Levy Mcgarden | Fairy Tail - Fanart

The faint scent of old paper and arcane magic always clung to Levy McGarden, a comforting aroma that usually settled her mind. Tonight, however, it was amplified by the flickering candlelight, casting dancing shadows across the meticulously organized shelves of her personal study. Rain pattered softly against the windowpanes, a rhythmic lullaby that underscored the quiet intimacy of the late hour. Levy, her signature blue hair tied back loosely with a ribbon, was engrossed in a particularly dense tome on ancient runes, her brow furrowed in concentration. But tonight, her focus was a delicate, elusive butterfly, flitting just out of reach of her intellectual grasp. It was a feeling, a warmth in her chest that had been building for weeks, ever since Gajeel Redfox had started frequenting her library, ostensibly to "borrow" obscure texts on iron dragon slayer magic, but lingering for reasons far more complex.

He was a storm, a stark contrast to her quiet haven, yet his presence had begun to feel less like an intrusion and more like an essential element. His gruff exterior, the clanging of his metal skin, the sheer raw power that emanated from him – it all was slowly, irrevocably, chipping away at her carefully constructed composure. Tonight, he was here again. The heavy, resonant thud of his boots announced his arrival, a familiar sound that sent a tremor of anticipation through her. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a silent, imposing figure silhouetted against the dimmer light of the hallway. His crimson eyes, usually sharp and observant, held a softer, more contemplative gaze as they swept over her, lingering on the delicate curve of her neck, the way her blue hair cascaded over her shoulders.

"Still buried in those dusty scrolls, shrimp?" Gajeel's voice rumbled, a low growl that was surprisingly devoid of its usual teasing edge. It held a hint of something else, something that made Levy's heart skip a beat and a blush creep up her neck, a hue that almost rivaled the crimson of his eyes.

"They're not dusty, Gajeel," Levy replied, her voice a little breathier than she intended. She looked up from her book, her sapphire blue eyes meeting his. "They're… informative. And I'm not really 'buried' anymore, I'm making progress." A small, nervous smile played on her lips. She felt exposed under his scrutiny, her intellect suddenly feeling less like armor and more like a flimsy veil. The air between them thrummed with an unspoken current, a silent conversation that had been building with every shared glance, every accidental brush of their hands, every shared laugh that had become increasingly charged.

Gajeel pushed off the doorframe, his heavy footsteps approaching her desk. He didn't speak, but the silence was more potent than any words. He stopped beside her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint, metallic tang of his magic. He reached out, his large, calloused fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the ancient script on the page. His touch, usually so rough and imposing, was surprisingly gentle as it grazed her own fingertips, sending a jolt of pure electricity through her. Levy's breath hitched, her mind suddenly a whirlwind of sensations. The scent of him, a mix of iron and something uniquely Gajeel, filled her senses. His proximity was overwhelming, both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Interesting," he murmured, his gaze still fixed on the runes, but his attention clearly elsewhere. "Looks complicated. Like figuring out what goes on in that tiny head of yours." The teasing was back, but softened, laced with a curiosity that felt more personal than ever. Levy swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "It is complicated," she managed, her voice barely a whisper. "But also beautiful, in its own way. Like a puzzle waiting to be solved." She dared to meet his eyes, and in their depths, she saw a reflection of her own longing, a raw, untamed desire that mirrored the storm brewing within her.

He lowered his hand, his fingers brushing against hers again, lingering this time. The contact was electric, a spark igniting a wildfire within her. Levy's body tensed, her senses on high alert. She could feel the pounding of her heart against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the quiet rain. He was so close now, she could see the intricate details of his iron scales, the faint scars that crisscrossed his skin, each one a testament to his strength and resilience. And yet, in this moment, all she could focus on was the raw, masculine energy that radiated from him, the magnetic pull that drew her in, helpless and eager.

Gajeel's gaze dropped from the book to her face, his crimson eyes softening as they met her own. The usual hardened expression melted away, replaced by a vulnerability she had rarely seen. "Beautiful, huh?" he rasped, his voice a low, husky murmur that vibrated through her. He reached out again, not to the book this time, but to her. His rough fingertips gently traced the line of her jaw, sending shivers down her spine. Levy instinctively leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a fleeting moment. The scent of rain and Gajeel’s unique musk filled the air, a intoxicating perfume that clouded her thoughts.

He tilted her chin up, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. Levy's breath hitched as his gaze deepened, a silent question hanging in the air between them. The tension in the room crackled, thick and palpable, a prelude to something inevitable, something they had both been desperately avoiding, and yet, secretly craving. The rain outside intensified, the drumming on the roof a frantic echo of the storm building within their hearts. Levy's mind, usually so quick and analytical, was reduced to a single, overwhelming thought: him. She wanted him. More than she had ever wanted anything in her life.

