tw: SMUT, (soft smut), newlyweds, virgin reader, fem!Bodied reader, Oral sex, fem!rec, I just wrote this so not proofread.
w.c: 2.3k
The happiest day of your life, the day you read your vows to each other, before an altar, with so many witnesses sharing your joy, but the only ones that matter were he and you. Two mawkish lovey-doveys, inebriated in each other; the sappy couple you swore you’d never become. And here you are, a stumbling tangle of limbs, sprauchling on every wall and every corner of the hallway, tearing your lips apart. Anxious fingers searching and finding, sneaking through any opening. The floor brims with rose petals and flickering candles, tracing the path that leads to your hotel room.
The faint light captures the glint of the gold bands on your left ring fingers. Boozed up mesh of laughs floods the air.
You duck into your room, and without breaking the kiss, Levi shuts the door close with a back-kick. The loud thud rumbles through the corridor.
“Levi!” You cry and pull away, rubbing a finger over your smudged, bitten lip.
Laughter bubbles out from his throat. Lovely sound. And he shrugs his blazer off, then his vest letting them pool at his feet.
He looks at you, his fingertips lingering along your ears, while your svelte finger slips under his bow tie, the strap unclasps and it flumps down. Levi removes the bobby pins with such daintiness, making your braids fall out, tiny white flowers tumble from you hair, littering the mahogany wooden floor like stars twinkling in the sky. You fondle his cotton-clad shoulders and upper arms as he, without breaking eye contact slides his hands behind your back, looking for the lace that keeps your dress in place; he tugs at it, finally, and the bow loses its shape. He spins you around, and you lift your hair; his breath caresses your nape, and his lips come closer, smothering with kisses your neck and naked shoulders.
Butterflies flit in your stomach, just like the first time you met.
“I love you,” he whispers, his voice raspy and smooth at the same time, making heat rise to your cheeks, between your legs.
“I love you too,” you muse. You’re trembling, dizzy with eagerness and agitation.
Deft fingers loosen the corset, with the patience of an old granny counting coins to buy a loaf of bread. The cord slips through the grommets and then his scorching palms glide between your dress and your sensitive flesh, cleaving the panels open. The hefty, white, pompous gown rumples around your legs.
You swirl around.
“Beautiful,” he mutters, and you feel shy under his dull gaze, eyes dawdling gingerly over your body, dressed in lacy lingerie. He hoists you in his arms, making his way to the bed, your legs anchored around his waist, your heels tapping on his butt cheeks. Arms tethered behind his neck, tongues urgently fighting for dominance. You can feel the excitement growing under his pants
He scuffs off one patent leather shoe, his free rayon-clad toes push down the other oxford at the heel and he drops you on the bed, your legs dangling over the end. He crouches down, and lifts your right foot first, resting it on his thigh, slips off the white strap through the buckle and tosses away the heel. He repeats the process for the other foot. Then raises your leg lightly, his mouth strides from your knee down to your ankle, drawing a trail of moist kisses, and retraces his steps. Giggles dribble from you. His lips tickle your thigh as they move upward, and his teeth hook at the white garter, pulling at it and letting it spring back; he chases it, and drags it down, slowly, until it dangles in your toes and slips down.
His lips find yours again and he shifts you to the center of the bed, his fingers brushing like feathers over your ribs, then your waist, as you undo the buttons of his shirt. He leans back, sitting on his heels and pulls it off, the silver glow that seeps through the window baths his perfectly chiseled body in luster as a marble sculpture.
The buckle of his belt clatters on the floor, he slips off the bed and wiggles his black slacks down, then crawls back and kneels between your legs.
“You’re gorgeous, Levi.” You stretch out your arms, making grabby hands. “Let me touch you.”
He smirks, and hovers over you, his hands denting the mattress at the sides of your head. You look like a goddess, hair sprawled, laying beneath him in that sexy lingerie, in the middle of the scattered red petals. His nose nudges on your cheek as your fingertips map his naked chest and abs, burning his skin like molten wax, his muscles rippling under your touch. His nose strolls down along your jawline, and tips your chin up, planting kisses leisurely on your neck, grazing that thrumming spot.
Your blood fizzes through your veins, igniting every inch of your body, from flesh to bone. “I want you, Levi.” You mewl, lolling your head to the side so his mouth continues the blissful onslaught under your jaw.
Levi pulls apart a bit, grips your jaw and forces you to look at him. He scans your face. Your cheeks are flushed pink, specks of white quail on your dilated pupils, faint puffs of breath sip out of your already worn out lips. While engrossed in your beauty, your sneaky hand finds the hem of his underwear and slip under, in quest of what you covet now. Your fingers curled around him, eliciting a cloying gasp; hips jerk up. He’s girthy, and oozing, and a drop of panic smears in your lower belly.
“Not yet,” he tows your hand off and hauls you up and unclasps your bra after a few attempts. His fumbling hands cup your breast, nipples tautened with desire rolling between his fingers, and a reel of moans spools off your mouth. You lurch back, propped in your arms, head hanging backwards, brows twitching. You feel his knuckles brushing down past your navel as his tongue teases and swirls around your hardened nubs. Desire pools between your thighs; your core aches with greed.
“Ah! Levi, please!” You tilt your head down and look at him having fun with your breasts. You run your fingers through his hair and clench your hand, pushing him down to where you need him the most. “Levi!” You wail, as he nibbles on your perky bud, refusing to leave. He pulls apart by a bit, gazing up to you, your nipple captive between his teeth. He lets go, simpering, and drags his lips back to yours.
He pushes you down on bed.
“Y/N.” he utters against your mouth.
“Y/N.” Against your collarbones.
“Y/N.” Your navel.
“Y/N.” Over your clothed mound.
He´ll never grow tired of saying your name.
A grin blooms on his lips when he catches the transparent spot on the crotch. His eyes glint with need, and you can't help but blush with embarrassment.
“Don’t be shy.” His palms saunter over your inner thighs as he buries his nose in your wetness. “I’m so hard I don’t think I’ll last too long. And you´re the cause,” he mumbles, and takes a deep breath, your sweet arousal awakening his primal side and shutting down any trace of self-restraint. Damn, he wants to be inside you so bad, but he needs to try you first. He pushes your panties to the side, and shears with a finger the cord of slick that lingers between your skin and the lingerie. His length twitches. Shit, he’s going to blow out before any fun begins.
But it’s your fault, you turn him into a madman without even trying.
Your hips jiggle at the first lap of his tongue running between your folds, legs squirm, something coils within your core. Your eyes squeeze shut, face turned to the side, mouth drawing a beautiful O as he feasts in you, like a famished man savoring a copious meal after several days without taking a bite.
His name falls of your mouth as his playful tongue and lips explore uncharted territory. He pulls away and strokes your swollen clit over the fabric, your hips rocking, seeking the delightful friction.
“Don’t st- No!”
He cruelly lets the knot in your belly unravel, all the bliss dwindling.
