the Red C @fizzpixie - Tumblr Blog

Noncommittal Levi Ackerman x Reader Smut There are adult themes! MDNI :)!

note: this was intended to be a one-shot, however I decided to continue it as a series on my ao3 account! https://archiveofourown.org/users/noir_or_never/works (first chapter is cross-posted) word count: 8,111

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"How about the price?"

The man inquiring you took a drawn, deep drag from a parejo cigar, inconsiderately puffing fat rings of smoke into your face. The acrid clouds wafted over your nose, making you grimace. His chapped lips tugged upwards into a wolfish, predatory grin, already fantasizing about what his intentions were with his purchase.

"Depends on the service." You stated plainly, an overt air of disinterest in your tone while addressing the man's queries. You observed how his face and hands were caked with a film of dirt as he rolled the lit cigar between his swollen fingers.

"Services? Plural?" He chuckled gruffly, releasing curls of smoke from his toothy maw.

You didn't respond. Rather, you reached inside your clutch and fished out a small piece of paper that resembled that of a business card. On it was scrawled with a variety of available services - a menu. You handed it to him. He inspected it carefully, almost as if he couldn't read and was trying to decode what the tiny script said. He frowned.

"Fifty dollars? Seems a little steep for twenty minutes."

"Of full service?" You scoffed. Fifty measly dollars for unadulterated access to your body for what would feel like eternity to you was quite cheap in reality. But, lamentably, the underground required that all goods and services were marked down. Not by legislation, but by the law of nature. Surviving required shooting low to improve the odds of clients spending money that they themselves had little to spare. Your arms were crossed begrudgingly over your chest as you offered him an insincere half-smile.

"Above ground it would be three hundred for fifteen minutes." Your words were heavy but you tried to play coy, feigning your irritability, offended that he would audaciously criticize a price that you reluctantly placed on your own body. The man returned you with a scowl.

"Well Miss, we aren't above ground, are we?" He followed his rebuttal with a deep suck from his cigar. He peered you up and down, his unwelcoming eyes drawing particularly close attention to your legs. You presented yourself in a short pleated slip dress that fell flatly against your frame and was deep maroon in color. Point-toe black stilettos were your choice of shoes when you were on the clock. In your right hand was a silver pleather clutch purse, and in your left, the butt of a cigarette that you had already smoked, hanging sad and loose in between your fingers. With his free hand he fished into his pilling trench coat pockets and pulled out a scrunched wad of cash, flitting through the bills until he counted out fifty dollars and handed it to you.

"No, I guess we're not." You accepted the money and stared at it blankly with resentment.

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The man was long gone, but your weary body was persistent that it lay in the dirtied and balled up sheets stained with sweat and filth. You glanced at the clock. Your shift was not over. Your gaze then fell to the crumpled up bills that you left on the night stand, your heart filling with disdain. One more man and your shift would theoretically be over, depending on what he wanted and how long it - or he - took. The room was eerily silent apart from the faint, dull ticking of the clock. The second hand clicked in melodic time and created an ominous ambience. However, the rhythmic squeaks, the creaking and cracking of the bed from moments earlier haunted you and your body recoiled in disgust at the recent memory.

Working at a brothel in the underground was not a job for the faint of heart. It took a significant amount of resilience and desperation to forfeit yourself over to such a callous industry. Apart from the complete violation of your body and your mental integrity, every single person you met was unremarkable. Selling your body to such menial men felt like your worth was contingent to theirs, and in your eyes, these men were worthless. Nothing but greedy, gluttonous pigs who were slaves to their salacious desires, reducing them to that of a mindless animal. But someday, maybe someday soon, you were going to apply for residency and purchase a ticket that would allow you access to the stairs where you could ascend up and out of the underground and into the outside world. The thought of feeling the welcoming warmth of sunshine on your pale, malnourished skin for the very first time, the thought of eating real food that wasn't just the crumbs that trickled down the cracks from the wealthy, the thought of tasting freedom - or, at least, the closest version of freedom one could feel living within confined walls - fueled a desire that could not be quelled. You were going to escape this life, by any means possible.

The reveries of your aspirations were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. The house mom poked her head in.

"We're about to do another display soon. Please make yourself decent." She briefed before closing the door again and left you to yourself. You slowly sat up, a little sore from earlier, and reached for your forgotten clothes before grabbing the cash on the nightstand and shoving it into your clutch. Heedlessly, you slipped on your heels and took a quick glance in the mirror to make sure you were presentable enough, and then you sauntered out the door, leaving the linens dirtied by your sins and regrets behind for the house mom to take care of.

