𝓛𝓮𝓿𝓲

“You don’t intend on dying, period,” you corrected, walking over and gently pulling his cravat tighter around his neck. “Besides, you’ve got someone to come back to now.”

Levi’s eyes flickered up to meet yours. That intensity—the one only you ever got to see soften.

“I don’t need a reminder,” he said lowly.

You didn’t break eye contact. Instead, your fingers trailed from his cravat up to his cheek. His hands instinctively found your waist, steadying you, grounding both of you in that rare and quiet intimacy that existed only behind closed doors.

He glanced at you sideways. “What are you doing?”

“This,” you whispered, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

He sighed, as if he were already exhausted by your antics—but you didn’t miss the way his fingers flexed at his side.

“Are we really doing this right now?”

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, lips grazing his jaw. “Before you go risking your life, I think you deserve a proper goodbye.”

Another kiss—lower this time, brushing the underside of his jaw.

Then one near his ear.

Then one just above his collarbone.

He shifted slightly, but still didn’t stop you. Maybe he didn’t want to.

“Don’t get carried away,” he muttered.

“You love it.”

“You’re leaving marks.”

You leaned in and said sweetly, “I'm not.”

Another kiss, slow and possessive, right at the side of his throat.

Levi let out a breath through his nose and fastened his cravat lazily over it. “You done?”

You tapped your chin in thought, then kissed his mouth once—quick and warm.

“Now I’m done.”

He adjusted his jacket, grabbed his gloves—but didn’t notice the trail of lipstick evidence decorating his pale skin.

You, of course, stayed completely quiet.

As he stepped toward the door, he glanced at you once more, his tone softer now.

“Try not to miss me too much.”

You gave a slow, coy smile. “Too late.”

---

The morning chill hadn’t yet burned off. The squad stood in a loose circle near the horses, the kind of barely-coordinated gathering that usually only happened when Levi hadn’t arrived yet.

Eren was yawning. Jean was pacing. Mikasa was already fully prepared and silently judging everyone else.

“Where the hell is he?” Jean muttered, shifting his weight. “Captain’s never late.”

“Maybe he’s sick,” Connie said, brows raised. “Or like, sleeping in.”

“Maybe a Titan ate him,” Sasha added helpfully, chewing on a hunk of bread.

Mikasa didn’t say anything, but her eyes were on the HQ building like a hawk.

Then—footsteps.

Levi emerged from HQ, striding toward them with his usual quiet confidence. Scouts jacket. Bladed gear. Blank expression. Standard-issue everything—

Except the very obvious lipstick mark on his left cheek.

And the one half-hidden under his jawline.

And the faint pink blur at the base of his neck, slightly covered by his scarf but still peeking out.

He didn’t notice.

But they did.

Hange blinked once.

Sasha choked on her bite.

Armin visibly froze, as if trying to compute a math equation that broke physics.

Jean stepped back like he’d seen a ghost.

“...What the fuck is that?” Jean muttered. “Does anyone else—? Am I losing it?”

“Wait—waitwaitwait,” Connie gasped, grabbing Armin’s arm. “Look at his face. Look at his face.”

“I am looking at his face,” Armin whispered. “There’s lipstick. There’s definitely lipstick.”

One mark near the edge of his jawline.

Another just under his ear.

A third on the side of his neck.

A faint smear on his collarbone, barely hidden by the cravat.

Hange turned, took one look at Levi, and let out a loud, delighted cackle. “HOLY SHIT.”

“Are those—?” Sasha started.

“Lipstick,” Mikasa confirmed, arms crossed.

Jean took a step back like he’d seen a ghost. “Who the hell kissed Levi Ackerman?”

Eren squinted. “That… that can’t be real. That’s Levi. He doesn’t—he doesn’t do kissing.”

“LOOK AT HIS FACE!” Jean barked, pointing. “Someone full-on made out with him before he got here!”

Moblit looked like he was glitching. “Did we enter a parallel universe?”

Levi stopped walking. His expression was blank, jaw tight, but he could feel all eight of them staring holes through him.

He considered just mounting his horse and leaving without a word.

But no.

Too late now.

“What,” he said flatly, “are you all gawking at?”