“I’m sorry,” he coos, his fingers anchored at the hem of your underwear. You buck up your hips and he pulls down that meddlesome piece. Completely bared and unfurled for him. A piece of art worth for his private museum.
He doesn’t waste time. He spreads open your folds with his thumbs, your enlarge glossy clit, longing for attention. And he listens to it. His lips seize it, his tongue laps and draws circles over it, pushing you to the edge. Your body writhes; your legs tense, your knuckles whiten as your hands clench in the sheets.
“Levi! Fu- Ah!” You gasp at the finger plunging into you, but it’s not enough to appease your need and he knows it. He adds a second digit, prodding, scissoring, chasing after each other, stroking that spongy spot as he’s mouth works on your clit. Your eyes clamped shut tight, you feel meteors bursting behind them. It’s intense, fierce, the sizzling now boils within you until it erupts like a volcano, and for a few seconds, you’re swarmed by pure elation.
Your chest rises and fall wildly, your breath whizzes out in staggered pants, and your face is sleek in sweat. Through the haze, you find Levi staring up at you, sweeping his tongue over his coated lips. You see it in his eyes, he can’t hold back anymore.
In a second, he gets rid of his underwear, his cock springs freely, the throbbing tip whisking his lower belly, and a crisp line of black tuft that begins under his belly button, marches down to the base of his erection. He peels down the foreskin, and shit, he’s beautiful, big and thick, and your eager and nervous to have him.
His hardness skims your belly as he kisses you, and you can taste yourself in his lips. Sweet and bitter. He inches back, and your eyes entangle, his hand smoldering your cheek. His voice is serious. “I’ll be gentle.” Kiss. “Let me know if it’s too much.” Kiss. “You know I fucking love you.” Kiss. “And the last thing I want is to hurt you.” Kiss.
You nod, the back of your hand brushes his cheek with tenderness. “I love you too,” you croon, “and I trust you.”
He guides himself, looking for your entrance, and you feel him poking. Panic rises. You close your eyes, and he rolls his hips forward, painfully slow, and your body puts resistance to the unfamiliar intrusion. Levi stills, watching every reaction on your face. Your body is all tense. His hand entwines with yours for reassurance and you squeeze. He squeezes back.
“You have to relax,” he purrs, strands of black hair prick your forehead, his breath fanning over your neck. Beads of sweat trickle down his face. Your free hand claws on his shoulders, threatening to etched red marks.
Tears peek at the corners of your eyes. You take a deep breath, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, and, with resolve, you buck your hips up in a howl of pain. Levi grunts and hisses at the tight warmth that envelops him; inch by inch, he sheathes himself into you. Hot blood dashes through his veins as he fights the urge to shove himself into you in a quick, single thrust.
With a thumb, he sweeps away your tears.
“Levi,” your voice is a quavering lament, your face contorted in pain as he breaches you, breath hitching; your walls blazing in sweet agony. And then your pelvises meet, and he stops and stills. Trembling, waiting for you to adapt.
“You’re doing great.” He tugs down your lower lip, eyes droopy, leaden with love and lust. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” He spews and captures your lips again. Your hand meander along the slope of his spine. Despite the waning pain, you know you’re a perfect fit. Made for each other.
His face reels back, enough to take a glimpse of your face, to make sure you’re ok, tears dried, and a faint smile tugs at your lips.
“You can move.” You say.
He rakes his fingers through your hair, toying with your locks for a moment, before finding your hand again. He wants to reach your peaks with your hands weaved together. He drops his head to kiss you and only then, he begins to work himself in and out at a languid pace, relishing in your moist and the friction, taking his time because he doesn’t want to explode just yet.
Your back arches as the pain gives way to pleasure; brimming, rolling heat. Your nails rake down, painting red lines on his back. Groans and moans rise in a dazzling melody. Your melody. His deep grunts getting in tune with your highest notes.
Your name seeps out of his lips in jagged whispers, melting in your hair. His breathing quickens as his tempo rises, and your body tightens around him, driven over the edge, for the second time, by the rocking of his hips.
Your hands squeeze each other as if they’d melt together.
You coil, tighter and tighter, and then, jolts of pleasure break through you, seizing every inch of your body, and your orgasm wrenches his right after. He fills you with his seed and collapses over you, but doesn’t roll away. He stays, with an idiotic smile plastered on his face, and reaches out, sweeping a lock of hair from your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. He kisses you on the forehead, and your both let giggles rumble in your throats. His thumb fondles the back of your hand, drawing feeble circles, then brings it to his mouth and presses a kiss on top of the band.
“Are you ok, Mrs. Ackerman?” He watches you watching him through eyes leaden with weariness, dozing. Yet, you pull out a smile.
A twine of limbs and jagged breaths stomp into the room. The primal need claws at the two desperate lovers impatient to tear off their skin, clinging to each other like the eternal lovers of Pompeii. Hot ash and magma, from their own Vesuvius, belch into the air with baying roars. Voracious lips; disrupting kisses. Deafening moans. Hands that look for any unguarded passage to claim what’s theirs. But you part ways before you die, suffocated by uncurbed desire. You turn around as Levi locks the door. Your jaw drops; your eyes pop open. A turmoil of panic and exhilaration churns your stomach as you descry the wooden table–sprawled where your bed is supposed to be–covered in black cloth, fitted with leather restraints at each corner, the metal pins, and buckles glint under the dingy light. The room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of a few flickering candles scattered on the floor and on your vanity, adding more to the sense of somber gloom. The curtains are closed and motionless. The magic wand, as you call it, perched next to the bucket of ice on the nightstand, as well as a wicked looking knife. Sweet vanilla suffuses the dense air, swaddling the smell of your piquant scent.
Your dew anoints the top of your thighs, and you rub them together, delving for a bite of leverage.
"Who lit up the candles?" you ask.
"Mara. She left right before we trudge into the building. She won't be back till Monday morning."
You blush. "She won't leave me alone."
"She ordered the straps too."
"Levi!" Now it all make sense: the mocking glances and the suspicious giggles.
You turn your face in his direction as he takes his jacket off and perches it on your coat hanger. “What did you do to my bed?” You demand, your eyebrows sinking into a frown, but Levi only smirks, filling the space between the two, curling his fingers around your arms, and jabs his forehead on yours. He takes a step forward, obliging you to take a step backward and you go on in your improvised dance, until the wall gets in your way. His body pressed tight into you. Your thrumming heart ducks into your throat; your chest feels tight, your legs tremble like jelly. Your defiant look belies the agitation swarming within you.
You, always so impulsive, might try something once you put the pieces together and conceive what’s going to happen next. And such fierce resistance would be delightful to break tonight.
He nabs your wrists in one unyielding fist above your head. The knuckles of his free hand linger down along your jaw to your chin and tilt your face up. Your quailing eyes bump with his, his dilated pupils blotting out the steel gray of his irises, flashing with hunger and mischief. You don't need an exhaustive scan to understand he’s in for a treat.
First arousal, next confusion, and then distress.
