44: Stay Beside Him

The meeting is challenging, to say the least. You're beside Levi in the Mount Olympus of Paradis, still nothing more than a peasant surrounded by royalty. It's hard to care anymore, though—you're only mere minutes in the wake of kissing your mentor, and the craving for him hasn't waned a bit. Now you are sitting rigidly, tuning out the conversation around you as you battle with ravenous thoughts.

Levi, too, is restless. He's been fidgeting with a pen since the meeting began, running his thumb along its length and twisting its cap on and off. At a certain point, Miche conveniently requests it to sign a document, and thus he has to give up that toy and resort to thumbing the lid of the drink he sips. Slouched back in his seat, he stares blankly at the cup until he's needed.

"Any amendments to the proposition, Levi?" Dhalis Zachary asks.

It takes several seconds for the professor to answer. He glances your way first—which is a mistake, given that he must audibly exhale to calm down again—then looks to Dhalis.

"None. What's the verdict?"

"Was there any question?" Erwin laughs beside the dean. "It's been approved, of course. I'll speak with building management about arranging new spaces in the buildings."

"Wonderful," Levi celebrates dully. "Assign offices quickly. I'd like to get my things moved before the end of the semester."

"If arrangements work out, you may." Erwin meets Levi's grumbling with calm determination.

Levi's too lazy to fight back any further. His toe nudges yours right as Dhalis begins another line of discussion.

"What?" you mouth, careful to avoid standing out in the conference room.

He pins an elbow on the table's edge between you two, watching the eyes around him as he mumbles to you. "Do we have any food left at your apartment? Or should we get takeout tonight?"

"Focus," you snap back. "We're in a meeting, Levi."

"Who gives a shit?" Levi does watch his volume, keeping it below the back-and-forth of his peers. "You can't tell me you're actually paying attention right now."

"I'm not, but I don't have to. You're the department head."

"I'm not in any condition to focus," he admits. "After what you just pulled, I don't think I'll be able to focus for a week."

"Shut up. You don't mean that."

"I do." His eyes wander the room, searching for a distraction—or rather, a solution. "Here."

The folder he brought with him is shoved into your hands. From within it, his car keys slide into your palm.

"Take my shit and go to the car. Get it started; warm it up. Wait for me."

You quietly scoff. "The meeting isn't close to finishing up."

"I'll sneak out in a few minutes. Go."

"Levi, you can't—"

"Go." He waves you away and turns his head to the head of the table, pretending to be interested in what the dean has to say instead of your complaints.

With a roll of your eyes you slip away, gently excusing yourself from the deities and hurrying down to the ground floor.

In his car, you take the driver's seat and start the engine, adjusting settings on the console as though this vehicle is yours. Basking in his subtle scent that permeates the seats, you lean against the door and gaze at the towering building you just left. Though you had chastised him for his impatience, you know you're feeling exactly the same way. He needs to come outside right now. You need to be beside him again—holding his hand, seeing his face, listening to his voice. It's not fair that his peers are holding him captive until they're satisfied.

But, not more than two minutes later, he's seen pushing out of the doors and pacing to his car, to you. Nobody else has exited alongside him, suggesting that he left the meeting glaringly early to escape. You can't even begin to think of what excuse he conjured.

"Claiming the driver's seat, are you?" he questions as he slips into the passenger side.

"Levi, what'd you tell them to get you out of the meeting early?"

"Nothing." He's already reaching across the middle, working hands around your ribcage and pulling you off the seat. "I just left."

"Wh—hey." You're dragged to his side of the car before you know it, your legs awkwardly stumbling from one seat to another as your torso is relocated by Levi's might. He positions you on his lap and fixes your limbs accordingly, making you as comfortable as you can be inside his tiny sedan. "Do you mind? There's a more graceful way to—"

He's not interested in what you have to say; he only cares for what your lips can offer. He shuts you up with a kiss, holding your head with a firm hand in your hair that curls into a fist as he grows more impassioned.

"You're asking an impatient man to be gentle?" he quips between kisses. "You should know me better than that."

"Fuck," you curse against his lips, your thighs squeezing his. "You're helpless."

"Fuck yes, I am." After stealing one more from your lips, he nudges your jaw up and explores the new area on your neck. Trepidatious, yet unstoppable, he tests what his lips can do on your skin.

"H-hey—ah—" You grasp at his shoulders, bracing for the stimulation his mouth can deliver to your nerves. "I s-swear, if you leave a mark—"

"I might leave several," he dares, dark pleasure dripping in his voice. "How else will everyone know you're mine?"

