Chapter 273: "Every Mistake as a Price."
[Silthara Palace—Emperor’s Chamber—Continuation]
Levin’s body was trembling as Zeramet’s command cut through the haze. He rose on unsteady legs, the silk slipping against his thighs, the sunlight pooling around his feet like water.
Standing naked and bare before him.
The air was thick with dark lotus, the pheromones wrapping around him like a living serpent, coiling through his lungs, his blood, and the hollow spaces behind his ribs. Levin’s nipples had tightened to hard peaks, catching the golden light that spilled through the window. He could feel the weight of Zeramet’s gaze on every inch of his skin, tracking, memorizing, and devouring.
Zeramet had not moved. His one knee bent, his twin cocks heavy against his thigh, the larger one rising with a slow, deliberate pulse. His silver-white hair spilled across the chair, and his golden eyes burned with the patience of a god watching a sacrifice prepare itself.
"Touch yourself, everywhere he touched you."
Levin’s throat worked; his voice came out rough, scraped raw by the kiss that still lingered on his lips. "He didn’t touch me much. I didn’t let him. Except for you, no one else—"
"Then touch yourself to satisfy me."
The words cut through Levin’s protest like a blade through silk. He stared at Zeramet and searched those golden eyes for the man he had first met, but all he saw was the beast, the predator.
The creature that had marked him with teeth and tongue and would not rest until every trace of another was burned from his skin.
Did he have a choice?
He didn’t know how long this would last, how long the beast’s first instinct would drive him, or how long Zeramet would remain lost in the hunger that had taken him, and maybe, buried somewhere beneath the instinct, the man was still there.
Maybe if Levin submitted, if he let himself be claimed, the man would surface again, and maybe this could bring his husband back.
Levin’s fist clenched at his side, his jaw tightened, and the words came out a murmur, barely audible: "I will never forgive you after you come to your senses...Zer."
And then he turned and lowered himself onto the lower divan; the cushions gave beneath his weight, cool against his heated skin, and he stretched out on his back, his arms pressed to his sides, his legs together like an offering laid bare.
Zeramet’s gaze followed him like a physical touch.
The pheromones thickened. Levin felt them wrap around his throat, his chest, the insides of his thighs, and the invisible coils that tightened with every shallow breath. The dark lotus scent was overwhelming now, sweet and deep and ancient, pulling at something primal in the base of his skull.
Then....
Levin raised his hand, his fingers pressed against his own throat first, the side where the corrupted serpent’s mouth had lingered. The touch was light, tracing the column of his neck, feeling the pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips like a trapped bird.
He felt the hollow of his own throat, the dip of his collarbone, the heat of his own skin under his own hand.
Zeramet watched him with silence and stillness. The sunlight carved his face into a mask of inhuman beauty, and his gaze was a brand on every inch Levin touched.
Levin’s hand slid lower, over his collarbone, down the center of his chest. He spread his fingers, pressing harder than he needed to, feeling his own ribs shift beneath the pressure. The sensation was sharp and grounding, a reminder that this was real, that he was doing this, that the golden eyes were burning holes through his resistance.
"Hngh... ahhhhh..."
The moan escaped before he could stop it.
Zeramet’s jaw tightened; the golden eyes tracked the movement with predatory precision. Levin saw Zeramet’s hand twitch where it rested on his own thigh, a barely contained urge to reach out, to take over, to replace those trembling fingers with his own.
But he held still and waited.
Levin’s hand moved again, to his waist. His fingers pressed into the curve of bone, the dip of muscle. He traced the shape of his own hip, the swell of his pelvis, dragging his thumb across his stomach in a slow, deliberate arc.
The skin was warm and sensitive, and he felt a shiver run through him under that burning gaze.
"Hahhhh... annnghh....hnghhh..."
His body arched slightly, responding to his own touch and to the weight of those eyes. The pheromones were a drug in his blood, and his cock had hardened fully now, standing against his belly, the tip slick with moisture. He could feel Zeramet’s attention on it.
Levin’s hand slid lower; his fingers brushed the inside of his thigh, the sensitive skin there, soft and pale. He spread his legs apart, feeling the velvet beneath him, the cool air against his exposed flesh.
His breath came faster, his heart hammered against his ribs, and his hand moved to his ass.
He hesitated as his fingers hovered over the cleft, trembling, and he could feel Zeramet’s gaze sharpen, could feel his stillness deepen into something that felt like the moment before a predator strikes.
Levin’s fingers reached toward his hole, and he circled the entrance, feeling the heat, the tight furl of muscle.
"Hnghhh.....hhhhaaaa... aaahh..."
His finger pressed inward; the resistance was immediate, tight, hot, unyielding.
Levin gasped, his hips twitching, his back arching slightly as he pushed deeper. The sensation was sharp, strange, a burn that blurred into something else. His head fell back, his dark hair spilling across the velvet, and he felt his own finger slide deeper, felt the heat of his own body clamp around it.
"Ahhh... Zerr...."
He circled inside, exploring the tight channel, feeling the walls flutter around his finger. His mouth fell open, his breath coming in ragged gasps, and he could feel Zeramet’s gaze on him like hands, gripping his hips, spreading his legs, pressing him into the velvet.