He exults over the sight before him. Your lips part slightly, trepidation in shape of agitated puffs brush out at the rhythm of your heaving chest. Eyes wide open, pupils dim and expanded in which he can narcissistically see a devilish grin drawing in his lips.
The realization of what’d happen to you tonight has the exact effect he was looking for: your inner submissive need fighting to take over.
The edges of your world blur and shrink into this room. The glint of the metal in the soft light, the pleasant and calming scent of the candles and the gasping sound of your unstable breathing.
“Don’t worry about that. We won't need it.” He whispers in that sultry voice that weakens you, melts you and makes you drip hard. His warm breath, laced with oak and caramel, moseys along your trembling lips. The tip of his nose rubs your cheek playfully, moving down, nuzzling his face into your neck. With zero gentleness, he grips your jaw and yanks your head to the side to seek more access.
He pushes into you just a bit harder, prodding his hardness against your belly. You can feel the wreath of tension about to explode under his pants, pairing your impatience. You’ve been fantasizing all day in his big, fat cock stretching you pussy and filling you to the brim. He must have found a cheap excuse to leave work early and set the surprise before meeting you at the restaurant.
You rock your hips forward, and he lurches back in response, furrowing his eyes. “Don’t” He scoffs, the edge of his tone is a hushed threat that pulls you out of the dizzy spin of relief. He wants to have fun with you before giving you what you crave.
He kisses and sucks your sensitive skin, drinking your scent, not your perfume, but you, the one that unleashes his primitive side, driving him to the point of no return. He sucks and gnaws, making sure to leave his stamp on you.
His hand runs down your body, your waist, your hips. His touch gets lost over your flaring skirts and then reappears on your knee, sauntering leisurely along your thigh, climbing higher and higher. And he finds it.
“Levi!” You let out a whimper of surprise as his thumb rolfs your clit through your dampened underwear, inflicting the right pressure to make you squirm and moan his name in a string. With his patent leather clad foot, he shuffles your feet apart, and your stiletto heels give a warning wobble, but he tightens his clasp around your wrists so you don’t scramble.
Heat springs in your eager pussy, imploring to be fill, and just as if he could read your mind, but with the patience to enjoy every second of your ordeal, he tugs the crotch of your panties to the side and feathers down his svelte fingers, parting your folds.
“You’re a pathetic dripping mess.” His groans fall into the crook of your neck, his breathing is controlled and steady, contrasting your reckless gasps, reminding you who is in charge.
And then, a honed pain pierces in your neck. “LEVI!” you moan loud, jerking at the intrusion— two fingers, knuckles deep—at the same time his sharp teeth sink into the spot in your neck that pulsates with frenzy. You throw your head back, and a dull pain bangs in your skull. You hold back your whines, wrestling to break free from his clinch, but he toughens it as he fingerfucks your tight little cunt. His digits wiggle, swirl, scissor, wheedling lewd squelching sounds as he works them in an out, pads jabbing against your flitting walls.
Prickles graze your stiff hands, but he doesn’t loosen his grip.
Choking in sobs, your back lashes against the wall; your writhing legs begin to close instinctively against the onslaught. His head inches away from the cradle of your neck and he haughtily stares at you, shaking his head. He rams two more fingers into you, and before wringing out a crude wail, his mouth crashes on yours without asking for permission to plunge his tongue inside. His kiss is rough, demanding, threatening to tear your lips off, devouring you with so much craze as he needed you more than air. His thumb joins the feast, fiddling with your swollen clit.
“FUCK LEVIIIII!!!” You turn your face away, hissing, wincing, your eyes squeezing impossibly tight. You heart is running a marathon. Blood fizzes and dashes to your core, coiling into a fireball, blistering to burst. Your pussy clasp around his fingers, your hips withering in despair. “Ah!-oh!-a–” Your jaw locks open in the middle of a whimper.
But he pushes the emergency stop. As fast as pleasure built, it dwindles. “No!No!No! Fuck, No! come back!” You shriek as he retreats his sleek hand from under your skirts, and brings it to his nose, boozing up in your scent.
You still, jaw slacked open, staring at him with big glassy eyes, all the bliss ebbing back to the sea. “What the…” Your quavering voice wedges between pants, your chest puffing in and out with rage; beads of sweat trickle down your temples.
He grimly smirks as his fingers curl on your jaw, shifting your head from side to side. Then, he swoops two stained fingers into your open mouth, making you gag, and you swirl your tongue and hum at your luscious fruity essence. A cord of drool whips over your chin. Just before he pries them out, your last spark of insurgency sways you, and you clamp your teeth at the tip of his fingers.
Levi didn’t flinch. No, he extricates his hand and grins. You know he likes challenges, a briery turn on. “So, you still want to put a fight then, uh?” He tips his head to the side, stroking your face flimsily, disguising his intentions.
A chilled bead of sweat rolls down your back as he reels closer. “If you want to come, you gotta behave.” He rasps as his lips crawl over your cheek.
You nod and mumble, “I’ll be your good girl, Levi.”
“Good.” He frees your wrists, and blood flows back to your tips, bringing back a healthy tone to your hands. Levi forcefully spins you around, pushing you by the shoulders so your cheek and breasts are strained against the wall. He swiftly unzips your dress and slips his scorching palms beneath the back panels, spreading them open, sliding the puffy sleeves along your arms, and yanks the gown down from your waist to the floor. A sly leer grazes his face as he encounters the lace G-string. The cool air makes you shudder, and again he holds captive your arms with a fist, this time behind your back. The metallic buckle clinks, and his deft hands quickly clip the belt around your wrists, so tight to make sure the leather mangle your skin at the subtle move.
“If I’m naked, you should be too.”
“Tonight, I set the rules.” You spot the tinge of menace in his husky voice, scourging your ears like sandpaper. “Or did you already forget what you said?”
“It’s hard to think straight when you’re screwing me.”
“Do you regret it then?”
You clear your throat. “No.”
And a mewl clogs in your throat.
The clash of skin-to-skin pierces through the room, your butt cheek burning with the shape of his palm. “Levi!” A second slap mauls your right ass cheek; another charring smack on your left, and he alternates the slaps, mesmerized in the jiggle of your ass. The first two caused you to stop struggling, your legs tense up in the shocking whips. The following shoves back in your mouth the presumptuous nudge of ‘is that all what you got?’ By the eighth, your moans become cries of woe, unshed tears prickling your eyes. Ten and he stops. He leans back to admire his handiwork. The blazing red handprints etched on your skin are a sight to behold. He lets out a hoity-toity snort when he spots the glisten between your thighs.
Your heart jackhammers in your chest; your breath comes out in muffled gasps as the fervid jolts of endorphins catch you out of guard. The memory of the prickling pain coupled with the throbbing heat of his handprints shoots shivers of arousal across your center. The chasm between pain and pleasure staples together, letting you move freely from side to side.
A punitive flare spreads over your scalp, wringing out a pleading cry. His hand twists your hair, fists it and pulls you upright. You hitch in pain, afraid that the slightest move would rip your hair off.