Gajeel’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something akin to possessiveness igniting within them. He leaned closer, his breath fanning her lips. "You always smell like… old paper," he murmured, his voice rough with an emotion that made her tremble. "But tonight… tonight you smell different. Like… like flowers after a storm." His gaze was intense, fixated on her lips, and Levy’s own lips parted slightly in anticipation. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a wild bird trapped in her chest, desperate to escape. She could feel the heat emanating from him, the sheer power he contained, and yet, in this moment, it was all directed towards her, a protective, possessive force that made her feel both vulnerable and incredibly safe.

"Gajeel…" she whispered, the sound barely audible, a plea and a surrender all at once. His eyes flared, the crimson deepening as if a fire had been kindled within them. He closed the remaining distance between them, his lips pressing against hers. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, not at first. It was a claim, a desperate assertion of something he had held back for too long. His mouth was firm, demanding, tasting of iron and a raw, unbridled passion. Levy responded with equal fervor, her hands rising to grasp his shoulders, her fingers digging into the rough texture of his scales. She felt the rumble of a low growl in his chest, a sound that was both animalistic and deeply affectionate. The kiss deepened, becoming a dance of desperation and discovery. Her mind, once so ordered and logical, was now a chaotic whirl of pure sensation. She felt the press of his body against hers, the hard planes of his chest, the immense strength coiled within him, now being directed at her, entirely for her.

His tongue, rough and insistent, sought hers, and Levy met it with a boldness she never knew she possessed. They tangled together, a desperate exploration, a mutual surrender. The scent of old books and arcane magic was overwhelmed by the intoxicating musk of Gajeel and the rising heat of their passion. Her blue hair, now unbound, cascaded around them, a silken curtain that framed their entwined faces. His hands moved, sliding from her jaw to her waist, pulling her flush against him. She could feel the hard ridge of his arousal pressing against her, a tangible testament to his desire, a mirrored ache blooming within her own body. The rain outside continued its relentless beat, a rhythm section for their burgeoning symphony of lust.

With a low groan, Gajeel broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. His breath came in ragged gasps, his crimson eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. "Shrimp… damn it," he growled, the nickname a sign of their shared history, now infused with a possessive endearment that made her knees weak. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his gaze sweeping over her face, lingering on her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the wide, luminous sapphire blue of her eyes. "I've wanted this… for so damn long." His voice was thick with emotion, a vulnerability that struck Levy to the core, disarming her completely.

Levy’s hands trembled as she reached up, her fingers tracing the rough edges of his iron scales. "I… I wanted it too," she admitted, her voice a shaky whisper. The admission hung in the air, a sacred vow. Gajeel’s eyes darkened further, a primal hunger igniting within them. He kissed her again, more deliberately this time, a kiss that spoke of possession, of ownership, of a deep, burning need. His hands began to explore, his rough fingers tracing the delicate curve of her spine, then sliding to her hips, pulling her closer still. Levy gasped as his touch ignited her skin, her body responding with an eagerness that shocked even her. She felt herself arching into him, her own hands beginning to unbutton his tunic, eager to feel the heat of his skin against hers.

The worn fabric of his tunic gave way, revealing the powerful, sculpted muscles of his chest, the intricate patterns of his iron scales glinting in the candlelight. Levy let out a soft moan as her fingers brushed against the cool, hard metal, then the surprisingly warm skin beneath. Gajeel’s grip tightened on her waist, and he pulled her closer, their bodies pressing together, a perfect, searing fit. He began to kiss her neck, his rough lips trailing fire along her sensitive skin, eliciting shivers that ran through her entire body. Levy tilted her head back, offering him more access, her breath coming in ragged pants.

"You drive me crazy, Levy," he growled, his voice a low rumble against her skin. "You and your… bookish ways. But damn, when you let loose…" His words trailed off as his lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear, and Levy cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The storm outside seemed to mirror the tempest raging within her, a crescendo of sensation building with each passing moment. She felt herself losing control, the carefully constructed walls of her intellect crumbling under the onslaught of raw, unadulterated passion. Her blue hair, now a disheveled halo around her face, brushed against his skin as she writhed against him, her body aching with a yearning that was almost unbearable.

Gajeel’s hands moved lower, his touch sending waves of pleasure through her. He unbuttoned her blouse with surprising dexterity, his rough fingers not hindering his pursuit of her skin. The cool air of the study hit her exposed chest, making her shiver, but Gajeel’s warmth was a far more potent sensation. He knelt before her, his crimson eyes burning with an intensity that made her heart pound. He gently pushed aside the fabric of her blouse, his gaze devouring the sight of her delicate form. Levy blushed, but not with shame. It was a blush of pure, unadulterated arousal, a testament to the power he held over her.

His rough hands, usually so capable of wielding destruction, were surprisingly tender as they cupped her breasts. He kissed them, his lips leaving trails of fire on her sensitive skin. Levy gasped, arching her back, her fingers tangling in his dark hair. "Gajeel…" she whimpered, the sound choked with pleasure. He suckled on one of her nipples, his rough tongue teasing and tormenting her, sending jolts of exquisite agony through her. Levy’s knees buckled, and she would have fallen if he hadn’t been there, his strong arms supporting her, pulling her onto the plush rug beside her desk. The scattered books and scrolls were forgotten, the only thing that mattered was the heat, the touch, the raw, unyielding passion that consumed them.

