his study. My frantic pounding on the heavy steel door echoed through the silent house, each bang a desperate plea.

This wasn't just a room; it was a fortress. The multiple lock mechanisms, the unyielding steel – they all screamed of impenetrable isolation.

"Levi!" I called out, my voice strained with urgency. "Levi, open the door!"

The silence that followed my frantic pounding was deafening. The heavy steel door remained stubbornly shut, an unyielding barrier against my growing fear. "Levi!" I called again, my voice cracking with a desperate urgency.

The door finally creaked open. Levi pried the door, his expression a mixture of annoyance and something akin to weary resignation. "Raphael," he said, his voice surprisingly calm against the frantic pounding of my heart, "calm down."

He kept the door only narrowly ajar, just enough to speak through. I could only catch a glimpse of the room beyond. Beyond the sliver of mahogany and the spines of aged books, my eyes caught stacks upon stacks of boxes. Cardboard, mostly, filled to overflowing with what looked like labeled documents. They lined the walls, reaching towards the high ceiling.

"Levi," I pleaded softly, my voice still trembling slightly from the earlier panic, "you can't just say 'calm down' and retreat into your fortress. Come on." I reached out a hand towards the narrow opening of the door. "Let's go have some breakfast. I'll even try to make you a milkshake." I attempted a weak smile.

Levi’s voice, though still calm, held a firm edge. "Raphael," he said, his gaze unwavering through the narrow opening, "your behavior is truly melodramatic. If you do not remember, just an hour ago, a rather large syringe was directly injected into my… and drained of blood. I lost my control for a second. It was a badly timed joke. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Through the narrow opening, I searched Levi's face, my heart aching with a fear I couldn't fully articulate. "Okay, Levi," I said softly, my voice barely above whisper. "Just... please don't hurt yourself."

I slowly backed away from the heavy steel door, my gaze fixed on the narrow sliver that remained visible. With a soft thud, the door finally closed, the multiple locks clicking into place.

…

A week drifted by, each day feeling subtly off-kilter. Levi became a fleeting presence at home, his days consumed by meetings at his office. Apparently, a delegation of envoys had arrived to discuss significant reforms to the education system, demanding his full attention. When he did return late in the evenings, the guarded distance I had briefly sensed had vanished. He was himself again – affectionate, present. Yet, a subtle air of preoccupation seemed to cling to him.

Then, the long-awaited news arrived, a beacon of excitement cutting through the subdued rhythm of the week. My film, a project that had consumed weeks of my life – the endless takes, the painstaking re shoots, the agonizing wait for post-production – was finally ready for its first screening. This initial viewing was exclusively for the entertainment industry. As the lead actor, my attendance was mandatory. My first instinct was to share this momentous occasion with Levi. I immediately texted him the date and location, a hopeful anticipation blossoming within me.

He replied a few hours later with a simple: "Understood. I'll adjust my schedule accordingly." It wasn't overflowing with emotion, but it was Levi. Practical, dependable. I sent him the details.

This was it. My first real step into the world of cinema. And I would have Levi there to witness it.

The day of the screening arrived, a whirlwind of nervous energy and quiet excitement. Getting ready felt surreal, every small decision – what to wear, how to style my hair – magnified by the significance of the evening. As the time drew closer, I kept glancing at my phone. Levi hadn't mentioned any delays, but the envoy meetings had seemed particularly demanding all week.

The venue was abuzz with the low hum of industry chatter, familiar faces and unfamiliar ones mingling with an air of anticipation. I navigated the crowded space, a polite smile plastered on my face as I exchanged greetings and endured the inevitable questions about the film. But a part of me remained tethered to the entrance, my gaze scanning the arriving guests.

The lights dimmed, a hush falling over the room. My heart pounded in my chest as the opening credits began to roll, the culmination of so much hard work unfolding on the big screen. The next two hours were a blur, a strange mix of intense focus on the story and a detached awareness of the audience's reactions.

When the lights finally came up, a wave of applause filled the theater. Polite, appreciative. People began to approach me, offering congratulations, asking questions. I answered them all, my mind still slightly lost in the world of Aethelgard and Aerion's struggles. But midst the well-wishers, one face was conspicuously absent. Levi wasn't there. A small pang of disappointment, sharp pierced through the lingering adrenaline of the screening.

No. No. I couldn't be angry. Not truly. He was immersed in something significant, something that held the potential to shape the future. How could I begrudge him that commitment, that weight of responsibility?

Pushing the thought of his absence aside, I made my way to the designated smoking area. The open space was filled with a similar post-screening energy, a mix of excited chatter and relaxed camaraderie. Several familiar faces spotted me and offered their congratulations, their words of praise a welcome distraction from the small ache in my chest.