“You’re not going anywhere, my sweetheart.” He intimidates in a low growl.
“Levi…” You sniff, a single tear streams down your cheek.
Your hair cascades, and he flings it over your shoulder. “I’ll turn you into a true work of art,” he purrs, clamping his hands in the squishy flesh of your butt, and squeezes, spreading your ill-treated cheeks apart, loving the view of your white G-string running along the crack. He hooks a finger in the string and pulls it towards him, forcing out a feeble whine as the crotch strangles your puffy lips and folds.
The string springs back in place, and he drops his head onto your shoulder, pinning you between his chest and the wall. His warmth seeps out throughout the weave of his white shirt.
His ticklish lips ramble over your bare shoulder, supple caresses that mismatch what he’s planned for the main dish.
A spool of gasps dribble from your mouth as his hands lazily traipse over your body, your hips, and butt, the small of your back, melting everything in their way. Your muscles twitch under his gentle touch, crawling over your shoulder blades and upper arms, and he separates you a little from the wall to slide his palms over your chest, cupping, kneading your breasts.
“We’re just getting started, my beautiful Y/N.” A kiss on your nape. “And before we’re done,” a kiss on the spot beneath your ear, “you’ll be begging me to stop.”
“I don’t think so.” You hedge. “I’m sure I can handle it.” A pinch on your nips sends electrifying jerks of pain, ramping up your delight. He tugs and rolls and tweaks your taut nubs, pressing his straining erection against your butt, grinding in endeavor to relief his own torment. He grunts, rolling his hips with urgency. Lewd sounds rumbling off his throat shoot daggers of ecstasy through you. He sounds pretty. You can imagine his balmy face, his pink parted lips, his droopy eyelids, the flush on his cheeks contrasting against his pallor. His cute whines melt with your own raucous moans.
Before shooting, he stops moving.
Fuck, his balls feel heavy, and he can’t wait to empty himself in you.
He shakes his head, dredging his reveries before he blows off, and hefts you forcefully over his shoulder, your legs kicking for freedom as he crosses the room, and dumps you against the table. “Ouch!” The hard surface mauls your upper back, your hair sprawled out crowning your head, a portray of his own Aphrodite.
He crawls over you, building a jail between his arms, his knees resting on each side of your thighs. He kisses you properly this time. His mouth slicks over yours. He’s sweet and gentle, whispering I love you in a kiss, like when you kiss cuddling in bed before a nap. But the affection is fickle, and his raw side takes over. He forces his urgent tongue in your mouth fighting for dominance with yours, teeth clashing, lips drenched. He uses one hand for support while the other quashes one boob, your downy skin bulges out between his squeezy fingers. He captures the other and pampers it too before moving down on your ribcage and navel. A moment later, it travels up once more, thumb flicking over your marred nipple, sending little darts of lightning through your nerve endings.
Frustrated that you can’t prod him too, you nip his tongue. He jars off, and you arch to chase his lips. As your sight adjusts to the gloom, you point out the gleam in his eyes, the white of his teeth as he grins.
His hand around your neck yanks you back on the table. “I set the rules here, sweetheart.” He bellows, his palm closing around your throat. A tingle seizes your hands and feet, swiftly infecting your limbs. A vein in your temple throbs, the thrumming quickens as your face slathers with red, cheeks burn. You feel your eyes about to snap out as a pang explodes in the middle of your face. Your legs flounder as you gasp for air like a fish out of the water. Your body rattles wildly the legs of the table screech on the floor.
“Please…” Your eyes roll up, “Le-“
“You don’t want to go down that road.” He says with menace.
A Sorry gets hampered in your throat, the word drifts to your head, but you can’t wrench it out from the tip of your tongue.
Instead, you writhe and tug on your restraints vehemently; a numbing coldness runs through your legs.
He retrieves, and a gust of air dashes straight to your lungs. Muffled explosive breaths. He slips off the table, and you watch him, following his motions as his fingers fumble under his collar and loosens his cravat free. He steers behind and places a tender kiss on your forehead. Pulling away by a fraction, he rests a palm on your cheek. “I know you’re hungry for my cock, but we go at my pace.” His voice, a soothing whisper. His eyes flicker around as he lolls his head to the side. “I want to inspect you first. You’ve been a good girl, haven’t you?” Glinting with deviltry, his eyes drift back to you.
“Yeah.” You gulp as his thumb strokes your cheek with tenderness.
“Let’s see.” He inches back and cradles your head, staring intently at you.
“Green?”
“Green”
And he proceeds to strap the white cravat over your eyes, rolling the fabric around your head, and knots it tight behind, shutting the blinds of your world. Deprived of your sight, a sudden surge of despair bristles the tiny hairs behind your neck. Your breath was suddenly louder in your ears, your senses raging out, trying to listen to him, moving around the room, working out what he’s doing.
“What kind of maniac wears cravats these days Levi?” You quip, but he dodges it.
You feel his fingers whisking along the hem of your sexy lingerie. He tugs it down a bit to get a glimpse. “You waxed, how convenient.”
He runs a finger along the crease where your thigh fuses with your pelvis–teasing strokes–and you mewl, bucking your hips, hoping he might insert at least one in your aching hole and ease the plight, or give attention to your swollen clit, pulsing and twitching, feeling neglected.
But he has other plans hatched in mind. Like feathers, his fingertips brush lightly on your inner thighs, up and down, soundly, and all the sudden, his nails dig in your outer thighs and rake down, scarring bright red marks—temporary brands proclaiming you are his. You hiss, twisting in the scorching pain, but to redeem himself, he hooks his hands behind your knees, raise your legs—calves pressed on the back of your thighs— and douses your shins and feet with open mouth kisses. His sweet caresses trail up and down from your knees to your ankles, again and again, ‘sorrys’ slipping out his mouth amid his kisses. The straps of your heels loosen, and they slip off your feet, hitting the floor with a dull clap.
Click. Click.
You like where this is going. You’re swooning at the vulnerability.
Leather straps swaddle your ankles, splaying your legs wide. His mouth froths at the translucid stain glistening on your crotch.
Levi takes a step back, sweeping his tongue over his lips, marveling in the view unfurled before him. Stretched out, spread eagled lies his beautiful Y/N. The dim light of the candles coats your burnished skin in luster marble as if you were a Hellenic sculpture. He watches you writhing on the table, testing the bonds.
Now it’s time for the real fun begin. He’s been heartily waiting all day for this, fantasizing at work, withholding himself from locking in the bathroom and jerk off. He’s been daydreaming of teasing you relentlessly, to rob your mind of everything thought but your desire to come. He wants to reduce you to a sobbing, pleading mess, and once wrenched and broken, he might let you finish.
He moves around the room; you can tell by his footsteps he’s padding toward your nightstand, and a hollow twinge scrapes at your chest and spreads throughout your body. The wand, the knife, the bucket of ice.