You emerged from the hallway into the common corridor where stood a cluster of pin-up girls wearing revealing, degrading garments. The ages of these women ranged from teenagers to middle aged, and even one elderly. They were passively talking amongst themselves, waiting for the dreaded cue that signaled them to shamelessly parade themselves on stage. You joined the women silently, not bothering to make conversation until the word was called. Shortly following your arrival was a brief introduction from the brothel's pimp. He then said the word, and the group of women including yourself marched up onto the raised platform that was positioned towards the end of the room. The space was clamoring with expectant men. The vast majority of them were unkempt. However, there were a handful of conspicuously wealthy men littered here and there amongst the throng. It wasn't uncommon for men from above ground to venture down to link up with prostitutes. Many did so to have affairs, and to avoid running the risk of bumping into people that they would otherwise know in their personal lives. Doing so allowed them the comfort and luxury of a low profile. The thought was abhorrent, to think of all of the wives unbeknownst to their husband's deceitful nature. As the women began lining up, the men released a collective howl. All the women mustered a performative smile with eyes that were much more sad and honest about their true feelings, but you couldn't help rolling your eyes at their crude reactions. Like clockwork, you and the other women began to waltz around in a circle to properly display the entirety of your figures.

As you aversely flaunted in time, a cloaked silhouette caught your attention through your periphery. When you rounded the corner bringing you back to the face of the crowd you made eye contact with whoever it was that was staring you down intently. You fought the urge to look away due to the intensity of his gaze. Confidently, you maintained eye contact, and returned his stare, both of your eyes following each other for the entire perimeter of your walk up until you rounded the circle again and faced away from him. You quickly disregarded your stare-down with the man and proceeded with your composed flow, counting in your head each step you took to take your mind off the eyes undressing you. Before long, all of you dismounted the platform and allowed the men to step forward with their various inquires. To your surprise, for the first time in a while, nobody approached you. The cloaked figure had disappeared in the bustling crowd. Simultaneously you were relieved, yet disappointed. You really wanted to make some more money before the night was over, but you were emotionally and physically drained. About half of the women initiated their scripted small talk with their potential clients while you remained unbothered. You slinked into the corner of the room with an unreserved table and retrieved a cigarette from your clutch, flicking a match ablaze and touching the flame to the tip. The fire flitted for a moment before catching the tobacco leaves, and you took a long drag. You scanned the room, uninterested, as you watched a couple of girls start to walk away with their new clients and disappear behind the cigarette smoke-stained curtain that covered the hallway to the bedrooms. You sighed, taking another drag. You took a moment to observe the space. The main corridor was entirely wooden, with red-rusted lanterns being the only meaningful sources of light that hung from splintered beams supporting low ceilings. The center tables were tall and standing with no chairs, dressed with deep purple satin table cloths soiled with alcohol spatters and cigarette ashes. They were accented with white ornate porcelain ash trays as center pieces, the nicest things decorating the space. Matching purple drapes were tied around the proscenium arch of the stage where you had just retired from. In addition to the standing tables, there were smaller, sitting tables hugging the walls of either side of the room.

Idle moments passed and the corridor began to clear out, besides the men who loitered to chatter amongst themselves. Thank god. It was starting to get stuffy and the mixed stench of drunk breath and sex was growing more and more overwhelming. As you aimlessly watched the unclaimed women scamper around desperately trying to convince the remaining men to spend time with them, the same hooded man that you had noticed earlier approached you. You hadn't caught on to his pursuit until he sat squarely across from you. Your attention diverted to him. He remained silent as he took his seat.

"Hi there." You finally chimed after some awkward moments of silence. The man still said nothing.

"My name is (y/n). First time here?" That was typically your first line whenever introducing yourself to an unfamiliar customer. Half of the time, it actually was their first experience at your brothel. The other half of the time it was a regular. Not necessarily your regular, but it gave you a good gauge of his history within your industry and if you should be careful of him and potential diseases. You tried to drum up a conversation and sat up a little bit more to create the illusion through your body language that you were interested in having conversation.

"No. But not because I've ever received a service here." He finally said, with an apathetic flatness to his voice. He seemed as equally uninterested in being there as you were. Atypical for most men that came around, who were rather eager to get their night going. You were impartial to whether a man wanted to cut to the chase or if he wanted to draw out the much desired company with a conversation. This man didn't seem entertained with either idea, considering he wasn't very talkative. This perplexed you; then realization struck you. He was one of those guys that watched the girls display themselves for free whilst never having to spend a dime for his sexual satisfaction, a broke voyeur.