“Captain,” Armin started delicately, “you… seem to be wearing… um…”

“Several very vibrant statements of affection,” Hange supplied. “In Rich Rosewood. Excellent shade, by the way.”

Levi glared. “Tch. It’s none of your business.”

“You’re covered in it,” Sasha said, voice an octave too high. “It’s everybody’s business now.”

“You’ve got kisses all over your damn face,” eren said, incredulous.

Levi frowned. “I do not.”

Mikasa reached into her pocket and whipped out a tiny compact mirror. “Check the evidence, sir.”

He looked into it.

Pause.

A longer pause.

His expression didn’t change—but his eyes did.

“…Shit.”

Connie exploded. “WHO KISSED YOU?!”

“No way this was just one kiss,” Sasha breathed. “This was like—a storm.”

Armin looked genuinely distressed. “Captain, are you in a relationship? Like—a real one?”

Hange’s grin stretched ear to ear. “Oh my god, it makes so much sense. You've been disappearing more. Staying late in meetings that mysteriously don’t involve any of us. That mysterious bruise on your neck last month. The weird good mood. This is huge.”

Levi adjusted his cravat again, this time higher, but it was far too late.

He considered lying. Brushing it off.

He sighed.

“I’m seeing someone,” he said, voice sharp as steel.

Sasha screamed.

Connie dropped to his knees. “THE WORLD ISN’T REAL.”

Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. Wait, wait. Who is it? Who could it possibly be?”

“It’s not your concern,” Levi said calmly, starting toward his horse.

“It absolutely is our concern!” Jean cried. “We’re invested now!”

“Are they in the Corps?” Armin asked, trying to keep the tone respectful. “You can just say yes or no. Blink twice.”

“No,” Levi replied. “But yes.”

Moblit whispered, “What does that even mean?”

“Are they hot?” connie asked.

Levi didn’t answer.

“Oh my god,” Hange murmured, looking skyward. “It’s y/n, isn’t it?”

Levi froze mid-step.

And that silence said everything.

Eren howled. “YOU’RE DATING HER?! SHE’S LIKE—THE COOLEST PERSON IN THE ENTIRE BRANCH!”

“She could punch all of us and I’d say thank you,” Sasha added.

Jean shook his head slowly. “I didn’t even think you liked people.”

“I don’t,” Levi muttered. “She’s an exception.”

Mikasa was quiet, but the smallest, faintest smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “She makes sense for you.”

Levi mounted his horse without further commentary.

Everyone watched him like he was a newly crowned deity.

“When did this happen?” Armin asked.

“None of your damn business.”

“Do you love her?” Sasha blurted.

Levi paused. “Irrelevant.”

“OH MY GOD YOU LOVE HER,” Jean screamed.

“Like. Deep,” Sasha whispered.

“You guys gonna get married or—?” Connie started.

“Enough,” Levi barked. “Anyone who brings this up on the mission gets left in the forest.”

Hange sang out. “This is the best day of my life.”

“Shut up.”

“You can’t stop us,” Connie said proudly. “This is the tea of the year.”

“Connie,” Levi deadpanned, “do you want a concussion?” "But you gotta admit captain, you're down bad." Eren said, smirking.

Levi turned around. But from the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, the answer was clear.

And he still didn’t wipe off the lipstick.

This wasn’t the first of Levi’s work events that you attended on his arm but it was the most formal. While his coworkers had interacted with you plenty of times in the past, they had never seen quite so much skin and you were drawing a great deal of appreciative stares from your boyfriend’s male cohorts. Appreciative stares that Levi did not appreciate at all. 

You’d even caught Erwin, straight-laced and morally upstanding to a fault, stealing a glance below your neckline. Unfortunately, Levi had caught it too. You thought he was going to pop a blood vessel. You’re still not sure that he won’t before the night is through. 

A disgruntled, “Tch”, is all you get in response to your comment. 

You breathe a sigh and gently unwind Levi’s fingers from where they’re wrapped around the champagne flute in death grip. “I’m serious,” you set the rescued glass on the bar behind you, “You need to relax.” 

“I’ll relax when we get home where no one is appraising you like a damn piece of meat and I can get that infuriating dress off of you.” His voice is low and dark and he’s actually pouting. 