The rest of the evening passed in a similar vein – a mix of genuine congratulations from colleagues and friends, and the more veiled, probing questions from others eager for a story.

By the time the after-party started to wind down, a weariness had settled over me that went beyond mere exhaustion. The thrill of the screening was still there, a warm ember glowing beneath the surface, but it was tinged with a sense of incompleteness. I found myself lingering near the exit, a silent hope flickering that Levi might still appear.

Just as I was about to give up and head back to our quiet home, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway. Levi. He looked slightly disheveled, his tie loosened, his hair a little windswept, but his eyes, when they found mine, held a warmth that chased away the lingering chill of the evening.

"Raphael," he said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the remaining chatter. A small, genuine smile touched his lips. "Forgive my tardiness. These democratic reforms, it seems, are rather insistent." He crossed the room towards me, his gaze never leaving mine.

I didn't hesitate. I practically launched myself into his arms, holding him tightly in the bustling room. "You will pay for this, Levi," I murmured into his chest.

A low chuckle rumbled in Levi's chest as he held me close in the crowded room. "Oh?" he murmured, his arms tightening around me. "And what form of exquisite torture do you have in mind, dear Raphael?" His voice held a familiar teasing note. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "I truly am sorry I missed the screening. These reforms... they demanded my immediate and unwavering attention. But tell me everything. Was it magnificent?"

"It was even better than I expected," I admitted, the pride swelling in my chest. "The screening went really well. My agency was even talking about... well, they called it a 'victory lap.' Awards buzz, potential nominations... it seems people genuinely connected with Aerion's story.”

Levi took my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine, and squeezed it gently. "That's wonderful news, Raphael. Truly. All those long days and nights... it's fantastic to see it all come to fruition." His gaze held mine, a quiet sincerity radiating from his eyes in the bustling room. "I'm incredibly proud of you," he added, the words carrying a weight of genuine emotion that resonated deeply within me.

A soft smile touched my lips as I met Levi's warm gaze. The buzz of the crowd, the lingering scent of perfume and spilled drinks, suddenly felt less appealing than our home. "Let's get out of here, shall we?" I suggested, my hand tightening slightly in his. The thought of sharing the details of the evening, and perhaps something more, in the peaceful sanctuary of our home was suddenly the only thing I truly desired.

…

Getting good reactions, reviews, critiques, and having Levi created an ecstatic state of emotions. The moment we entered the house I practically pounced on him.

His hands instinctively found my waist, pulling me closer. "And here I thought you were exhausted," he murmured against my hair, his voice thick with amusement and a hint of desire. "Clearly, I underestimated the power of a successful premiere."

“You have no idea about how I am feeling right now,” I confessed, my voice a low, husky murmur, thick with a mix of exhaustion and exhilarating pride. My hands, now tangled in his loosened tie, pulled him closer, the fervent kisses I pressed to his lips and neck. “Like I can basically jerk off to my own reflection.” I tilted my head back slightly, a breathless, genuine laugh escaping me.

He tilted his head back slightly, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, I have a rather vivid imagination, my dear Raphael. But by all means, elaborate on this... potent self-admiration." His hands tightened their hold on my waist, a clear invitation for me to continue my enthusiastic celebration.

My own gaze dropped to the undone buttons of his shirt, my hands moving without conscious thought to take over the task. "Tell me about your day," I murmured, my voice a low, husky suggestion, my fingers working at the buttons. "While I take your clothes off."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"My day," Levi began, his voice a low murmur. "It was... a whirlwind of bureaucratic negotiations and surprisingly passionate debates about curriculum structures." He paused, a wry smile touching his lips as I tugged his shirt free. "Apparently, the Ascarian approach to history is considered 'too... enthusiastic' by some of the more traditional envoys." He chuckled softly as I moved to his belt. "There was also a rather tense discussion about the merits of mandatory painting in the art colleges." He leaned back slightly as I began to unfasten it. "All in all, a day filled with the delicate dance of diplomacy and the fervent defense of... well, you, in a way." He finished speaking as his trousers pooled at his feet.

“Fuck, Cyrusians. They are all supremacist.” I said while gently nibbling on his neck.

A low growl rumbled in Levi's chest as my teeth grazed his skin. "Careful, my dear," he murmured, his hands finding my hair. "Such inflammatory statements might get you exiled from the very land your husband is attempting to... democratize." He chuckled softly, a hint of amusement lacing his tone despite the rising tension between us. "But yes," he conceded, his voice deepening, "dealing with certain factions can feel rather... reminiscent of a particularly stubborn Ascarian noble clinging to outdated traditions." He tilted his head back, giving me more access. "Tell me more about this 'enthusiastic' Cyrusian history... while you continue your... thorough deconstruction of my attire."