His steps are heavy; perhaps is your hearing sharpening. You wallow in the restraints, the edges of the belt hewing your wrists. A gush of dread freezes your body, toes curled rigid they cramp. He lightly traces the pointy cold metal inside your thighs with enough pressure to sting and leave a thin redline, but not to slice your skin. He watches the streams of goosebumps breaking out, and you feel it going up, slow and steady, reaching the moist.
“Lev…” You twitch when you feel the edge of the blade against your pussy.
“I’d stay very still if I were you,” he growls, “the last I want is to damage you, pretty thing.” Your heart slams in your ribcage. Grinning as all your fright drowns into a whimper, he heedfully scrapes the knife back and forth on your abdomen. Your teeth drill on your bottom lip and holding your breath, you tuck your belly in so hard you feel your navel touch the table. He rotates it, and now the tip is pressed against your flesh, marching up, trailing to your right breast.
Your chin trembles, crimson spots glistens on your lip.
“Don’t move,” he slurs, placing a reassuring palm on your shoulder. Your nipples tighten with the bleak fear that coils in your stomach, as he presses the pricking tip on your oversensitive skin, moving it around your taut areola. You suck in your whimpers, and he withdraws; however, the layer of relief doesn’t last long. He grips your hair, clenching tight, and pulls your head to the side, denting your cheek with the edge of the knife. “You don’t seem to find scars repugnant.” He rasps, and your eyes snap open. A tear rolls, peeking out from under the blindfold, and continues its way down to your cheek, glinting as it slides along the edge of the blade.
Levi lets out a chuckle and draws back, yet you know he’s far from done with this game.
“You were that scared, weren’t you?”
“Fuck you,” you bark, hauling up by a wedge, muscles clenched across your belly. “You said you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“And did I?”
You gulp, “N-no.”
You feel a hand draping around your neck, his thumb stroking your chin. He leans closer and plants a kiss on your cheek, then bring his mouth to your ear. “Do you want to stop?”
No.
You’re a little slut craving his cock. If you stop, you won’t get what you want. He had you weltering in his net.
He doesn’t need to hear your answer. He knows you that well.
“My hands,” you maffle. “Too tight.”
“Ok.”
He tows you into a sitting position and sets your hands free, your wrists roughed up and chipped, burning where he touches. Your face contorts in pain, and a soft groan leaps off your mouth.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he coos, smothering the side of your head in flimsy kisses.
Levi lays you back. Positioning your arms stretched out above your head, he cuffs your hands not so tight that the straps would hurt you, but tight enough so you don't escape.
“Better?”
“Uh-huh.”
He veers around the table, his fingers walking lazily over your body, from your breasts, sauntering down, and…
“Good.”
The sharpness reappears over your thigh, slowly drawing up to your hips, and he twists the knife flap, slips it under the edge of your panties and in a deft motion, he slices outwards through the cloth.
Another shear, and he pulls away the now ruined pretty fabric. He sees from your heavy breathing and clenched muscles the rush of adrenaline re coursing through your veins.
“I’ll buy you another one.” He mocks, too bad he can’t see your eyes throwing daggers at him.
You mewl out of the thrill of being so forcefully exposed; the vulnerability, stripped of any covering, having your most intimate parts exposed, spread wide open and at his mercy. Bound with no inch of give. Ripped off your sight, not knowing what would come next. The anticipation; the perversion. A heat wave creeps across your cheeks to the tip of your ears, the excitement growing in tandem with fear.
Sweat, mixed with the natural musk between your legs, floats in the room. Your arousal is taking a different quality unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Wedging between pain and pleasure, and not being fully aware of your surroundings. You feel you’re drifting away; your body tethered to the bed and your mind running free, exploring places your never thought to look for, concentrating on where the next strike would come.
And you love the amalgam of new sensations enfolding you. You and Levi have always been so vanilla. Levi screwing you from behind being the roughest sex you've experienced. Thus, one afternoon, scrolling through kinky blogs, this idea grew roots in your head. You still remember when you told Levi with some embarrassment quavering your voice, and he just looked at you wide eyed; but soon after, his bewilderment faltered, and he whispered that he’d do it only if he was free to do what he wanted. And you, succumbing to his captivating gaze, the one that always makes you tremble, gave him the green light.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He spews as for himself, enthralled, freezing the picture in his head to be framed and displayed in his mental museum, and tour the exhibition as many times as he’d like to. He could end the game now, drop his pants and pound into you. All night long, coming inside you until his balls shrink and dry, slipping in and out in a froth of his release, until his shaft and your walls, battered and burning, raise the white flag.
He keeps murmuring nonsense, and you’re trapped in your stream of thoughts you don’t hear the stir, nor him plodding around.
“Holy fuck!” You shriek, hips thrash at the sharp sting tracing slackly circles around your belly button, an ice-cold bite that cajoles a weave of moans and hisses from you. You feel it slide over your ribcage, nibbling at your bones through gaunt skin. It moves to your breast, surrounds it, over your sternum before grazing the other. Biting your lip, you turn your head to the side as it sears along your collarbone, swaying from shoulder to shoulder. Not too painful; not quite pleasurable, but it directs your attention until the ice pares and it’s gone. In your mind’s eye you visualize the little ice cube gripped in his tapered fingers, skidding over your skin. You gasp, trying to guess where it’d come next.
He takes another one, puts it in his mouth and leans closer.
“Leviiii!!!” You bark out a howling cry as the cold burn pierces your nipple. You fight the restraints, back thrashing as the cold burn breaks through the taut bundle of nerves. Your breath snags, and your arms tense, but soon the warmth of his mouth encroaches you, his tongue laving over your tortured bud, water trickling down your tender hill. He sucks and inches back, releasing the tiny pebble with a popping sound.
You feel his fingers trailing across your tense skin as he revels in the soft moans and goosebumps he gets in return. His hand strides further down, finger pads dancing lazily on your hip bone, and your hips lurch with optimism, but he skips the place where you long to be touch.
“What if…” he trails, smiling coyly at the idea flickering in his head.
You hear him stir the ice bucket.
“I’d like to put ice in some other places,” he whispers, “places that are always hot and see how fast it melts.”
Horror crawls under your skin. You could say red and stop, yet the decadence of his intentions sparks your curiosity. Your face grows hotter at the aberration flashing in your head, and you can feel your cunt dripping harder. You can’t deny you’re enjoying this, this side of him that likes you being cuffed and subjected; and this side of you that enjoys being cuffed and subjected to any of his schemes.
And right then, you feel his tongue flicking rapidly and lightly between your drenched folds, a torturous gauzy stroke that leaves you longing for more. And he hears your call; he lashes out with more determination. His tongue flat sweeps all your juices from the bottom up, pressing his mouth once he reaches the top, and slurps in, taking a long sloppy swig that smudges his chin. He reels back a little, gentle fingers press your labia apart and down, and with a quick swipe of his tongue, he unhoods your clit, the puffy little gem hard as stone. He takes it in his mouth, sucking it, flicking with his tongue as you drive your mound into his face, grinding against him. You quiver, arching your body, begging for more.