He stripped away the rest of her clothes with a primal urgency, his eyes never leaving hers, devouring every inch of her exposed form. Levy, in turn, unburdened him of his tunic, her hands exploring the hard planes of his chest, the intricate patterns of his iron scales, the surprisingly soft skin beneath. She traced the scar that ran across his collarbone, her touch sending a tremor through him. He let out a low growl, a sound of pure, unadulterated need. Then, with a decisive movement, he pushed her back onto the rug, his body following hers, pinning her gently beneath him. Her blue hair fanned out around her, a vibrant contrast against the dark rug. Her skin, flushed and dewy with sweat, seemed to glow in the flickering candlelight.

His gaze was electric, a silent question that Levy answered with a trembling nod. He lowered himself onto her, his weight both comforting and overwhelming. She could feel the full length of his arousal pressing against her, a burning, insistent pressure that made her breath catch in her throat. He kissed her deeply again, a searing, possessive kiss that stole her breath and her reason. His hands explored her body with a newfound boldness, caressing her thighs, her stomach, his touch igniting fires wherever he went. Levy moaned, her hands instinctively moving to his hips, pulling him closer, urging him on.

"You're so soft, shrimp," he rasped, his voice a rough caress against her ear. "So damn soft." He positioned himself between her legs, and Levy’s hips instinctively rose to meet him. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a sweet, agonizing ache that throbbed deep within her. With a final, guttural groan, Gajeel thrust into her. It was a powerful, unyielding invasion, yet it was also a perfect fit, a joining of two halves that had been longing for each other. Levy cried out, her body convulsing around him, her nails digging into his shoulders. The initial pain quickly gave way to a pleasure so intense, so overwhelming, that it threatened to shatter her very core. She felt herself opening to him, accepting him completely, her body and soul entwined with his.

He moved within her, his thrusts deep and powerful, each one sending tremors of ecstasy through her. The sounds of their passion filled the small study, the rain outside a distant murmur against the symphony of their moans and gasps. Levy could feel the slickness of their joined bodies, the friction, the exquisite pressure building within her. She clung to Gajeel, her blue hair a silken tangle against his skin, her sapphire eyes locked on his, reflecting the raw, animalistic pleasure she saw there. "Gajeel…" she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. "Don't stop…" He responded with a rough groan, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more demanding. He kissed her fiercely, stealing her breath, his body moving in a primal rhythm that was both ancient and brand new.

Levy felt herself nearing the precipice, the wave of pleasure building, threatening to consume her. She arched her back, her entire body quivering, her senses overloaded. Gajeel’s eyes blazed, his muscles straining as he drove deeper into her. He whispered her name, a rough, possessive declaration that sent shivers of delight down her spine. Then, with a final, earth-shattering thrust, he came inside her. Levy screamed, her body convulsing around him, a tidal wave of pure, unadulterated bliss washing over her. She felt his seed filling her, a warm, potent flood that sealed their union. Gajeel let out a guttural roar, his body shuddering with the force of his climax, his face buried in her neck.

They lay tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat, their breathing ragged. The silence that followed their storm was profound, filled with the echoes of their passion. Levy’s head rested on Gajeel’s chest, her fingers tracing the patterns of his scales. His arm was wrapped tightly around her, his heart pounding a steady rhythm against her ear. The rain had subsided to a gentle drizzle, and the moonlight, now peeking through the clouds, cast a soft, ethereal glow on the room. Levy felt a profound sense of peace, of contentment, a deep, unshakeable connection to the man who had shattered her composure and awakened a fire she never knew she possessed.

Gajeel’s rough hand gently stroked her blue hair, his touch surprisingly tender. "You okay, shrimp?" he rasped, his voice still thick with the aftershocks of their encounter. Levy tilted her head up, her sapphire eyes meeting his. A soft smile played on her lips. "More than okay," she whispered, her voice filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the lingering heat between their bodies. She reached up, her fingers brushing away a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Thank you, Gajeel." He grunted, a sound that could have been anything, but Levy understood it. It was acceptance, it was reciprocation, it was a silent promise.

He lowered his head, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a kiss of comfort, of reassurance, a quiet declaration of affection that spoke volumes. He shifted, carefully pulling away from her, but not entirely. He pulled her closer, wrapping her in his arms, her head resting on his chest, his arm a comforting weight around her. Levy sighed contentedly, the scent of iron and Gajeel filling her senses, no longer a sign of an intruder, but of a lover, a protector, a storm that had finally found its calm. The books and scrolls lay scattered around them, forgotten relics of a life that now felt a little less defined, a little more beautifully, wonderfully, intertwined.