Chapter 45 #2
Asher lowered his head, mouth tracing the path his fingers had mapped, and Levi’s world narrowed to points of sensation.
The wet heat of Asher’s tongue against his collarbone, laving in slow, deliberate strokes that made his nerves sing.
The slight scrape of teeth along his ribs, a sharp contrast that pulled a whimper from deep in his chest. The contrast of cool fingertips against overheated skin, gliding lower, teasing the edges of sensitivity without mercy.
It was too much, too fast. Emotion welled up, tightening Levi’s throat and burning behind his eyes—a storm of fear, desire, and the raw ache of his inexperience crashing together.
A strangled sound escaped him, half gasp, half sob, his body bucking beneath the onslaught as tears finally spilled over.
Asher pulled back, eyes sharp with concern. “You’re crying.”
“Stop,” Levi managed finally, the word choked and desperate. “I can’t—It’s too—
Asher went still, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Levi feared he’d triggered something dangerous, but then Asher shifted, moving to lie beside him rather than over him, one arm draped across Levi’s waist in a hold that was more comforting than restrictive.
“Breathe,” Asher said, his voice gentler than Levi had ever heard it. “Just breathe.”
“I don’t know why I’m—” he began.
“It’s okay,” Asher interrupted, his thumb brushing away a tear from Levi’s cheek. “Your tears make you even more beautiful, Levi.” His touch lingered, tracing the path of another tear down to Levi’s jaw.
He continued the tender stroking, allowing Levi time to regain control, his fingers trailing lightly over Levi’s collarbone and down his arm in slow, soothing patterns that sent faint tingles across his skin.
The contrast to Asher’s usual intensity was disorienting, a brief oasis in the storm, and Levi’s sobs gradually ebbed into shaky breaths.
“Do you want to stop?” Asher asked, the question clearly difficult for him to voice, tension coiling in his jaw as if the very idea pained him.
Yes.
No.
I don’t know.
“No,” Levi whispered. “Just... slower.”
“I can do slower,” he said, his fingertips ghosting over Levi’s skin like a whisper. “Tell me what you like.”
“I don’t know what I like,” Levi admitted, embarrassment burning a fresh flush spreading across his face as he averted his eyes.
“Then I’ll show you.” Asher leaned over him once more, his body a warm, looming presence that made Levi’s heart stutter. “And you’ll tell me when something feels good.”
He began again, his touches lighter and unhurried, his palms sliding over Levi’s chest and sides with reverent care, mapping the contours he’d praised earlier.
The fear remained, a constant undercurrent, but alongside it grew something else—a warm, liquid sensation pooling low in his abdomen, heavy and insistent, like molten honey seeping through his veins.
Asher worked his way down Levi’s body with methodical patience, pausing whenever tension returned to Levi’s muscles, his fingers kneading gently to coax relaxation.
His self-control was impressive, almost unnerving.
This was not the same man who strangled Levi in the forest or pinned him to the conference table.
Until suddenly, he was.
The shift came without warning. Asher’s mouth had been tracing the curve of Levi’s hip, lips brushing softly over the smooth skin, when his teeth suddenly sank into the sensitive flesh.
The pain was sharp, immediate, radiating outward and pulling a startled cry from Levi’s throat as his body jerked.
Asher’s head snapped up, eyes dark with something primal. A thin smear of blood colored his lower lip.
“You’re bleeding.” His tongue darted out, savoring it like a forbidden nectar.
Fear flashed through Levi as a cold spike that cut through the haze of sensation. This was the real Asher—the predator beneath the facade. The killer who had hunted him through the forest, who had watched the light fade from his eyes with fascination as he strangled him.
“Asher,” Levi whimpered, the name both warning and plea, his voice trembling as he fought the urge to pull away.
Something in Asher’s expression shifted, awareness returning to his eyes like a fog lifting. He blinked and glanced at the bite mark, where a small trickle of blood traced the curve of Levi’s hip, stark against the pale skin.
“I hurt you,” he said, sounding almost surprised, his fingers hovering just above the wound.
“Yes,” Levi confirmed, watching him warily, his body tense.
Asher’s thumb brushed over the mark, smearing the blood in a small arc. “I didn’t mean to.” A pause. “Not that much.”
It was the closest thing to an apology Levi was likely to get. He nodded once, accepting it for what it was, his breath still coming in uneven gasps.