You chuckled a little and sucked on your teeth while sneering, "You wouldn't be the first freeloader to come in just to gawk for free and then leave." You said curtly and rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time that night. Your attention turned back to the women you were observing earlier. This conversation was over to you. One of the girls started arguing with a burly man about her prices.

"An attitude like that would kill the erection of any man. No wonder you're sitting here alone." The line of the man's lips were straight as he spoke. Your face twisted at his response, turning back to face the man. Your cigarette was almost out.

"It's actually quite easy for me to get clients." You boasted, your ego a little hurt by his comment. Rejection was frequent. At first it didn't bother you, but multiple declinations accumulated like bricks on your chest and bruised your self-esteem. In reality you knew it didn't necessarily have to do with how you looked. Many of these men were just flat broke. And having a preference wasn't a crime, either.

"Tsk. Considering men will fuck anything, that's not exactly a metric you should use to measure your pride."

"It's not," you huffed, "I'm just saying I'm good at my job."

"Clearly."

"What's your fucking deal." You whipped out another cigarette and sparked it up quickly, growing more frustrated with the scornful man insistent on pestering you.

"Did I strike a nerve?" His monotonous voice maintained his unreadability. The smoke wanned from your lips as you examined him. It was hard to completely distinguish his look with the level of lighting in the room and his choice of clothing. From what you could tell, he didn't appear to be old, but he didn't look young either. One skill that this job allowed you to hone was your ability to get a swift read on men within the first minute of interacting. However, you felt stumped. This was the first time in a while where you couldn't accurately profile someone with confidence. You resorted to examining his attire. He wore a hooded dark beige trench coat that was buttoned all the way up to conceal whatever else he was wearing underneath. He didn't appear to be from the underground, but you couldn't bank on that.

"Look," you started, tapping your cigarette above the ash try before returning it to your lips, "if you're interested in a service, I have options. You're assumably here for one thing. I'm here for one thing. I don't really think we need to discuss much else. But if you're just here to be a voyeur, I'm not the girl to be looking at." As you spoke you grabbed the same business card you had given to the previous man earlier.

"I don't need to see that." He dismissed you with a wave of his hand.

"How else are you supposed to know the services and their prices? If you're not interested that's fine, but if not please don't waste my time."

He clicked his tongue. "Because you obviously have much better things to do. Or should I say, people." Your stomach sank with unease at his crude commentary and uncouth demeanor. You were beginning to think he just came in to ridicule a poor girl for his own twisted amusement. You should add that as one of your services, you thought to yourself, enough men are probably into that and you might as well get paid for it. You chased your nervousness with another cigarette puff, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked in the smoke.

"You can talk to the others if you'd prefer," he motioned around the room, "I'm sure you could fuck any of them for a quick buck." You scanned the room at the remainder of the men who loitered around. All of them looked admittedly older, and dirtier. You groaned.

"You can talk to any of the other women as well." You suggested plainly. At this point, you weren't very keen on entertaining him any longer. It was probably lost money, but you were willing to miss out if it brought the uncomfortable conversation to a close.

"I chose to talk to you for a reason."

"Then why pick me?" Your question was not returned with an answer. He only maintained his persistent, unnerving stare. You both sat in silence for a bit longer. He was the one to finally break it.

"I will give you two thousand. But I want you to shut up and stop asking questions. Go to room 9. And I want you to be naked when I get in there," Your eyes widened at his words. Two thousand dollars? Two zero zero zero? That was the equivalent to four to eight weeks worth of work. Income was inconsistent in this line of business. Some weeks, clients only shelled out for the cheapest forms of physical intimacy. A full blown fuck came around if you were lucky yet also deeply misfortuned. "Also, put that cigarette out. Smoking is fucking gross. I don't need you tasting like ash."

With reluctance, you smothered the tip of your half smoked cigarette into the ash try, snuffing the glowing cherry until it died out. "I require payment up front." You associated prices like that with men who scammed women like you. You needed proof.

"Half now. Half later." His response held an air of frustration.

You nodded, and he unfastened the first few buttons of his coat to reach into the interior pocket. With discretion he revealed neatly folded bills. You held your hand out eagerly and watched in awe as he placed the cash into your palm. You stared at it for a good while, then proceeded to count back the cash to confirm he really did give you half, baffled at the sheer quantity of it. The man's iron stare contorted to a puzzled look.

"What's with the buffering? Get going." He barked impatiently.

"Yes. Right." You rose to your feet and moved with haste towards the curtain, your heels clicking on the dry wood as you disappeared behind it.