“Well,” You intertwine your fingers in his now free hand and wrap your other arm snugly around his bicep, pressing your mostly exposed chest to his arm. “I certainly hope that you don’t feel too relaxed when you're taking my clothes off.” 

He huffs your name and rolls his eyes. You’d tease him further but you don’t get a chance. You’re being approached by the next target of Levi’s glare: A tall broad-shouldered man with wavy blonde hair and a scruffy beard. 

“Fuck off, Jaeger.” 

Zeke laughs, a full-bellied fake thing that makes your skin crawl. Of Levi’s associates, Zeke is by far your least favorite. “Ever the charmer, Levi.” Zeke flashes a smile at you and winks like you’re in on some joke together. “Apparently charming enough to trap this alluring creature on your arm. Who knew you had it in you? Hard to imagine how you can be so bitter at work when you're coming home to something so sweet.” He turns to face you fully. “You’ve certainly got this room in a tizzy. Levi should bring you around more often. Especially when you’re dressed like that.” 

“Zeke, I swear-” 

“Mr. Jaeger,” you cut your boyfriend off smoothly. “I’m flattered. Levi helped me pick this dress out. He has great taste, doesn’t he?” You run your hands down the length of your abdomen and Zeke’s gaze follows. You swallow the bile it elicits. 

“Well I can’t argue that when he’s chosen you as your date. Though I do feel that yours may be in question.” 

Zeke’s eyes - bright blue and intelligent - sparkle with mirth behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Yeah, I think you could.”

Levi is vibrating with anger under your touch but you give his bicep a squeeze to placate him before speaking, “Oh? You think I could do better?” 

You give Levi an appraising look, scanning him from head to toe. You ignore the fierce side-eye he gives as you do so. “Hmmm. I suppose it’s something to consider, Mr. Jaeger.” 

A feral grin slowly spreads across Zeke’s face. “I’ll be here waiting once you’re ready to move up, sweetheart.” 

You cock your head and furrow your brow, “I’m sorry but you will be waiting?”  

The smile slips from Zeke’s lips like oil through the cracks in the pavement. “You look like a sweet little thing but I’m beginning to suspect that you might be just as sour as your man here.” 

“Most certainly.”

“But, Mr. Jaeger, I thought the idea was to be moving up, not down.” 

“Yes, well, appearances can be deceiving. After all, you look like a gentleman with your rented suit and your cute little pocket square but here you are, behaving and reeking like a pig.” You wiggle your nose for effect. “Goodnight, Mr. Jaeger” 

You steer Levi away gently to find a seat at a table on the outskirts of the dance floor. Your feet are aching in your heels and you’re still annoyed by your conversation with Zeke so you really just want to sit down but Levi grabs your wrists before you get the chance. He pulls you against his body with bruising force and it’s almost indecent the way the lines of your bodies press against each other in this open public space. You have half a mind to push away from him but the thought flees your brain when Levi presses his lips to yours. The kiss is demanding and rough and you melt into it immediately. It stops all too soon and then Levi is cradling your face in his hands as he husks, “I fucking love you.” 

The dry statement breaks the sexual tension and you laugh. “Alright, down boy.” You earn another eye-roll. “I’m going to head to the bathroom to fix whatever havok you just wreaked on my lipstick. Behave yourself, please.” 

“Don’t take too long. I want to get out of here as soon as possible.” The gruffness is back and so is the pout. You kiss it softly before turning to walk away. 

As you do, you catch the tail end of a conversation between two men who are far too old to be looking at you the way they are. All you can make out is something about a “fine piece of ass” and a “helluva display”. You wince when you hear one of them clap Levi on the shoulder and say something about “sharing the goods”. That can't have gone over well. 

You push it down and march to the bathroom with your head held high. It's mercifully empty and quiet and you breathe a sigh of relief. Leaning against the cool marble counter, you check your reflection in the mirror and swipe at the lipstick that Levi smeared across your lips in his aggressive reclamation of your attention. You think about how frustrated he's been tonight and feel a little guilty for putting him in this position no matter how unintentional it was. Maybe having you out of the picture for a few minutes will give him a chance to cool down. 

The door slams open with a bang. Or maybe not, you think as you see Levi standing in the doorframe, face flushed with fury. He crosses the room in two stomping strides allowing the door to swing shut behind him.