He then added a second finger; the stretch was intense, a burn that made his eyes water, that made his cock throb harder. He worked himself open, finger by finger, feeling the resistance give way to heat and slickness.
The sound of it was obscene in the quiet chamber: the wet slide of his own fingers, the gasps and moans that fell from his lips, and the heavy breathing of his own husband across the room.
Zeramet had not moved yet. He had not made a sound since Levin began, but the weight of his gaze was a physical pressure that wrapped around Levin’s body as surely as the invisible coils of pheromone.
Levin could feel his hunger in the stillness, could feel the restraint straining like a chain about to break.
Levin’s fingers curled inside him, searching for that spot, that bundle of nerves that would make him feel everything.
He found it, a small, rough patch that sent a jolt of electricity through his spine, and he cried out, his hips bucking, his hand pressing deeper.
Again. He found it again...and again.
"Hufff...aaahhh...Zer...aahhhh...hngh...."
His body moved on its own, riding his own fingers, enjoying himself on his own hand while Zeramet watched. The pleasure was building, coiling low in his stomach, and he could feel the heat spreading through his limbs, making them heavy, making him forget why he had ever resisted.
He was close...and then Zeramet spoke.
"Stop."
The word was soft and absolute.
Levin’s hand stilled, his chest heaved, his breath was ragged, and his fingers were still buried inside him, trembling on the edge of release. He looked up at Zeramet, eyes dark and glazed, lips swollen, cheeks flushed.
"Why?" The word came out broken, desperate. "I was... I was almost..."
"I know."
Zeramet rose from the chair. His body was a silhouette against the sunlight, his twin cocks standing proud and dark, the larger one leaking as he crossed the space between them with slow, deliberate steps, his bare feet silent on the stone floor.
He stopped at the edge of Levin’s diwan, looked down at him, sprawled, spread, his hand still buried inside himself, his cock aching and neglected.
"You do not come until I give you permission," Zeramet said, and his voice was a low growl. "You do not spend yourself alone while I watch...because your pleasure belongs to me now, my moonflower."
Levin gulped; he opened his mouth to argue, but Zeramet’s foot pressed against the inside of his thigh, pushing, spreading him wider.
"Take your hand out."
Levin obeyed; his fingers slid free, slick and glistening, and he let his hand fall to the velvet beside him. The absence was a hollow ache, a need that burned hotter than before.
Zeramet knelt between his legs, his weight settled on the diwan, his thighs bracketing Levin’s, his body blocking the sunlight. The shadow of him fell across Levin’s face, and the golden eyes were the only light left in the world, burning, hungry, patient.
Zeramet’s hand found Levin’s hip and gripped hard enough to bruise.
"Now...it’s time I claim you."
His hand slid down, fingers pressed into the inside of Levin’s thigh, spreading him wider, baring him completely. His gaze dropped and followed the line of Levin’s body, the flushed cock, the open hole still slick with his own fingers, and the dark velvet beneath.
Levin felt the head of the larger cock press against his entrance.
It was hot...infinitely hot.
The pressure was blunt, demanding, stretching the rim before he was ready. Levin gasped, his hands flying up to grip Zeramet’s shoulders, his nails digging into bronze skin.
"Look at me," Zeramet said.
Levin’s eyes met his, and he forced himself to hold that golden gaze as he pushed forward, slow, relentless, inch by inch, filling him with a pressure that was almost more than his body could bear.
The stretch was white-hot, a burn that radiated through his pelvis, his spine, and the base of his skull. Levin’s mouth fell open, but no sound came out. His vision blurred at the edges, and he clung to Zeramet’s shoulders like a drowning man clinging to a spar.
Zeramet did not stop until he was fully seated, his hips pressed flush against Levin’s ass, the twin cocks nestled against the heat of Levin’s body, the larger one buried to the root.
"Do you want me to...go on my moonflower?" Zeramet asked.
Levin could only nod, his throat too tight for words, his body too full for thought. He was impaled on the First Beast, claimed in the most primal way possible, and there was no going back. He closed his eyes ready for the intense pleasure, until---
"Not yet..."
Levin’s breath caught and before he could react—
TURN!!!
The world spun as Zeramet effortlessly pinned him on his stomach. Levin gasped, his pulse racing beneath the overwhelming strength that held him completely still.
Zeramet’s hand tightened around his waist, leaving no room to escape; golden eyes gleamed with dangerous amusement, and a slow, predatory smile curved across his lips.
"You chose the worst possible time to come here, my Moonflower." His voice was low, ancient, and possessive.
Levin swallowed, forcing himself to meet those burning eyes.
"...Zer..."
The First Beast leaned closer until his breath brushed against Levin’s butt and—BITE!!!!!
He bit him on his butt, leaving his dark red teeth marks.
"Aghhh..." Levin groaned in pain and pleasure.
Then Zeramet leaned closer to his neck until his breath brushed against his, and then his fingers traced the black lotus mark.
And then—BITE!!!!!
"Aghhh...hhhaaaaa..."
Then his teeth grazed the skin of Levin’s shoulder, not enough to injure, but enough to make Levin shiver and leave his teeth mark.
"You approached me while I was in this state." His voice dropped into a near-growl. "That... was the greatest mistake you’ve ever made."
Silence filled the chamber, and then Zeramet smirked, saying, "And every mistake...has a price, which you’re going to receive...my moonflower."
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