Moments passed, and you were poised on the freshly made bed with stick-straight posture, your body facing the door and your hands placed delicately, deliberately on your knees. You had been sitting erect for awhile, anxious and impatient for your newest client to arrive, and more importantly, for the rest of the money to find its way into your cob-webbed pocket. It felt awkward to be stationed so formally whilst completely nude, but it felt even stranger to lay casually as if anticipating a familiar friend. You wanted him to think you were proper. He had to have been someone from above ground.

You'd never been this nervous for a client before. Copulating with someone possessing so much wealth had you feeling like you'd need to put on a grandeur show to please someone of his status. I mean, what if he asked for his money back? Or decided he wasn't going to give you the other half? Your eyes darted to the clock - almost fifteen agonizing minutes had passed and he still hadn't shown up. Its fateful tick grew louder, echoing in your head as it bounced off the walls of the dark room. You wouldn't be completely devastated if he bailed, knowing you made a cool one thousand dollars without having to provide any services at all. A fleeting thought dawned on you that you could take a dash, run for it with what you've made. But unhappy and resentful clients could report these instances to the house mom or pimp, which would wind you up in grueling punishment. Or you'd lose your job. In the midst of your mulling, the door let out a rasp groan as it was slowly pushed open. The man slipped in and shut the door behind him followed by a hushed ker-chunk of the lock clicking into place. In the darkness, he stood idly, staring at you for a moment without uttering a word. He seemed to like doing that, standing quietly and staring. A creeping sensation tingled up your spine at his silent entry. Words failed you, and he took that as his sign to meander in your direction and sit next to you on the bed. He maintained ample space between the two of you, perhaps out of courtesy. You kept your head forward, feeling like if you dared to look at his face something bad would happen. You still weren't sure of what he looked like.

"Look at me." He demanded. With slow hands, he withdrew from the anonymity of his hood as it slumped to his shoulders.

You did as you were told and your body remained noticeably stiff as you craned your neck to grant his wish. When you gained the confidence to return his stare, you locked eyes, now for the second time. Finally, you could get a good look at him. Raven hair fell into his face in thin wisps. Around his cool, steel, hollow eyes were delicate lines that suggested he had seen some years. His narrow brows were immortalized into a chronic furrow as if he was always in thought, or always distressed about something. His nose was sharp, upturned, and his cheekbones and chin were pointed and angular. He was quite attractive, and although not necessarily young, pleasantly younger looking than your usual clientele.

"Not bad," he spoke with a soft voice upon getting a good look at you, a complete switch from his reductive tone earlier, "even if your attitude is piss poor." Your nostrils flared, heavily exhaling, your heart beginning to pick up pace rapidly. Your unfamiliar nerves prodded at your chest, even though the expected practice was one you have done dozens of times before. However, there was a nagging idea that this man was unpredictable and wouldn't act in accordance with the men you've worked with in the past.

"You never told me what you wanted." You spoke in almost a whisper, not having intended to sound so hushed.

He did not say anything, but rather, carefully dropped to his knees. He scooted in front of you, lifting his hands and placing his palms on the inside of your knees to part your legs slightly. He stared at what was between them intently. At this point, your heart was erratically thumping, pounding against your already tight chest in a way that you were convinced it would push itself right out of your ribcage and onto your lap. His head inched forward as he placed a gentle, tender kiss on the inside of your thigh. His velvet lips blossomed a shudder up your leg and throughout your whole body, rippling back down until a buzzing sensation pooled in your womb. His thoughtful pecks started to trail up the inside of your thigh, stopping right before meeting the delicate petals of your sex. His reservation of contacting your most sensitive spot caused your stomach to lurch forward as you white-knuckled the sheets on the edge of the mattress, yearning for him to continue. His affable actions caught you off guard, for you expected him to treat you as others did in the past. You gathered that from his unpleasant personality earlier. But you were being proven wrong with each of his movements. Upon reflection, you couldn't recall the last time someone gave you head. His gaze floated to yours to measure your reaction. He could see your eyes were squinted and your lips were parted slightly, sucking in quick, shallow breaths. He seemed satisfied with what he saw, and then, while maintaining eye contact, dipped his head into your crotch and licked a long stripe from the bottom of your hole, in between your folds and stopped at the top at the hood of your clit. An exasperated gasp escaped you at the feeling of his wet tongue splitting your labia, shooting electric shocks up your abdomen. He then started lapping at you, moving his tongue methodically and occasionally stopping to nip at your swollen clit before soothing the sting with a dexterous swirl around the bulb using the tip of his tongue. His head withdrew slightly so he could shoot a thick gob of spit on your pussy before diving back in, engulfing your wet cunt with the warmth of his mouth. His wet muscle thrusted in and out of you between his breaths. You groaned, your right hand instinctually palming the back of his head to keep him in place. His hand abruptly grabbed your wrist, squeezing it with a grip that demonstrated his strength.