“I told you before,” I murmured, my words muffled, my hands sliding further up his thighs, kneading the hard muscles. “Since Ascaria is small, Cyrusians believe that, Ascaria is beneath them. They are very traditionalist, and racist, and homophobic. Me, a son of Cyrusia, sucking an Ascarian noble’s dick?” I met his gaze, my eyes dark with a mix of defiance and desire. "They would say it would make my ancestors weep.”

A sigh, laced with a familiar weariness, escaped Levi as he tilted his head back further, his eyes closing. "Indeed," he murmured, his voice thick with a mixture of resignation and something akin to defiance. "That particular brand of... unenlightened thinking is unfortunately not unique to Cyrusia. Tradition, when wielded as a weapon, can be remarkably effective at stifling progress and perpetuating prejudice." His hands tightened in my hair. "Let your ancestors weep, then," he added, his voice gaining a low, possessive edge. "Their loss is my considerable gain."

A shudder ran through Levi's body as my tongue traced the length of him, the soft rasp against his skin eliciting a low groan that vibrated against my lips. His hands tightened in my hair, a silent encouragement as I paid homage to the part of him that was so intimately mine.

The silk of his skin was warm beneath my lips. I savored the taste of him, the unique scent that was intrinsically Levi, a heady mix that always sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine. My hands roamed his thighs, feeling the flex of muscle beneath my fingertips as I continued my slow, deliberate exploration. Each flick of my tongue, each gentle tug, drew a deeper sound from him, a symphony of rising desire that echoed in the quiet of our home.

He shifted slightly, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as my attention focused lower. The anticipation in the air was almost a tangible thing, a heavy weight pressing down on us. I could feel the frantic pulse beneath my lips, a wild rhythm that mirrored the frantic beating of my own heart.

As my ministrations grew bolder, his control began to fray. His fingers tightened in my hair, a silent plea mingling with a low growl that rumbled deep in his chest.

The velvety head, slick with anticipation, pressed against my lips, and I took him fully into my mouth, the deep, guttural sound that escaped him sending a jolt of pure pleasure through me. My hands slid further up his thighs, kneading the hard muscles as I moved my head, savoring the fullness of him.

His breath hitched, his fingers tangling more tightly in my hair, tilting my head to deepen the connection. The rhythm between us intensified, a primal dance of give and take, need and fulfillment. I could feel the tension coiling within him, the barely leashed control threatening to snap. Each stroke of my tongue, each press of my lips, brought him closer to the edge, and the knowledge of that power thrummed through me. A low moan escaped his lips, a raw, unrestrained sound that echoed in the stillness of the room. His hips arched slightly, a silent plea for more.

His hands released my hair, instead gripping my shoulders, his fingers digging in slightly as his hips began to move with a more urgent rhythm. The low growls intensified, punctuated by sharp intakes of breath. I could feel the frantic pulse against my tongue, a wild drumbeat signaling his imminent release.

I deepened my ministrations, wanting to draw every last drop of pleasure from him. The taste of him intensified, filling my senses as his movements became more frantic, his body arching off the floor. A strangled cry tore from his throat, a raw, primal sound that resonated deep within me as his release finally shuddered through him, a series of powerful tremors that wracked his entire body.

Slowly, his grip on my shoulders loosened, replaced by a gentle caress as he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.

The sheer volume of his release took us both by surprise. It was thick and creamy, coating my mouth, slicking my knees where they pressed against the floor, and even leaving glistening trails on the polished wood. I spat out a bit, a reflexive action to clear my airway.

Levi, still breathing heavily, reached for a tissue box on the nearby table, his cheeks slightly flushed, a faint sheen of sweat on his skin. "Ah..." he murmured, his voice still thick and a little hoarse with the aftermath of passion. "Accept my apologies. It has been a really long time." He offered me a tissue, his fingers brushing mine.

I took the offered tissue, wiping my mouth and hands, a wry smile playing on my lips. "Don't remind me of that whole syringe thing," I said, the memory still carrying a faint unpleasantness, a slight shudder running through me. "I'm just glad you finally released this... poison."

“My apologies for the... deluge. Clearly, the pressure had been building. Consider it a testament to your irresistible charms. Perhaps next time I won't wait for a near-death experience to indulge,” he replied, a hint of dry wit returning to his voice.

"What near-death experience?" I echoed, my brow furrowing in confusion.

Levi sighed, running a hand through his still-disheveled hair, pushing the dark strands from his forehead. "Raphael," he said, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation, a familiar tone of 'explaining to the less informed.' "It was hours of constant erection. Four hours mean... potential blood clots. It's not exactly a comfortable or healthy state to maintain."

“Shit. Really? I didn’t know that,” I muttered, my eyes widening slightly.