“Levi what are you-” you don't get any further before his lips are on yours. While his kiss earlier was hungry, this one is ravenous. He crowds you back against the counter as his tongue plunges into the cavern of your mouth. He tastes like the champagne you’ve both been drinking and you think you could get drunk off of his kisses alone. You’re not sure how long it has been before you finally break for air but it must have been a while because you find yourself gulping great mouth-fulls of air. Levi apparently does not feel the same need for oxygen and simply moves his ministrations to your neck and clavicle. You moan raggedly when he sucks a mark under your ear and it seems to push him over some ledge you hadn’t known he was standing on. 

His hands band around your waist and he lifts you onto the counter with a low grunt, keeping his mouth on your skin the whole time. Blood roars in your ears at the sensation and your legs automatically wrap around his waist when he steps between them. 

The new position puts your chest directly in front of his face and he dives into your cleavage, laving the exposed expanse with his tongue. His hands rise to knead and grope at the covered mounds on either side of his head and your own head thumps back against the mirror at the sensation of warmth and wetness that Levi trails across your skin. 

“Levi,” You try again, sounding breathless and ruined, “What - what are you doing?” 

“All these fucking pigs, undressing you with their eyes.” His voice is muffled by your tits and almost drowned out completely by the high-pitched keening sound you make as he deftly rolls a nipple between his fingers. He pulls away to give you a lust-laden look that makes heat pool between your legs. “I’m giving them something to look at.” 

His hands continue their near-brutal assault on your chest, his mouth working steadily at a spot in the center of your cleavage. It will bloom dark the instant he’s through, proudly displayed for all to see. You distantly think that you should maybe be ashamed, maybe stop him, but you’re so turned on that the only truly coherent thought in your head is more. 

You arch into him, desperate to be closer and he groans into your skin before turning his head to suck a new mark on the inner side of your right breast. He continues like that for what feels like hours, alternating sides and leaving shades of red and purple in his wake. Your hips begin to rock into his and you can feel how hard he is through the layers of clothing still covering you both. You want them gone. Fumbling hands struggle to undo his belt before he yanks them away and pins them to the mirror above your head. His lips find your neck again, tongue expertly tracing over every vein. 

“Levi,” Your voice comes out in a thready whine. “Please I need-” You cut yourself off with a gasp as he bites the junction where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Got you.” The words ghost across your skin and his hands roam down the length of your body. He soothes the bite with a sensual drag of his tongue and then keeps his lips busy while his fingers move under your dress. You are so delirious with pleasure that you don’t quite understand how your lace panties are suddenly no longer on your body but are being tucked into his pocket instead. His hands slide up your thighs in a slow drag, bringing your dress with them. You suck in a breath as the cool air hits your drenched pussy and make another weak attempt to reach for his belt. He swats your hand away without looking away from your soaked folds. “No time.” 

Your lip trembles and the fire you attempt to put into your voice is doused by the desperation that you cannot keep at bay, “Bastard. You can’t,”  -hiccup- “you can’t leave me like this.” 

A wicked smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, “Oh I’m not going to leave you like this. I was just saying that I don’t have time to fuck you the way I want to.” He sucks another mark into your neck and thrusts against your center, drawing a high-pitched whine from your throat. “The way you deserve to be fucked.” Another mark and another thrust. You think you’re going to go mad with lust. “That will have to wait.” This time he moves his hips slowly and deliberately, rubbing against you in a way that allows you to feel every thick, throbbing inch. “But there’s plenty of time for this.” 

Without any further warning, Levi moves his hips back and slides his fingers through your slick before plunging one into your wet heat. You gasp at the intrusion and your whole body curves up obscenely, pushing your chest towards Levi’s face. You feel his lips move against your cleavage as he murmurs, “That’s a good girl, so wet for me.” 

His point is enunciated by a squelch as a second finger joins the first. You throb as molten heat spreads through your core. His fingers move in tandem with his mouth, pushing and pulling, sucking and soothing. Your own mouth stutters over cries of “yes”, “please”, and, most frequently, “Levi”. 

You’re certain that there is not a single spot left on your chest that has not been marked and it becomes sensitive as he licks and sucks over the freshly formed bruises. A whimper of pain escapes and Levi responds by adding his thumb to the fray, brushing over your clit in decisive swipes. The pleasure washes out the pain and you are close to the edge within seconds. 