"Don't." He muttered in between laps. He selfishly desired full control. You obeyed, yet his hold on your wrist remained as he sucked and kissed you fervently. His free hand slid up your thigh and crept to his tongues location. He withdrew again for a fleeting second to wet his longest digit with his mouth and then teasingly rubbed it against your entrance before slowly slipping it in, then replacing his mouth back onto your now throbbing clit. You mewled in delight and his slow pace began to pick up until he was steadily finger-fucking you whilst sloppily making out with the bundle of nerves that erupted inexplicable pleasure deep within your core. Your head started to get foggy, drunk on the chemical pleasure that flooded your clouded brain. All thoughts were banished and supplanted with primal desires of wanting more and more until you've had all of him.

"Your name," you panted, "I want to you know your name." A craving of his address plagued you - you needed to know what to call him and what to scream when the time finally came for him to fully bed you. He slipped in another finger in response, persistent with his motions until you felt your muscles tightening, a sign that you were on the verge of your relief.

"I'm gunna cum--" The words tumbled out of your mouth as you started to hyperventilate at the beaming sensations lighting you up. At your words, he suddenly removed his fingers and mouth from your aching pussy, a wet glistening string of spit connecting his tongue to your hole. You whined at his evacuation as he rose to his feet. The light of your climax faded away, your body begging in throbs and aches for him to return to his work. That fucker denied you your orgasm, he edged you. However, before you could complain, he released your wrist and with both hands shoved you onto the bed. With haste, he crawled above you and snaked a strong arm around your waist to hoist you from the edge of the bed onto the center of the mattress, and then again, lifting you up just enough to angle you so you were properly laying down with your head in the direction of the headboard. You squeaked at his powerful jerks. Now you were underneath him, and he was kneeling above you with his knees on either side of your thighs. Without thinking you reached for the noticeable bulge constrained by his pants, but he swatted you away.

"Quit." He ordered, and you lowered your hand away and closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath and control your trembling. He roughly grappled your jaw causing your eyes to shoot open again. He was glaring down at you, his face stern.

"Keep looking." You nodded breathlessly in compliance. He released his grip on your face, and with pain-staking slowness began unfastening his belt and pants.

"Please let me touch." You pleaded, wanting so badly to be the one to yank the hem of his pants down so you could witness his cock spring free. Never in your entire career had you been so eager for someone to ravish you. You couldn't recall a single time you've actually been horny with a client. Most of the sex you had was painful as your body dried up and tightened at the admittance of a foreign, selfish man. But this time you could feel your pussy bubble and moisten with anticipation.

"Touch me and I stop." His voice was low, and gravelly. The threat made you physically tremble, the thought of being so close to exploding and then ditched entirely was unbearable.

"You're so cruel." He let out one of his breathy scoffs.

"You don't even know." His fingers moved nimbly unzipping his pants, peeling back the flaps of his trousers and exposing his underwear. Before releasing his cock, he shed his coat and top, revealing a hard, chiseled body littered with faint purple-blue scars, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat produced both from the anticipation of you and the mugginess of the room. Then, fucking finally, he pulled down his boxers, letting his cock jump out and bobble up and down until it stood still, firm and tall. Your eyes grew wide in astonishment at his length, girth, and the slight upward curvature. Even after thoughtful prep, you feared that he would split you in half while nestling his cock deep into you.

After finally stripping himself of his pants and underwear fully, he moved his knees, nudging your thighs apart until he was in between your legs. He then leaned over, one hand on the side of your head holding him up while the other gingerly stroked himself. He brought his hand to his face to spit in it, and returned it back to his cock to aid in lubing it along with the precum dribbling from the crown. His face was mere inches from yours, both of you expelling heavy breaths into each others faces.

"Levi," He finally said, "my name is Levi." He aligned his swollen pink tip at the entrance of your aching hole. He slid the tip in between your folds up and down for a moment, swirling the head of his cock around your clit for good measure. His head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, smothering himself with your hair. His breath was hot on your ear, and he nibbled at the lobe.