"Yes, Raphael, really. While your enthusiastic ministrations were certainly... appreciated," a small, genuine smile flickered across his lips, softening his features, "prolonged engorgement without release can lead to some rather unpleasant complications." He reached out, his hand gentle as he cupped my cheek. "But all's well that ends well, wouldn't you say?" His thumb brushed lightly across my skin.

“I will never forget that image of your dick getting stabbed by a needle, Levi,” I stated, a slight shiver running through me.

"Ah, Pulla," he purred, the sound a low, satisfied rumble in his chest, a clear sign of his return to playful teasing. "For me, it was a singular

experience. The best minute of my life, you say? Perhaps. Imagine, if you will: the universe, momentarily reversing its relentless expansion, all focused on that single, exquisite point of withdrawal. A reverse orgasm. A temporary inversion of pleasure and pain, a fleeting glimpse into the void... I have many other analogies, each more unsettlingly poetic than the last."

“How can… I… imagine that? Reverse suction of the universe, you mean?”

“I can only hope you never feel that pain, pulla.”

…

After Levi’s rather poetic analogies about his getting dick stabbed and drained by a needle, we went to bedroom.

What a bizarre life we lead.

Levi basically launched himself on the bed. "Ah," he murmured, his eyes already half-closed with exhaustion. "That was a rather tiring week indeed. Allow me to indulge myself... in some much-needed rest." He reached out, his fingers wrapping around my arm, and gently tugged me towards the bed.

A furrow creased my brow as I looked down at Levi sprawled on the bed. "Are you that tired?" I asked, a genuine note of concern in my voice.

He gave a weary sigh, his eyes fluttering open just enough to meet mine. "I am exhausted, pulla, not in the way one feels after physical exertion, but... a deeper weariness. The constant negotiations, the endless debates... it drains one in a way that sleep alone doesn't quite remedy." He crooked a finger, beckoning me closer to the bed. "Help your husband, pulla? Will you?"

I settled onto the edge of the bed, my concern for Levi outweighing my curiosity for the moment. "I actually have a question about your 'work'," I began softly, my gaze searching his tired features. "What exactly is your title? Officially?"

He sighed again, a hint of his usual wryness returning despite his exhaustion. "I don't have one, pulla," he murmured, his eyes drifting closed again. "There is simply no need."

"But... how does it work?" I persisted gently, still a little bewildered. "Don't you need some kind of official designation? For paperwork, for protocols, for... well, for people to know who to listen to?"

Levi finally opened his eyes again, a thoughtful expression replacing the weariness. "What is the point of a title?" he countered softly, his gaze meeting mine. "To grant power? To remind people around you to respect you, not for being who you are, but for your rank? I simply do not need one. Everyone knows who I am, what I am." A faint smile touched his lips. "What if the government doesn't give me a salary, or a title, or a formal position? I am the very fabric of this country, in a way. My influence, my connections... they run deeper than any official decree. Who cares about a title when you wield a certain... inherent authority? I know I do not."

"I can't tell whether you are being humble or arrogant," I said, a soft, weary smile touching my lips. "But your logic was hard to argue with.”

A low chuckle rumbled in Levi's chest, a sound that was both weary and amused. "Perhaps a bit of both," he murmured, his eyes drifting closed again. "It's a fine line, isn't it? The truth often is. But I assure you, it's not about personal grandstanding. It's simply... the way things are. Power doesn't always need a name tag." He sighed contentedly, his breathing becoming deeper and more even. "Now, come here. All this talk of titles is rather exhausting. Let's embrace the blissful lack thereof and simply... be." He shifted slightly, making room for me beside him.

"Who am I to say no to you? Hm?" I murmured, the words a soft, teasing concession. I let my body relax, a soft sigh escaping me as I settled beside him, my head resting on his shoulder.

A soft smile played on Levi's lips, his eyes still closed. "Indeed, pulla," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness. "Who are you to deny your exhausted husband a bit of... companionship?" He reached out a hand, his fingers finding mine and squeezing gently. His breathing deepened, and soon, the only sound in the room was the gentle rhythm of his sleep.

Which made me realize how I never saw him asleep before. In all our time together, through passionate nights and busy mornings, midst political storms and artistic triumphs, I had never truly seen Levi asleep. He was always awake, always alert, always the composed and formidable presence that commanded attention.

The soft rasp of my thumb against his cheek seemed to stir him slightly. His brow furrowed in his sleep, and he mumbled a soft, incoherent sound.

"Hey, Levi," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the quiet darkness. "Why did you do all of this?"

A long pause followed, filled only with the sound of his breathing. Then, a low, sleep-laden murmur escaped his lips. "Hm... Hm... For fun."

A soft chuckle escaped me, despite the underlying seriousness of my question. "Yeah, you bastard," I murmured affectionately, leaning closer and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. “You are finally honest.”