"They already do." You suck in air through clenched teeth as he finds a terribly sweet spot to nibble on. "You've—you've never been subtle."

"Why would I be? You need the world to see how incredible you are—how lucky I am to have you." His speech is warm and wet against your skin, setting both bodies on fire and turning the car into a furnace.

Giving nothing more than small grunts, you twist fingers into his soft hair and allow him to discover the skin on your collarbone and shoulder. He takes it, his damp forehead plastered against your neck as he eats up as much of you as he can. You keep muttering jabs that he smoothly deflects, falling deeper and deeper into the well of his obsession. It's a shared obsession now—a joined realization that you both desperately need each other no matter what.

"Oh, dear," he hums a moment later, his gaze looking over your shoulder. "An audience is approaching."

"What?" You turn to see the department heads trickle out of the main building, chattering with each other as they go. You're in one of the closest cars, giving a prime view to whoever will happen to wander close enough. "Shit. I'm getting off."

"Why?" he asks with far too much innocence. "If they don't want to watch, they can ignore us."

"No, absolutely not." You clamber off him and back into the driver's seat, moving about as elegantly as a newborn fawn. "I—ow—can't ruin my reputation before I even start working here."

"Yeah? Am I ruining your reputation?"

"You are not." You click your seatbelt while keeping your eyes away from the window, hiding from passersby. "But going wild with a superior on school property is super unprofessional. I am not putting on a show for anyone."

He gives a small shrug. "If you insist."

By the time you both make it back to the apartment, Levi's arousal has finally simmered down. You can't tell if you're relieved or disappointed to see him mechanically walk down the hallway without any interest in being obsessively close to you. He seems to be holding back, and that may be for the best.

The feral animal inside your brain is pouting, but you recognize that it is proper for someone like Levi to take his time.

"If there's nothing in your fridge, I'm getting something delivered," he announces as you allow him inside your space.

"With what money?" you jab.

"Quiet. I have enough." He speaks as though he'll be able to conjure currency out of thin air. "Oh, good," he sighs as he peers into the fridge. "Enough for fried rice, if you still have that bag of rice I saw a week ago."

"I do. Plenty of veggies in the bottom drawer, too. I think." You pass him and slump onto the couch, wondering if he's prioritizing dinner over his target of newly born passion.

"Good. Sit still—I'll make something quick."

"I can help—"

"You'll help by providing the ingredients, appliances, and permission. You don't need to do anything else." He's already sorting through your pans and selecting which ones best suit his needs. "Have you drafted a midterm exam for your class yet?"

Ah, now he's making conversation like you two are back to colleagues. With demons and angels fighting for dominance in your head, you stay neutral and politely engage him.

You talk of what's next for the class, and furthermore what's next for you. Graduation is on the horizon, slowly approaching, and after that comes the summer term. No more classwork, you celebrate, but preparation for your job, he reminds. Once you ask what that involves, he tells you about further prep work for classes and initiating teacher-assistant programs and collaborations with other professors. Lots of emails and phone calls, he bemoans.

"Virtual work, though, right?" you ask. "I was thinking of going back home over the summer term."

"You'd leave the city?"

"Yeah, just for the summer." The sizzle of vegetables in oil is the ambient noise for this conversation. You wonder if you should put on some music. "I'm going to my commencement ceremony—even online kids get to walk at graduation. Then I'll come back here in fall."

"You could do that." He stirs the concoction endlessly. "Is your lease here ending soon?"

"Yeah, at the end of the term." You're about to mention how you might extend it, but one look at him and one evaluation of the situation makes you think again. "I don't think I'll want to live here next year. With a professor's salary, I could afford somewhere a bit nicer."

"Of course," he says while throwing a bashful glance your way. "You deserve more space than a studio, anyway."

"Yeah." Maybe he's following the thread of your remark. Maybe he's not. "I could get a two-bedroom unit."

"Two beds?" He freezes in place, his eyes glaring at the frypan. "Who would you share it with?"

Bless his dense heart. Letting out a light chuckle, you shake your head at your clueless roommate. "Gee, I'm not sure. It'd be nice if there was some...guy that I could handle living with. I don't—hm...I don't know if I have, perchance, come across anyone like that lately."

"Knock it off." He flicks off the stovetop and moves to find two plates in the cupboard. "I'm surprised you would actually want to live with me."

