[House Veyrhold—Levin's Chamber—Continuation]
The air had already thickened—heavy, breathless.
Levin steadied himself against the bed, candlelight spilling over his bare skin, casting molten gold across the trembling lines of his body. His breath faltered as Zeramet's presence settled behind him—warm, close, inescapable.
The position alone sent heat rushing to his face, his shoulders tightening despite himself.
"…Zer…" His voice came unsteady, quieter than before. "This… this position is—"
"Embarrassing?" Zeramet finished, low amusement threading through his voice.
His hands moved slowly along Levin's waist—firm, claiming—drawing him back just enough to remind him of the body behind his own.
"What is there to be embarrassed about… my consort?" he murmured near his ear. "We are bound… in every way that matters."
Levin's breath caught, his face flushed deeper—but he did not move.
Could not.