He knows exactly where to push to drive you crazy. An electric whir grazes your legs, making them wriggle. Toting at the bonds, the straps chop your ankles.
“Ohhhhh Levi, you feel so good, it feels so good,” you bleat, feeling the raising itch in your core. Your pussy clench around nothing, and when you’re about to erupt, he steps back.
“NOOO!!!” you squeal.
“It’s too early for your to come.”
The tides of bliss wane again. You just want to push him in the face for his unbridled assholery. Before tonight, Levi had never denied you an orgasm, but when he closed the door and you spun around, you knew it was part of his devious plan. To have you longing. Craving. Begging.
“But–“ Cold torches your bruised lips. He stuffs ice cubes in your mouth, and your tongue, purling around them, counts five. “Mmmhhhh…mmhhhhh.”
“Keep quiet.” He pats your cheek and shushes you, and your heart hammers between your back and chest.
Seconds later he was feasting again on your pussy, as if he was famished man, eating for the first time after a famine. And the first ice stroke comes on your mound. Your back jounces, and then, he replaces his tongue for ice, nipping your bulgy drenched folds, wangling out a strangled sound that threats to choke you.
You toss your head to the side and spill all the water, and a fierce yowl pierces through the room when he nudges the bitter tip directly on your exposed clit. Your body slams against the table. Hauling at the manacles, you feel they might yield, but they don’t. He pops the melting ice in his mouth with two more ice cubes, and then is when you feel his thumb and forefinger glide down to your entrance. He spreads it open, leans down, aware of your reaction, and crams the ice into you. You jolt, screaming at the chill horns in your warmth, spreading from your core outward, freezing you from inside out.
His mouth captures your clit again as he shoves a finger inside, moving the ice around, then another, stretching your pussy as he laves and swirls his nimble tongue. The pleasure skyrockets, the motions on your clit match the rhythm of his fingers pumping in and out. The frost soon fades, sloshes of waters squirt out as he continues finger fucking you, eating you out.
You contort your face, lewd noises and cries flee from your parted lips, your muscles pulled in so tight you know you’ll be all sore next morning. The cloud of pure bliss rolls over you, and he increases the pace, filling you with hopes. You’re so close. A little bit more.
And he stops, leaving you hanging again. His fingers and tongue retreat, leaving you sobbing, and unfulfilled.
“I’ll decide when you come, sweetie.” His voice is coated with honey.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
A firm hand sneaks in the inside of your thighs before it is replaced with the cool hardness of the wand, your wand, the one that grants you solace in the lonely nights.
Levi hates it, you knew you were doomed the moment you saw it. He must’ve been rummaging in your drawers before when he set the stage for tonight.
The handle of the vibrator sinks in your soft flesh as he ties it around your leg with another restraint. He pulls at the straps, adjusting it, making sure it is tight against your center, pressed to your chafed clit.
And he turns it on.
“At least you think of me?”
Your muscles tensed at the low buzz, shifting into the fleeting vibrations, but he left it on at the lowest speed. It’s more of a tickling sensation, nothing that would get you off. You pout, swallowing your complaints to earn what you yearn. A couple of minutes later, warm hands begin to meander over your body. Up the inside of your legs, down the curves of your waist; the pads of his fingers dawdling gingerly around your breasts. When you felt a hand around your throat again, a bolt of panic burst through you, but this time he squeezes lightly before coming up to cup your cheeks in his hands, reeling closer to plant a gentle kiss on your lips. An orgy of warm sensations, sooths and ignites every inch of your skin. A pleading whimper leaps of your lips when he pulls away, and you wait impatiently, breathlessly for his hands to pamper you again, wondering where it was going to be. Your whole body eager for it.
“I do,” Sometimes. Others you watch porn or read thirsty stories, but he doesn’t have to know that.
But his hands don’t come back to you. Instead, he pitilessly switches on the speed of the wand several notches, and your sore bud begins to thrum.
You hitch a breath at the abrupt and shocking change. Your thighs clench, wanting to close against the torturing vibrations, but the leather binds lacerate your skin at each twisting strain. He forces your hips down with one hand. Racking sobs scrape your throat. Your neck arches back tilting from side to side, tendons stand out in your neck. “LEVIIII!” You yelp, writhing, with nothing at your reach to ease from your punishment.
At the wand turned up at a higher speed, your body goes rigid. Your back arches and stills. Arms and legs draw taut, collarbones showing knobs through your flesh. You want the restraints off so you could slip away from the torturous and frigid strokes. The wave retreats to come back and crash with more energy. You are in the brink of detonation; you need to release the tension coiled inside you but–
“Don’t you fucking dare to come without my permission.”
“May I come?” Your query, more like a plead, is instantaneous.
And his was just as fast. “No.” You let out a frustrated little growl, pulling uselessly on your restraints. And you feel his fingertips run along the creases of your ear, so gentle, as if that would make up for his sins. He sniggers and pads away, and seconds later you hear the ice stir and clatter in the bucket.
And all the time the wand has been pressed tight you your clit, radiating pleasure that you were fighting to keep on a lockdown.
“Let me come.” You beg, clamping shut your eyes until swirls of color burst behind your eyeballs, tears wedging out through your lashes. “Levi!”
“You’re so beautiful crying out my name.” He teases.
He’s enjoying this, more than he should, delighting at your pleasurable suffering. At the end of the day, this was your idea, and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, not too much.
“Please.” You babble, your lips parted, sucking in gust of air to appease the torture.
“Not yet.”
You hear his chuckle clicking in your ear, then his fingers squeezing tight your cheeks coaxing you to open your mouth, and shoves two more ice cubes in. You gag in the intrusion, water and drool dribbling down on your cheek. He ladles the mesh of juices and smears it over your hair.
“You’re a fucking mess.”
He trots to the opposite end and buzzes the wand at the highest speed.
“FUCK, LEVI, AHHHH!!!!” you thrash and squeal, arching your back and badging your head against the wood. Your screams and sobs bounce from wall to wall, and he just revels in the sight. His cock twitches, oozes and shouts to be free. You yowl at the ice running along your collarbones, up on your neck, searing where he had forcibly marked you, your chin, the bridge of your nose and forehead, faster and faster so that you can still feel the trail of the previous touch when the next one hits. Streaks of cold raise goosebumps all over your body.
Right when the soft splat hits your belly, near your navel, you though for an instant that it was a drop of water from the ice cube, until your brain registers it as a bloom of scorching heat.
Candle wax.
Adrenaline thunders down on you.
You gasp, sucking your belly muscles in, concentrating, waiting for the next strike. But your muscles relaxed, distracted by the bleak bead streaming down your left cheek. He puts a cube on your belly button, and soon the water trickles down over your mound, running towards the fiercely buzzing wand, lathering with your own wetness.
Levi scoops a dab of foam and licks his finger clean.
Another splat. Molten fire kisses your left breast.
Your screams clog in your throat, only staggered gasps break out through your parted lips.