"I want you to relax," He cooed as he shifted himself into position, "releaaaaax." As he drew out the word, he slowly advanced his pelvis forward, pushing himself into you with a little effort against the resistance of your walls. A stunted grunt left him as a strained cry left you. He didn't stop until the entirety of his length was burrowed deep up to the hilt of your cavity, almost barely touching your cervix. He remained still as your body adjusted to his size. After fitting himself comfortably inside you, he heaved himself up so he was towering over your trembling frame, now on his knees again while still maintaining his position within you. Each of his hands gripped the outside of your thighs so he could securely hold you and move your body in accordance with his desires. To your surprise, he didn't start plowing into you mindlessly, but instead, slowly and shallowly moved his hips to and fro, giving your body the opportunity to acclimate to his size. His tempo was rhythmic as he slowly gyrated his hips, barely removing contact from your skin. You could feel his cock pulsating, desperate for him to pick up the pace. But despite his own discretion he withheld his desires, practicing upmost discipline. Due to his slow and shallow movements, the heartbeat of his cock was more noticeable against your insides. It was driving you mad.

"More." You begged. He enthusiastically complied, eager and ecstatic that he could advance, and pulled out just a little further only to thrust himself back in. He pumped in and out while keeping his depth relatively restricted, still refraining from using his full length, the buttery friction of his movements along your insides feeling like warm wet silk. The feeling elicited the faintest moan from him. He did this a few more times before you pleaded again.

"More." This time he withdrew substantially more until he was almost entirely out of you, and pushed back in fully. You both moaned in unison. After the first complete thrust, both you and him could sense that your body was ready and eager for him to fuck you vigorously. He began speeding up, bucking his hips back and forth until he was ruthlessly ramming into you. You screamed in absolute pleasure.

"Levi!--" The sound of his name caused him to thrust harder, plunging deep into your aching cunt that was now gushing with juices as he growled vacuously. He fell into you, wrapping his arms underneath you while still maintaining speed, momentum, and force of each of his bucks. You reciprocated his embrace, hugging him as tight as you could while he penetrated you, all thoughtful calculations and movements to the wind. You both sighed heaving breaths of pleasure until he abruptly withdrew himself, picking you up with him and skillfully flipping you onto your hands and knees. He reentered as quickly as he could, not wanting to spend another second outside of you, and resumed his mindless, animalistic fucking from behind. The sounds of bare, wet skin slapping bounced off the walls, your ass rebounded against his hips while his hands harshly gripped your waist, forcing you back and forth onto him. You could sense that familiar feeling from earlier, the one where your lower half was starting to tighten and your body was growing weak. In this position, the curvature of his cock started to unknowingly pound into that sweet spot embedded at the end of your canal, each thrust shooting sparks of pleasure up your back. He let go of your waist and grabbed you by your neck with both hands from behind.

"I'm-I'm gonna cum--" You stammered, choked up by your cries and the now added pressure that wrung your throat. Because he had edged you earlier, you could feel this orgasm coming on much more intensely. Suddenly an overwhelming wave of pleasure exploded within you, blossoming through your body and the satisfaction repeating itself in generous waves as your pussy tightened around his pulsating member. He could feel your internal contractions, and that caused him to thrust even faster and harder than before, which you thought wasn't possible.

"Say my fucking name." He ordered, feeling his own release approaching.

"Oh god, Levi" You moaned, still intoxicated by your release that lingered longer than you'd ever experienced before. You were riding the waves of your high, unable to fully concentrate on his request. His grip on your throat tightened, as if demanding you to say more.

"Fuck, fuck, LEVI--" Your scream choked out pathetically through his fingers vice grip around your esophagus. The sound of your pitiful cries, the cadence of hearing his name quiver from your pretty mouth, the way your pussy clenched around his cock - practically sucking him in, he almost completely lost himself and all sensible judgement as he began climaxing. Just in the nick of time, he had pulled out, rapidly jerking himself to conclusion as he painted your back a creamy white. He heaved, letting out a quiet, pained cry at having to expel himself from your warm insides and being met with the cold air. Yet, he felt his own satisfaction spread heat throughout him. Euphoria left his brain disorderly. He roughly flipped you around again so you were lying on your back and immediately crashed down on top of you, trapping you underneath him, his labored breaths heavy and hard as he chased after them. Your arms felt numb, you felt like all of the blood from your body had rushed down to your core.

You both lied there, motionlessly, trying to reign control of your breaths until you both steadied into quiet, satisfied sighs. He had a moment of reflection as his level-headedness started to return to him. He was alarmed that he had almost succumbed to the urge to cum inside you, pumping you full of his hot seed. He was a man of discipline and self-control. Despite this, he waved it off, just grateful that he mustered through his absentmindedness in time. As he sandwiched you between himself and the mattress, you cautiously brought up a hand to his head, gingerly petting his slightly dampened hair, occasionally scratching the top of his scalp before returning back to a gentle stroke. Instead of swatting you away like you anticipated he accepted your loving gesture. He hummed with content into your neck. You both held each other endearingly, and let time pass.