"Why's that?"

"I've been nothing but a leech," he says, even as he portions out the meal he's made lovingly with no expectations of repayment. "Taking up your space and using your things—I hardly seem like an ideal roommate to you."

"I don't see it that way." As he sets down a warm plate of food, you admit it wouldn't be so bad to have a live-in chef, either. "You're kind to my belongings and you keep to your own space."

"So," he starts as he sits beside you, offering silverware, "you want to live with me, but only if we have separate bedrooms?"

You roll your eyes, your smile persistent. "I said a two-bedroom unit. If we're up for it, we could just turn the second bedroom into an office or something."

"Right. Because we'd be sharing a bed."

You poke at your rice. "If you'd like."

"Of course I would." He shifts closer. "Am I overstepping it?"

"I don't think so." To be fair, you're still a little shrouded in a fog of passion. Whatever you're saying, you absolutely know it's rooted in excitement.

"Glad to hear it." He takes his dish and eats a bite, thinking on the new proposal. With a swallow and a nod, he decides on a path to take. "I'll take a look at places, then, and find something ideal. You want a place starting in the fall?"

"Yeah. I should be okay during the summer." That leaves a hole in the equation you're working out, and you have to resolve it. "You can...come with me, if you want. I can find a place to house you."

"No, you've done enough. I'll stay with Erwin."

"Seriously? Would he let you?"

"Sure. He'll probably ask me to house-sit while he vacations, anyways. I did it last year."

"Well, that works."

"I would like to visit you, though. Especially for your graduation." With softer eyes, he rests the tines of his fork on his lower lip. "I'll be damned if I miss the ceremony you've worked your ass off for."

"Thank you," you respond sheepishly.

"Of course." He nods to your plate and the neglected meal on it. "How do you usually get back home?"

"I get a bus ticket. The ride is about four or five hours."

"Damn. That sounds awful." He takes a bite, then slouches back against the couch and sprawls an arm behind your back. "Don't bother with that. We'll take my car—I'm sure you can fit your luggage in the trunk."

You copy him and take in a piece of your own meal, chewing while you ponder on his offer. "I wouldn't want you to drive for five hours. That's a pain."

"I want to. Believe it or not, I can handle staying in a car for any amount of time as long as you're with me."

It's stupidly sappy, so damn sappy that you hate yourself for blushing. "You are dramatic. Are you binge-watching romcoms to get lines like that?"

He hums in amusement; your criticism must be welcome. "I say what I'm thinking. It's not my fault if that comes off as mawkish."

"So I've learned. Are you going to be that mushy around our coworkers next year?"

"Maybe. Why not?"

A sardonic harrumph escapes before you can think to stop it."I remember reading the HR documents when I started my internship. Relationships between superiors and their subordinates are put under scrutiny here, for your information."

"Oh." He reaches a conclusion, though not the one you intended to send. "So, we're in a relationship?"

"I—well, yeah. Some sort of relationship, at least. But the powers above might not like that."

"I promise, they won't care. They won't sacrifice either of our talents over a petty rule somewhere." As if to show off his point, he starts his palm against your nape before running fingers up through your hair. "Erwin already knows, and he doesn't give a shit." He pauses. "Well, he does, but his jealousy isn't my problem."

"He's not jealous."

"No? You should see the way he pouts when you come back to me. He might control Paradis, but he doesn't have a hold on you."

You shrug, your eyes pinned to your food. "Apparently you accomplished that first."

"Absolutely not." His caress comes to a halt. "Nobody owns you but you."

It's a blessing to hear. It's a sign that the monster has become a human being at last, and has grown enough of a heart to recognize where you exist alongside him. No longer beneath him like a subjugated pet, but by his side as a capable person with as much autonomy as him. Whatever comes next with him, you're eagerly looking forward to it.

"Thank you, Levi. That—that really does mean a lot."

"It should be expected." Shifting closer, he lowers his hand to hug your shoulders with all the confidence of an intimate partner. "Don't get all whiny with gratitude."

"Yeah, but..." You don't exactly know how to explain what you're feeling. Merely because something is a should doesn't mean it has always been the norm. Typical behavior has been unknown to both of you so far. "Things used to be different. That's all."

"Yes, they did. I won't forget everything that's happened." He evens out his voice, speaking low and gentle. "All I can hope is that you'll continue to be gracious to me."

"I will, of course. You know that."

"I think I do. I may just need you to remind me every so often."

"Anytime, Levi."