Asher lowered his head again, this time pressing his lips to the wound. “Let me make it better,” he murmured against Levi’s skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.
The careful attention that followed was a study in contrasts. Asher’s tongue traced the bite mark, the blowing cool air over throbbing heat he’d created, lapping away the blood. His lips pressed light kisses along the curve of Levi’s hip, each one like a silent apology.
“So beautiful,” Asher murmured against the reddened skin, his breath causing goosebumps to rise in its wake. “Even your blood tastes sweet, like the rest of you. This body... it’s a masterpiece, Levi. I wish I could just have you naked all the time.”
His fingers traced the jut of hipbones, the slight hollow beneath them, the sensitive skin of inner thighs. Each touch lingered just long enough to register before moving on, creating a map of sensation that Levi’s body couldn’t help but respond to, his muscles twitching under Asher’s caresses.
The iron band of tension around Levi’s chest loosened with each touch, his body arching into the contact. The fear remained—how could it not, with Asher’s teeth still stained faintly pink with his blood?—but it transformed from sharp panic to something duller, more manageable.
“That’s it,” Asher purred. “Let me make you feel good. See how your body relaxes for me? It’s learning who it belongs to.”
The warm, liquid sensation returned, starting as a tight coil low in Levi’s abdomen and spreading outward, making his limbs feel impossibly heavy and his skin hypersensitive to every brush of air or touch.
A flush crept across his skin, starting at his chest and traveling upward to stain his cheeks and throat, his arousal evident in the way his body tensed and released.
Asher tracked the progression with hungry eyes, one hand rising to press against Levi’s sternum, feeling the thundering heartbeat beneath, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “You’re so pretty like this, all pink and hard for me.”
When Asher reached for the bottle he’d placed on the nightstand, Levi tensed again, anxiety returning in a cold rush that chased away the warmth, his muscles clenching involuntarily.
“It’s okay, I’ll take care of you,” Asher soothed, his free hand moving along Levi’s flank in long, calming strokes. “Trust me.”
“I don’t,” Levi whispered, his eyes wide.
A smile curved Asher’s lips, dark amusement in his eyes, though his touch remained light. “Good boy.” His expression sobered slightly. “It might hurt a little,” he warned, “at first. But I’ll make it good for you after. I promise.”
Levi forced his eyes to un-focus as Asher coated his fingers in lube, but the slick sound of it still made Levi’s stomach twist with nervous anticipation.
The first touch was cold and foreign, the slick chill of the lubricant drawing a startled gasp from Levi’s lips as Asher’s finger circled his sensitive entrance, teasing without pressing.
His muscles tensed, body fighting against the intrusion despite his mental willingness, an instinctive clench that sent a wave of embarrassment through him.
“Relax,” Asher said, pressing a kiss to Levi’s inner thigh. “Let me take care of you. Breathe.”
Levi tried to obey, his chest heaving as he willed his body to unclench.
His heart hammered against his ribs, a trapped bird seeking escape.
Asher’s finger pushed forward, breaching him slowly, and a strangled sound escaped Levi’s throat—not quite pain, not yet, but intense discomfort that bordered on panic, a burning stretch that made his toes curl and his hands fist in the sheets.
“I can’t,” he gasped, hands clenching tighter, knuckles white as the sensation built, foreign and overwhelming. “Asher, I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” Asher leaned forward to press his lips against Levi’s stomach, the warmth of his mouth a distracting anchor. “Focus on my mouth, not my fingers. You’re doing so well for me already.”
The distraction worked momentarily, Levi’s attention shifting to the feeling of lips against his abdomen, the soft kisses trailing lower. But when Asher added a second finger, the discomfort sharpened into genuine pain—a deep, insistent burn that radiated inward.
“Ow, Asher—,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut as he gripped the sheets tighter. “It burns.”
“You have to relax. Your body’s fighting me. Stop fighting. Let me in, Levi—let me have this part of you.”
“I can’t—”
“Look at me,” Asher commanded, waiting until Levi reluctantly opened his eyes. He kissed Levi’s stomach again. “You’re doing so well. Taking me so perfectly. You’re perfect, Levi.
The praise shouldn’t have affected him, shouldn’t have mattered coming from his tormentor. But something in Levi responded to it nevertheless, a warm flush spreading across his chest and up his neck, easing the tension just enough for his muscles to yield.
Asher noticed—of course, he noticed—and smiled. “You like that,” he whispered. “Being told how good you are.”