You peered at the clock for the first time since he had arrived into your room. Both of you had ended up fucking each other for an hour, and thirty more minutes had passed of your after-the-fact embrace in silence. You squirmed underneath him, wiggling free from his weight with immense effort, and without saying a word repositioned yourself so he was behind you. You suggested with your body language that you wanted him to spoon you so you could cradle yourself in his arms once more. He understood what you wordlessly asked for and snaked his strong arms around your shoulders from behind, lacing his arms, hands, and fingers around yours and pulling you close until your naked body was flush against his. You basked in his warm embrace. Now that you finally had your post-nut clarity, you could think straight again.

"So why did you choose me? You said it was for a reason." You cut the silence with a question.

"You didn't look away when we made eye contact. But also, I found you attractive. Not much else." His response was swift, but satisfying. You let your other questions get the best of you now that you had him in a position where he was being responsive.

"Earlier you mentioned that it wasn't your first time here, but you've never received a service. Why is that?" The question had prodded at you the moment he had mentioned it. He honestly didn't seem like the type of guy to gawk at women for free just to leave. Not after the way he just treated you in the bedroom. But if that wasn't the case, then it made no sense for him to ever step foot in the brothel. He didn't say anything at first, but then decided to respond.

"I don't want to talk about it." He grumbled.

"Well, why not? You'll never see me again. You can treat me like a one night confidant," you tried to persuade him, "besides, someone like myself isn't in a position to criticize, yeah?" He didn't say anything for a moment again, and then sat up, prompting you to sit up as well. The look in his eyes suggested he was in deep thought, debating what he was going to say to you.

"My mother used to work here." His voice was low, tired, and there was a flicker of an unreadable emotion in his eyes. Your pupils dilated, bewildered at what you had just heard. You weren't sure what to say, how to respond.

"Oh," You started, choosing your next words carefully, "Then… If you don't mind my asking… Why would you come here?" He lied back down and sighed, you remained sitting up.

"When I was a kid, not very often, but sometimes, she would take me to work with her when she couldn't find my uncle to watch over me while she was gone. I don't remember much of it, which is probably for the better. But what I do remember, the house mom was kind enough to give me a room to myself so I didn't have to see anything happening to the women here. But I could hear everything. And I'll never forget the smell." His nose scrunched at the thought of the tainted past. You mulled over his story, trying to imagine what it must have felt like to be in his shoes. Sounds like a sour childhood. This also meant he lived in the underground growing up. You took note of this information.

"I appreciate the back story but that doesn't really answer my question. What compelled you to revisit such a terrible place?" You prodded. He found this annoying, but your questions were understandable.

"Because I wanted to fuck, but I wanted to fuck someone that I for certain was never going to see again. I will never come back to this place after tonight." This information made your heart sink a little. Although you knew that it was likely you'd never see him again, you hadn't really thought about it until just now.

"What if we were to cross paths in the underground? It's not a big place. Would that upset you?" Your suggestion elicited a scoff out of him.

"I don't live in the underground. Not anymore." Of course.

"What is it that you do above ground? Like, occupation wise? You seem to do well for yourself." You thought back to the money he gave you just hours earlier, and then remembered the remainder of the money he owed you. You weren't too worried about it though.

"I'm a soldier." He said curtly, clearly not too interested in talking about his job or disclosing too much privileged information to you, as you were still a stranger to him. His statement was pretty broad. A soldier could mean anything. You knew at the very least that it was probably apart of the military, but you couldn't have imagined it paid that well. This conjured more questions. But, you could read the room. You didn't ask any further about his work. You lied back down and curled up to him, half spooning as his arm pulled you in closer.

"You're off-putting, but you're an attractive guy and you fuck well and you have money. I'm surprised you don't have a girlfriend," you snorted, laughing to yourself lightly, then your eyes widened at the thought that maybe he did have a partner after all and just wrapped you into an adulterous act, "you don't have a girlfriend, right?" He could sense your sudden panic.

"No. I'm not that big of a piece of shit," he started, and then trailed off, "It's just not in my cards." It was apparent to you that he stung himself a little with his own statement.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you always ask this many questions?" His grip on your body loosened as he turned to face you.