Ice rub over your inner thigh, blazing heat right on your mound. The ice cube pares on your navel and water trickles in every direction.
Then a chill dashes down your shin, a drop of charring wax hitting your knee.
Plus, the wand, demanding your attention every time your nerves pull you around your body, delicious distraction of your agony.
It was too much, your mind and body unable to keep up with the onslaught of alternating cold and heat and the vibration, clutching all your senses. You feel you’re about to explode. A burst of flesh and bones. It’s too much, too much, you’d never feel such intense pleasure in your life. You can feel it building up like a crescendo, waiting for him to instruct the grand finale.
“Please!!!!” It’s all you can drag out of your mouth. The cravat is soaked in your tears, and your body kneels, begging for a respite.
“Come.” He breaths the word in tandem with a duo of drops, on each nipple, one burns, the other freezes. He mesmerizes in his private show, concentrated on how your orgasm breaks fiercely through you, sinking in a loud ear-splitting yowl. Jolts of pleasure and pain and thrill rip through you from head to toe. You feel water ejecting from your hole like the jet d’Eau. As you rip and tear, he sets you free from the assault of the wand, allowing you to ride down your peak.
The rapturing intensity have you trembling, big puffs of breath wheeze in straight to your lungs.
But the truce doesn’t last. Some wax drops are spilled on your thighs, on both at the same time, right on your scratched skin. Your bawl breaks through. A blazing wave singes. You feel it moving up, reaching a most sensitive part. It falls in your mound, and you can’t stifle your noises. Jowls and whimpers splice in a braid that reels out of your mouth. But the wax dries before it touches your inflamed folds.
He uses both candles in turns, and it continues to fall, drip by drip, on your belly, splashing a wax puddle over your navel. Rivulets of the scorching liquid trace down in every direction. He’s the artist and you his precious canvas, decorating you with a unique, erotic pattern. But the biggest fun is not to let you know where the next drop would hit. He lets you guess, play with your mind.
A dose of endorphins strikes in. Fuck, you want to see, his erotic piece of art on you. The pleasure encases the pain, brief and bearable. Your cute moans have a huge effect on him, he can feel his cock pushing against his slackers.
Luckily your roommate is out, although you wouldn't be surprised if the police bangs on your door at some point.
“You’re so pretty, Y/N, fucking pretty,” he rasps, “let me…” Wax drips down and lands shockingly hot on your taut nipples and breast. Air hisses into your mouth, and emerges into a desperate squeal that echoes through the entire room. Before you catch all the sensations, he drops more on your armpits and arms. Your muscles ache with the urge to wriggle free.
You wonder how you’ll take the calcified wax off then.
He rushes up the speed in which he pours the wax, and the strand doesn’t break as it marches down through the valley of your breasts.
“Now for the best part,” his smirk slowly blooms. He sets one candle on the floor.
You drag in a long breath through your nose, hold it in your chest and try to control de exhalation, but it comes out in a frantic rush.
Again you feel your pulse pick up as he tilted the candle, holding it much higher. And then it happens. First, it strikes your mound, immediately running down across your labia. The heat is so intense, yet nothing but erotic. A shivering moan falls from your lips, your breath comes out in forked pants, your belly tucking in and bulging out with every gulp. This damn torture have your pussy pulsing with need, craving him with unbridled desire bordering on recklessness. The muscles in your thighs quake in as your pray to stay still. And then his fingers spread your pussy lips apart and all you can do is to hold your breath. Seconds that for you lengthen into a eternity. Wax pours out and a hot wad splats directly on your clit. A deafening wail breaks from you, yet the scalding heat ceases soon, leaving a fuzzy linger. He grabs another candle, and starting a similar pattern from your breasts, it strides down to your sex, but this time it feels different, it’s less intense since the liquid falls on a thick hardened layer.
For a moment, Levi only stares at his artwork, proud, drinking his creation, something he needs to share with you. Your body smeared with daunting beauty.
The wax play ends, and you feel Levi breathing close to you. He lifts your head and unravels the knot. He takes it off slowly.
“Open your eyes.”
With effort, your eye flutter open, blinking several times to adjust amid the haze, until the edges of the room become clear. Levi tilts your head so you can admire too his artwork. On your flushed skin, white wax had hardened painting some weird starfish design over your breast, belly and thighs.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
You keep the reply for yourself, amazed by what it had turned out. You feel like a freak for loving this experience, feeling powerless under him, under his control, being used for his whims.
“I want to watch what comes next.”
He smiles with approval. “I reserved a front row seat for you.” He kisses you on the forehead and struts to the opposite side where your ankles are shackled to the table, and a glint flashes when he picks up the knife. You catch a glimpse of the edge of the blade scraping off the scabs of wax on your smooth hill. You take a deep breath, trying to coil your body protectively, but you know him, you know how deft he is with the knife. In your most sensitive parts he uses his fingers, and patiently peels the caked bits off.
“Can I have you now?” You breathe out the question and he only smirks in response. His eyes flick to your glazed gaze.
Watching the blade against your skin produce a mesh of thrill and fright. One wrong move, and red would blotch the knife; however, his hands assure you he’s so skilled at this.
“Is that what your greedy pussy wants?”
“She wants your pretty cock. And I know you want me too, Levi. I sow the bulge in your pants, the stain.”
He snorts.
“Please finish this, I can’t feel my hands anymore.”
“Just a bit more, and I’ll give you what you want.” He brushes sleek strands off hair off your clammy face. He removed big chunks, yet you’ll need a warm bath after this to get rid of the remnants.
Levi switches the knife in his grip, running the handle down your belly.
“Guess where this goes.” A cocky thin eyebrow rises, pulling up one corner of his lips.
“Holy shit” that’s all you muster to say before the handle disappears within you. You gasp, eyes and mouth open wide as you feel the hard material slip inside you. You tuck your chin to your chest and your eyes crash on his.
He works it in an out, just a couple inches so he has room to hold it, and you can feel the thick girth jabbing your magic spot. The carnality of being fucked by a handle have your arousal spiraling to the sky.
“Feeling good?”
“Yeah” your head falls back again and you close your eyes. “Not as good as you, though.”
“You’re a little slut.” He teases.
“For you and only you."
With his free hand, he toys with your mangled clit, flimsy, yet effective strokes turning you into a jumble of titillated nerves.
This kinky experience has been a sheer boost to your sex life. Nothing would top the way he loves you with his hands and mouth, purring ‘I love you’s in your hair with every thrust, reminding you that you’re the most beautiful thing that ever happened to him. But you needed a little spark, and you didn’t know what to expect from the world of rough sex and bondage games. Levi must’ve done his research.
Tonight, you’ve become his living, moaning, trembling canvas, taking pleasure in form of droplets of pain. I want you to do to me anything you want. Tease me, punish me, take me the way you prefer. You spew that night as he was ramming into you on the kitchen counter from behind.
And you’re willing to take it again.
He coerces your second orgasm of the night, not as intense as the previous one, but enough to capsize your world.
