16. Levi
The rain taps softly against the window, blurring the city lights outside into a warm, quiet glow. Inside the apartment, the only sound is the low hum of the refrigerator.
Dover stands by the kitchen counter, a half-empty mug of coffee warming his hands.
He looks up as I walk into the room. The silence between us feels thick, almost heavy with everything we haven't said out loud. Or maybe my confession earlier before I hung up the phone said everything. When I step forward, Dover’s breath hitches, his fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of his mug until his knuckles turn white.
He sets it down without breaking eye contact.
I stop just inches away, my gaze dropping to Dover's lips before rising back to his eyes, asking a silent, burning question.
When I finally reach out, my hand doesn't brush over Dover's hair gently—my fingers grip Dover's jaw with a sudden, fierce intensity.
Dover lets out a sharp breath, stepping directly into my space, but just as our lips are about to meet, Dover stops, his breathing ragged.
“Levi, wait," Dover whispers, his voice strained, raw with a conflict he struggles to hide. "We shouldn't do this. Not tonight. Not when we really need to talk.”
I don’t pull away. I cover Dover’s hands on my chest, letting him feel the frantic, heavy thud of my heart.
“Dover look at me. I know you want me as much as I want you?”
I let out a sharp, self-deprecating laugh, my thumb tracing Dover's cheekbone with an agonizing tenderness.
"That's the problem. I want this more than anything.
I want you. But I don't want to hurt you tomorrow because we used this tonight to ignore everything else.
" I close my eyes, my grip tightening just a fraction, caught entirely between the desperate urge to pull Dover closer and the crushing weight of knowing we can’t just kiss the issues away.
Dover makes the decision for us. His hands slide from my jaw down to my waist, his grip firm and urgent, pulling me flush against him.
The scent of rain and damp wool rolls off my jacket as the kiss grows deeper, less a negotiation and more a demand, the wet slide of our lips a sudden friction that makes my pulse skyrocket.
Outside, the sky cracks open. A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the room in sharp, stark white, throwing long shadows across the walls before the heavy rumble of thunder shakes the windowpanes.
The storm seems to break the last of the slow rhythm between us, accelerating the pace.
Dover’s hands became frantic, tugging at the damp wool of my jacket.
He pushes it off my shoulders, the heavy fabric thudding onto the floor beside the sofa.
Every movement is fueled by a sudden, driving urgency, a sharp contrast to the soft velvet underneath us.
Another roll of thunder vibrates through the floorboards, matching the heavy, demanding thud of my heart against Dover's palm.
I roll us over in one fluid, powerful motion, pinning Dover into the deep cushions.
The shift in weight is immediate and heavy.
I hover over Dover, my breathing ragged, eyes dark as I stare down at him through the shadows.
Dover’s breath hitches at the sheer pressure of my body against his.
I don't hesitate this time. I reach down, my fingers tangling in the hem of Dover's shirt, and pull it up and over his head in one swift movement.
The sudden rush of cool room air hits Dover's bare chest, making his skin prickle, but a second later, I’m leaning down, my hot skin erasing the chill.
The physical pacing turns intense, a rapid exchange of touch and heat.
My hands move with a fierce, possessive speed, sliding down Dover's ribs to grip his hips, anchoring him to the cushions.
Dover arches into the touch, his fingers digging into my shoulders, pulling me down harder.
Outside, the rain lashes violently against the glass, a chaotic backdrop to the sharp, focused heat radiating between the two of us on the sofa.
“Levi,” Dover hisses, “I want you inside me.”
I freeze, hoping I didn’t mishear what he said because I want that more than anything. Dover grips my cock and squeezes, sending a rush of pleasure through my body.
“Where’s the lube?”
“Bedside drawer.”
With his rock-hard cock bobbing, he wiggles out from under me and quickly heads into the bedroom to retrieve the lube.
I settle back down on the sofa, and when Dover returns, I indicate for him to get on top.
Straddling my thighs, Dover wastes no time lubing up my cock, which is so fucking hard right now.
I grab the lube from Dover and rub it over my hands before I grip Dover’s balls in one hand and press a finger inside his body.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Dover curses, his dick leaking on my chest, and it jerks hard when I put two fingers inside him. “Stop! Fuck, Levi! I’m going to come. Wait!” He knocks my fingers away and grips my dick at his entrance.
“This isn’t going to last long,” I admit, on the brink of orgasm as he quickly adds a condom.
The second he starts to slide down my dick, my eyes roll into the back of my head as I’m suddenly overwhelmed with pleasure.
Our breathing is ragged and raw as he slowly seats himself on my cock.
His eyes are dark and heavy as he slowly moves on me.
A little at first, then faster. I grab his cock and pump him as fast as he moves on me.
The slap of skin on skin is mixed in with the rain outside, which continues to lash against the glass.
When the intensity finally peaks, it feels like the breaking of a fever.