“Oh,” Your head knocks against the mirror after a particularly forceful thrust but you are too overcome to register the fresh pain. “Levi, I - please - I can’t - don’t stop-” You can’t finish a sentence but that’s okay, Levi doesn’t need you to. 

His fingers curl against your walls and he strums his thumb over your clit in tight circles. Your name comes out in a rasp against your left nipple as he commands, “Come for me.” 

Your orgasm is instantaneous and all-consuming. Blinding pleasure spreads through your body and you lose control of every muscle as they are engulfed by the sensation. Your legs spasm against the counter, shaking so hard that your left foot escapes the confines of the straps on your high heel. Cold glass chills your head as it rolls against the glass behind you and you stop breathing for a few precious minutes as your mind is wiped clear of all thoughts except one: How good Levi looks cleaning your come off of his fingers by popping them into his mouth and swirling his tongue around them - slowly and purposefully. You close your eyes to give your heart a chance to get back under control and when you open them again, Levi is staring at your tits in open admiration. He gently brushes his fingers between them and you wince at the feeling. “How bad is it?” You ask him in a voice that sounds nothing short of debauched. 

Levi sucks in a breath. “It's. .  .” He kneels to fix your heel and gently lifts you from your perch on the counter. You stumble into his chest as he sets you on your feet and he smiles softly, kissing your forehead. “Take a look.” 

He spins you slowly to face the mirror, keeping his hands securely on your waist. “Levi!” you scold, though the effect is somewhat marred by how broken your voice still sounds. Your chest is a riot of color. Every single inch of skin is littered with red kiss-marks, some already beginning to bloom into shades of purple and blue. Your neck bares his marks as well, though they are more scattered up there. Your boobs were very obviously the preferred target here and Levi very clearly did not miss. 

You sigh as you straighten your dress and attempt to put your hair back in order. Levi helps smooth a few of the flyaways and once you look somewhat put together - You definitely still look like you got railed in a public bathroom but at least your tits aren’t hanging out of your dress - you stretch a hand out to Levi, palm-up. “I’ll need my underwear back, too.” 

Levi looks at you thoughtfully for one moment, then ogles your tits for two. “No.” He states, patting his pocket. “I’ll think I’ll hold on to that for now.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, well, good thing we’re going home, then.” You step close to him and gently cup him through his pants, “We have some things to take care of, after all.” 

You knew what you were doing when you said it.

Casually, offhand, as if it wasn’t bait you were dangling right in front of a man known for discipline and deadly precision.

“All that muscle, and you still don’t have stamina,” you murmur, arms crossed over your chest as you lean in the doorway of the bedroom. “I find it cute, honestly.”

Levi’s glance lifts slowly from the papers in his hand. That brow arches — subtle, unimpressed — and you feel your pulse spike.

He says nothing at first. He just sets the file down, rises from the chair like a shadow, calm and slow. Controlled. Calculated.

And then you’re backing up, because he's walking toward you with that look — the one that makes your knees weak and you suffer for dry mouth.

You don’t make it far.

The backs of your knees hit the bed. His hands cup your face— not squishing, just gentle. He dragged it down your body to the buttons of you blouse, slipping his hands under your nightwear.

“Say that again,” he breathes, voice like crushed velvet and threat. “I dare you.”

You blink up at him. Defiant. But not dumb.

“…Maybe I’ll take it back.”

He doesn’t give you the chance.

You hit the bed with a thud — not rough, but assertive — and he’s on you in a blur, pinning you beneath him, kissing you hard enough to bruise. He strips you with one hand, pants gone, shirt discarded, like you’re being unwrapped in fast forward.

“You wanna talk about stamina?” he grunts, "look how wet you are , barely need any prep" he slowly sinks two fingers into you without preamble. “Let’s see how many times I can make you cum before your voice goes hoarse.”

Your back arches, a moan spilling out of you so quick it embarrasses you. He’s already working you open, cruelly slow, teasing your entrance before curling his fingers in just the right spot.

You’re already breathless when he finally shoves himself inside you — not gentle, not slow, just deep. You cry out, clawing at his shoulders as he sets a brutal rhythm, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing through the room.