The sound of your crashing pleasure makes his cock grow painfully hard. Your hips jounce back and forth with your release. Fuck, he doesn’t want to admit it, but his own lust for savagery awakened from watching you, his helpless, naked girl, struggling in such frenzy at the bonds that holds your body nice and stretched against the wooden board.
He shakes his head and hurls the knife away.
Through heavy-leaded eyes, you watch him palming his hardness over his clothes, feeling sorry for the poor contained thing. The other hand shoved into his hair, sweeping messy strands away. You savor your lips, wondering if he would take you like this, bound and helpless.
You hope so. You just can’t wait anymore to be impale by his beautiful, girthy, prodigious cock, and you powerless against the assault.
He undresses, toes his shoes off, and pulls off his socks. He throws his shirt away and wiggles his pants off. And finally, he pushes down his briefs. His proud cock springs up hitting below his belly button. A bead of precum trickles down, following the purplish popping vein until it dies in his pubes.
Your mouth froth for him.
Levi can see the hunger in your eyes mirroring his.
He crawls on the table, hovering over you, cock in his hand and he peels down the thin skin of his shaft. Your knees bent as far as the straps permit.
Your clit and folds are extra-sensitive, but you don’t mind a little bit more of pain. You strain in your cuffs, trying to buck your hips and find leverage in the friction, you need to feel his skin against you, his weight and warm, his sweat melting with yours, the peak of every desire-his and yours. This is what you’ve been waiting for all night. You glance at the clock on the wall, it’s about to strike midnight.
But it’s only the tip poking your entrance, teasing strokes, and your eyebrows fall into a frown. He lets out a snort and continues rubbing you with soft, fluid motions, refraining from going in yet.
“Levi,” you sob his name but he only smiles.
“What?”
“What the fuck?”
“Anything you need?” He kisses you and pulls apart
“Fuck you, Levi Ackerman, for teasing me,” you growl, “just give me what I want.”
He enters you a slowly as is humanly possible, one hand pressing your hips down so you don’t buck to take him in one single thrust. He loves seeing you like this, desperate, helpless, his little cock-craver, shuddering as he begins to stretch your insides and fill you up. An achingly slow breach. When the tip of his cock pokes your cervix, he nestles himself there, reveling in you clenched around him, but doesn’t make a move. “Like this, right?”
He chuckles at your funny, fuddled face.
“What the hell you think you doing?” You gasp, fighting the shackles. “Fucking screw me, damn you. I deserve a good fuck after all this.”
He lowers himself pressing his pelvis and abdomen and chest against yours, closing any gap, and brings his nose down, skimming the tip of yours playfully; you can see the snicker blooming on his lips. “Beg.”
“Levi!!!!”
He rolls out until just the tip is embraced by your pussy lips, and gathers all the self-restraint to still there, watching your face contorting in the dire emptiness, fuck, he loves being in control.
“Beg.” He smothers kisses on your jawline, one hand anchored at your waist, the other flat on the wood.
Your body trembles. “Please, Levi. Fuck me. I’m begging you.”
He’s glad by your petition comes in due time. He couldn’t hold it anymore either. He was tormenting himself as much as he was torturing you. His lips seek yours, your tongues meshing right at the moment he surges back into your wetness. Both moaning into each other’s mouths. He grinds his hips, languidly at first, but it doesn’t take long to pick up the pace. His rod pistons in and out of your marred pussy, so hard and fast, the posts of the table squeak and rattle against the floor, screeching noises plait with your bawdy melody. The water stashed in you spills out with every snap, and you can feel the warmth rushing down in your cleft, beads creeping over your asshole. Your hard clit rubbing just above his cock is driving you fast to the edge.
On and on and on. He keeps his automated pace. The build up of the past hour or two have taken its toll on both. Levi knows he won’t last long; he can feel it in the twitch on the tip of his cock. His primal grunts entwine with your frantic shrills of ecstasy, perfect melody.
He wouldn’t stop, no. Not stopping until he fills you completely, until the world narrows and nothing else exist but him and you and your berserk need.
Your walls flutter around him forecasting your release, synchronizing with his balls scrunching up into him.
“Oh, Fuck.” He pants, throwing his head back, eyes twitching in. His face is broken out into a sweat, beads dripping from his forehead in your hair.
“Le– Oooooooh, Ahhhhhh, I–” You blather, unable to string a sentence. “Le–!!“ Your back muscles contract, your shoulders lash against the table. Eyes squeezed tight, nose crinkled, a pool of slaver glimmering on the cloth.
He drops his head on your shoulder. “Now,” he slurs, and the coiling tension explodes. Your back bows up as you scream your release, an expanding wrecking wave, your head pressed against the hard surface. Levi continues pumping, allowing himself to relish in the experience of you flitting all around him, and when he could no longer contain himself, he moans your name as he crams his cock deep into you. A violent lurch stiffens him, a hoarse grunt tearing out from somewhere deep in his chest. “Uhhh…ohhhh…shit..mmm…fuck…” He babbles, and in a snap, his cock spurts his thick jism in your soft hole, emptying his balls to the last drop.
It must be the best, rapturous orgasm he’s ever experienced in his life.
Your breaths entwine as he kisses you once more. Heaving and perspiring, he forces himself to keep awake and not pass out on top of you; he still has to unbind you from the restraints.
But his arms give up, and he collapses.
“Levi,” you crane your head above his shoulder to grasp air.
“Uh?”
“Get me out of here.”
He shuffles off of you, untethers you and helps you get on your feet. You’re still trembling in shock and ecstasy, threads of watery cum slither down your legs. “You sure you can walk?”
“I’m good.” You stumble.
“I get you.” He slips his arms, one beneath your neck, the other behind your knees, and lugs you up in bridal style. You nestle you head on his shoulder, draping an arm around him, drawing circles on his back, and gaze up at him.
He trudges to the bathroom.
“Thank you. Levi” you coo.
“Thank you. YN. I think we really needed that.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“Did I hurt you?”
You shake your head. “Few scratches, but I’ll be alright. I read the red marks will fade soon. The wax has a low melting point.”
“You did your homework.” He quips.
“And so did you.”
He sits you on the basin as he fills the tub.
“We could try other things.” He says. “Of course, drawing limits and expectations. You know, to keep it safe and sane.” He blushes.
“Sure. Maybe, I could peg you next time.” You leer.
He squints.
Gripping your hands around the rim, you swing your legs and tease “You shouldn’t inhibit yourself from the overwhelming pleasure of a prostate orgasm.”
"Shut up."
He takes you in his arms again, and the warm water stings on your bruises and blemishes. You shift, nestling you back on his chest.
“Where’s my bed, by the way?”
“In the storeroom.”
“And what do you intend? To stay here until the wee hours of the morning? until we turn into raisins?”
He nuzzles his cheek on the back of your shoulder, draping his arms around you. “Or we could take advantage that we have the place to ourselves...”
As he massages your shoulders, you don't realize at what point you fall asleep.