Dover squirts all over my stomach and abs while I come heavily inside of him.
Nothing has ever felt like this does. I’m left entirely undone in the quiet aftermath.
I lay back against the cushions, my chest rising and falling in sharp, irregular breaths.
Dover collapses beside me, heavy and warm.
The only sounds in the room are the steady drum of the downpour and the synchronized, ragged rhythm of our panting.
I close my eyes, my skin slick with sweat, the deep ache of relief settling into my bones.
Dover leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the damp skin of my shoulder, his breathing slowly beginning to level out.
Then, a sharp, heavy sound shatters the silence.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The noise echoes loudly through the apartment, stark and demanding.
We freeze instantly. My chest stops moving as I hold my breath, my muscles tensing beneath Dover’s hand. Dover’s eyes snap open. We look at each other in the dim light, the sudden intrusion cutting through the quiet safety we had felt.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The tension snaps back into place like a coiled spring.
I scramble off the sofa first, my movements hurried and tense, a far cry from the deliberate rhythm of moments before.
Dover sits up, the cool air of the room hitting his bare skin like a splash of ice water, sending a harsh shiver down his spine as he breaks out in goosebumps.
"Levi?" a voice calls out from the hallway, muffled by the heavy wood of the door but entirely recognizable. "Levi, I know you're in there. Your car is downstairs."
It’s Rosie.
Dover’s eyes meet mine. Wordlessly, we’re thrown into a frantic scramble.
Dover grabs his shirt off the floor and uses it to wipe my stomach quickly.
“Get a clean t-shirt from the bedroom,” I murmur, carefully removing the condom and tossing it into the trash.
“And put the dirty shirt in the bathroom.” I’m already jamming my legs into jeans, my jaw set, my eyes fixed on the door with a look of intense dread.
I zip up my trousers and grab my damp wool jacket from the floor, throwing it over a nearby chair to make the room look less chaotic, but my hair is wildly disheveled.
Dover comes back, yanking a tee down his abs, smoothing down the rest of his clothes as he looks my way, the emotional distance between us suddenly widening as the reality of the outside world begins to force its way in.
It leaves a deep sadness inside my chest.
Knock. Knock.
"Levi, come on. It's urgent. We've got a situation."
I meet Dover’s gaze for a split second, a look of sadness and mounting panic reflected back at me, before I turn away.
I take a deep, steadying breath, trying to force my voice into a calm, professional tone. "Coming!" I call out, my voice slightly rough. I cast one last, conflicted look at Dover, then walk toward the door to turn the lock.
I throw the lock and pull the heavy door open.
Rosie stands in the hallway, shaking a wet raincoat. Instead of the frantic woman I expected, she holds a large, grease-stained paper bag that fills the air with the rich, savory scent of garlic and fried rice.
Rosie steps past me without waiting for an invitation. “I sat in my car hoping for a dry spell, but no luck, so here I am with warm food. I didn’t want it to get—"
She stops mid-sentence as she fully enters the living room.
Her eyes, sharp and trained from years of security work, immediately take in the scene.
She looks at Dover, whose hair is wildly messy and whose t-shirt is on inside out.
Then her gaze slides to me, my blush difficult to hide and my breathing still noticeably heavy.
Her eyes finally flick to the deeply indented, rumpled velvet cushions of the sofa.
A knowing gleam lights up Rosie’s eyes. She doesn’t say a word, but the corners of her mouth twitch. Master of operational discretion, she smoothly chooses to ignore the obvious. Hiding a sharp, amused smile behind the paper bag, she walks straight past us toward the kitchen.
"I'm starving," Rosie calls out over her shoulder, her voice dripping with casual amusement. "I'm getting plates. Dover, Levi’s shirt is inside out."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, a mixture of intense embarrassment and profound relief washing over me. Across the room, Dover runs a hand over his face, a sheepish, dark flush creeping up his neck as he sorts the t-shirt out.
Rosie is already clattering ceramic plates out of the cupboard, her back to me, but the slight shake of her shoulders gives her away.
When she turns around, her smirk is firmly in place, her eyebrows raised in silent amusement.
Dover completely ignores the look, stepping up beside her to take two of the plates from her hands.
He grabs a handful of forks from the drawer, keeping his face entirely neutral, though his ears still burn a light pink.
"Thanks for the food, Rosie," Dover says smoothly, his voice cool and steady as he takes the lead toward the dining table.
The heavy rain is still drumming a steady rhythm against the window glass.
Rosie walks out of the kitchen carrying the steaming bag of takeout, sitting down across from us with a satisfied sigh.
The heavy, complicated tension from earlier has completely dissolved, replaced by the casual warmth of the three of us sitting down to eat.
“You said we have a situation. What is it?” I ask her, remembering her words through the door.
She smirks. “The food was getting cold.”
I roll my eyes while Dover snickers.