"I'm sorry." You shrunk into yourself, meek under his obvious irritation. After being so gentle and loving with you, he was returning to his cold, reserved demeanor. He groaned, annoyed but felt guilty enough for snapping at you. He decided he would explain himself, something that he does not typically do. But you had made a good point to him, a one-night confidant was really not much different than a one night stand.

"Getting invested in someone emotionally is not in my best interest. I could die any day. And romance is distracting. A split-second decision could cost me or my comrades our lives. It doesn't help that heartbreak is inevitable with romance," This was the longest monologue you've heard from him since meeting. You weren't even sure if he was capable of speaking more than one or two sentences at a time. You listened intently. "If I have a choice to avoid more heartbreak, that is the avenue I will pursue. I need to make the choice I think that I will regret the least. I can't regret someone if I never meet them. But I still have urges. So I hire prostitutes to satisfy my needs whilst remaining distant and removed, romantically," He further explained, "That being said, I don't plan on keeping in touch." His eyes met yours at his final statement. There was a discreet pain behind them, one so subtle that if you blinked you might miss it. You knew that he wasn't pained because he couldn't be yours, but because he couldn't be anyones. You were a symptom of this decision of his. You hypothesized that it wasn't out of lack of interest, but out of self-preservation. You broke your shared gaze, looking down in defeat.

"Yeah, I figured..." His thumb and index finger cradled your chin, perching your head back up to face him. He planted a gentle kiss on your lips but pulled away quickly. You scowled, and out of desperation tried pulling him back in for another, longer kiss. He pushed you back.

"That's enough." He sat up for the final time and retrieved his coat that was lying on the foot of the bed, pulling out what was left of his cash.

"Here's four thousand more. Do yourself a favor and get yourself out of this god-forsaken industry." You gasped, eyes fixated on the money he just offered to you. You glanced up at him, then back at the money, then back at him again, trying to gauge how legitimate he was being.

"I can't accept this. I simply can't. I refuse." Having developed a soft spot for this man, it would feel like robbery to be handed such an insurmountable amount cash after having the best fuck of your life.

"You're a shitty prostitute if you're turning down money." He shoved the money to your chest.

"Levi." Your voice was stern.

"If you don't accept it I'll burn it." He reached for your matches that you had left on the bedside table and skated one across his teeth to ignite a weak flame. With no hesitation he met the flame's tip to a corner of the stack, showing he fully meant what he said.

"Hey! What the fuck!" You snatched the wad out of his hands, sparing the bills from harm minus the corner that had been barely singed. He clicked his tongue, knowing that he got his way yet again.

To your dismay he evacuated himself from your hold and got out of bed. He was slow to put his clothes back on, and you watched him quietly as he redressed. His god-like body was now once again hidden underneath layers of bulky attire. You certainly preferred him naked. After he finished clothing himself, he picked up your skimpy garments that you had left on the floor and made his way to you. You gave him a quizzical look, unsure of what he was doing. He started with your mini dress.

"Lift up your arms." You did, and he helped you weasel your way back into your tight fitted garments, sweat causing sticky resistance as he pulled the fabric down firmly but with care as to not rip any seams. You remembered his cum was still on your back and now gluing your dress to your skin. Then he reached for your panties and knelt down as he held open one leg hole, and then the other, as you pointed your feet and slid them through. He pulled them up, but right before covering you, he left a quick, tender kiss on your pussy, and then hid it away while adjusting your panties so they hugged your body comfortably. Lastly was your shoes. While still on his knees, he grabbed the heel of your foot to lift it and slipped one stiletto on over your toes before securing it onto the heel he held and repeated the same steps with the other foot. Never in your life has someone redressed you after sex. And it would probably never happen again. He looked you up and down, and then stood, making his way to the door. Pivoting on his heel, he faced you one final time.

"Take care (Y/N)." And then he disappeared, leaving the door slightly ajar. You listened as his heavy foot steps grew fainter and fainter until they were gone completely. You sat in shock, still processing his final acts of kindness and how he simply vanished almost as quickly as he showed up. You resisted the immense urge to chase after him, cling to him and beg him to stay. You wanted to ask him more questions, get to know and understand him more fully. But that is exactly what he didn't want. Your heart started to ache and you held your chest in an attempt to soothe the unfamiliar pain but to no avail. You felt like you had just lost someone close to you. If not that, then you felt like you had lost the opportunity to fall in love, assuming you hadn't already. But his logic made sense. Someone like him could never get too close to anyone. And surely, not to someone the likes of you. Tears pricked at your waterline, but none fell.

"Goodbye, Levi." You whispered to yourself, knowing that he couldn't hear you. The clock started ticking again.

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