“Still think I’ve got bad stamina?” he hisses, grabbing a fistful of your hair to pull your head back. You can’t even answer — too busy moaning, choking on your own breath.

When he pulls out, you whine from the loss — but he just flips you over and sits back against the headboard, panting slightly, cock still hard and slick from your arousal.

“Get on,” he orders, voice rough. “Since you like to run your mouth so much — show me how well you can use your hips.”

You straddle him, legs trembling as you lower yourself onto his dick, trying to muffle your voice as he fills you again. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as you start to move — slow at first, but quickly building pace. He lets you take over. Watches you through half-lidded eyes, the hint of a smirk on his lips like he owns you.

And he does. Because when the pleasure starts to crest again, you lose control. You ride him harder. Sloppier. Desperate and high-pitched, moaning his name like it’s the only word you know.

“That’s it,” he growls, hands gripping your ass, guiding you. “Use me. Fuck yourself stupid.”

And you do — chasing the orgasm like your life depends on it, slamming down on his cock over and over until you’re sobbing, writhing, body spasming around him as your climax rips through you like a scream in the dark.

Your thighs are trembling. Sweat drips down your spine. You’re so close—but not close enough.

Levi watches from below, cool and composed, even as your hips stutter and your moans crack from exhaustion.

“You wanted to ride,” he murmurs, voice low, maddeningly calm. His hands rest lazily on your hips, letting you do the work, even though your rhythm’s long gone. “Don’t stop now.”

You whimper, trying — trying — to lift yourself and drop down again, but your legs barely cooperate. Your body is jelly, and all you can do is grind down into him, clit catching at the base of his cock with each shaky roll of your hips.

It’s torture. The kind that makes tears prick your lashes.

“I c-can’t,” you stammer, voice broken and needy. “Levi… I can’t—fuck—I’m too tired…”

“You talk too much,” he says flatly. “But when it matters, you get shy?”

You bury your face in his shoulder, clinging to him as your hips jerk and drag against him pathetically. You’re soaked, fluttering around him, aching for release—but you need him to do it. Need his strength. His power. The way he ruins you like it’s a duty only he knows how to fulfill.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, Levi—pound me, fuck me—I can’t—need you to do it—need you to f-fuck me, better.”

That gets his attention. Your voice barely held up on the last syllable when you his dick twitched, your pussy tightening witha breathy moan.

His hands tighten at your waist, and his voice drops an octave — that warning edge returning.

“Say it again.”

Your body pulses with want. Shame, heat, arousal all tangled in one. You lift your head, eyes glassy, and give him everything.

“Please fuck me, Levi,” you beg. “I’m too tired—I can’t do it—I need you to ruin me.”

He exhales slowly, like you’ve just answered a question right on a test he wrote himself.

“Feeling that good?.”

He grabs your hips and slams up into you.

Your entire body arches, a strangled moan ripping out of your throat as he starts pounding into you from below — merciless and deep, the sound of skin meeting skin loud and filthy. You’re not even riding anymore. You’re just being used — his cock spearing into you with punishing precision, over and over, while he holds you in place and fucks you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Look at you,” he snarls. “Falling apart on my cock after talking shit. This what you wanted?”

You can’t even answer. You're whining with pleasure, nails digging into his shoulders, mouth slack as your body clutches him, spasming around him as the orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave.

Levi groans — sharp, guttural — and thrusts up one last time, spilling inside you with a hiss, his grip bruising, his breath harsh against your throat.

Your body’s still twitching, overstimulated and wrecked, chest pressed against his, lips parted where they rest against his neck. You’re barely breathing through the soft whimpers spilling from your throat — and that’s when Levi shifts.

One slow thrust.

Deep.

You gasp, whole body jerking as he pushes back inside you again. Your pussy clamps down, still fluttering from the orgasm he just tore out of you. It’s too much — and yet not enough. He’s not slamming into you anymore. No, now he’s savoring it. Drawing it out.

He pulls almost all the way out, leaving just the thick tip inside your soaked cunt — and then he slides back in, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch.

Your back arches, a sob catching in your throat.

“Still sensitive?” he murmurs, voice a hoarse whisper against your temple. “Too bad.”

Another slow, deep thrust. And then another. Every movement makes your thighs twitch around his waist. Your legs try to close, but his hands are there, holding you open — forcing you to feel every drag of his cock through your overstimulated core.

You cry out, face buried in his neck, hand gripping the pillow again.

“L-Levi,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, lashes wet, “I can’t— I c-can’t take more—”

“Yes, you can.” His voice is low. Calm. Cruel in how composed he stays while your body comes undone again. “You’re gonna take all of me. Nice and slow. Until I decide you’ve had enough.”

He rolls his hips into you again, the slow grind so intimate it’s maddening. Your nails scrape along his shoulder, your walls squeezing around him involuntarily with every inch he presses in.

“You feel that?” he breathes into your ear. “That’s me. Still hard. Still deep. Still not finished.”

You’re sobbing now — needy, desperate, eyes rolling again as he keeps thrusting in those long, slow strokes that push all the way in and drag all the way out. It’s like he’s memorizing the inside of you. Letting you feel the weight of what he’s done. What he’s still doing.

And when your body starts to tremble again — building toward another release you weren’t ready for — Levi just smirks against your throat.

“That’s it,” he says softly, darkly. “You’re gonna cum for me again. Slow this time. Deep. Messy.”

You shake your head, but your body betrays you — hips rising to meet his, mouth slack, moans broken.

You’re shaking. Every inch of you feels like it’s vibrating, barely stitched together by will alone. Two orgasms already tore through you like a storm, leaving your muscles twitching and your thoughts scattered.

And Levi’s still inside you. Still moving.

Not fast—no. He’s slow now. Measured. Deep enough that every time he thrusts, your breath hitches from the way he drags over that raw, sensitive spot inside you.

“Levi…” you croak, voice barely above a whisper, lips pressed to his shoulder. “I don’t… I don’t think I can come again.”

His pace doesn’t change.

You grip his shoulders, as if anchoring yourself could somehow slow the unbearable buildup crawling back under your skin.

His hand curls around the back of your thigh again, pulling your leg higher up his hip, exposing more of you to him. His hips roll in a way that makes your whole body jolt.

“Then use the safeword,” he murmurs into your ear, calm. Controlled.

You freeze.

He doesn’t push, doesn’t taunt—just offers the option like it’s always been there. And it has been. It is.

But you don’t say it.

You bite down on a whimper instead, fisting the pillow behind his head, still clinging to him like you’re afraid you’ll fall apart without him.

He shifts just slightly, adjusting his angle, and the next thrust makes your back arch on instinct, hips chasing the feeling despite everything in you saying you’re too sensitive, too overwhelmed.

“You’re not saying it,” he mutters, low and steady. “So I’m going to keep going.”

He pulls out slowly, deliberately—only to stop right at your entrance, holding you there, the thick head of his cock barely nudging your slick heat.

You whimper again, hips twitching.

He’s testing you now. Teasing, giving you space to decide. And all you can do is press yourself against him, trembling and pliant.

Your mouth finds his jaw, brushing against his skin, breath stuttering against the heat of him.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, like a confession.

“Thought you couldn’t take more.”

“I lied,” you breathe, lips barely moving. “I want it—need it, please…”

His hand slides from your thigh to your ass, spreading you open as he sinks back into you in one smooth stroke. The sensation makes you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulder. You're so sensitive it’s like you can feel every vein, every inch of him—too much and not enough all at once.

You cling to him again, your lips brushing his temple, his neck, his ear. You're not even sure what you're saying anymore—just a mess of slurred praise and desperate begging, grounding yourself in the shape of him, the sound of his breathing, the deep burn that coils tighter and tighter with each thrust.

Levi groans low and keeps his pace steady, grounding you with the weight of his body and the low rasp of his voice in your ear.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, each word timed with a slow, deliberate thrust. “One more. That’s all I want.”

And even though you told him you couldn’t… your body betrays you.

The build happens again. Unstoppable. Hot and sharp and overwhelming. You bury your face in his shoulder, trying to muffle the noises you can’t control as that third orgasm crashes into you with a sob and a shudder.

You don’t even realize you’re crying until he slows down and murmurs something soft into your hair, hands still steady, still grounding you as your body convulses around him.

Time stops mattering.

It’s just you and him—your heart thudding against his, your breath catching in hiccuped sobs, and his voice low, reassuring, solid in your ear.