[A/N: This random idea popped into my head…Not really sure what I am going to do with it…]

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Questions Better Left Unanswered

Many girls fantasied about being swept away in whirlwind romances by a prince in disguise or an heir to a vast fortune; thoughts filled with exotic locations and exquisite clothing, decadent hotels and mansions, bitter jealousies and proclamations of passion, and—of course—nights filled with endless love-making.

Many girls wanted pretty words, flowering speeches about love, from the perfect packaging, a flawless facade of masculinity. If there was a physical defect, it would only be something to cause the barring to appear prettily rugged or reasonably dangerous; any emotional damage could be healed by the love of the right woman.

Levy was like many girls in many ways…

But where so many wanted the hero, she had always been drawn to the villain.

After all, a story was only as good as the hero's opposition. Place in a weak or comically bad antagonist into a plot and any promise the tale might have had was squandered.

When she first met Gajeel, Levy thought he was the most terrifying individual she had ever encountered.

No one would have blamed her thinking such. Not when a petite librarian found herself being towered over by a heavily pierced man in the stereotypical 'bad boy' attire of ripped jeans and boots with the worn material of his shirt strained across broad shoulders and a chiseled torso. Especially when said man smelled heavily of motor oil and alcohol. Not when crimson eyes glared down at her from behind a tangled mass of black hair that probably had never been introduced to a brush.

Turned out that he just wanted help finding a book and was became lost in the community library's stacks, but no one would blame her if they knew her initial impression of him was being ninety-three percent certain that he was a serial killer.

When she met Gajeel a second time, a few short days later, he was saving her life.

A moment in her life Levy still shuddered at the thought of, the star of many a nightmare. Not because of the 'hero,' who may have scared even the most hardened of criminals with the sneer her eyes cleared to, but from the memory of her lungs constricting in desperation for air.

And now, several months since…

"Oh…oh…oh God…" Arm thrown over her eyes, Levy tried to bite her lip to keep herself from embarrassing herself further and reached over her head to hook around the pillow she was barely resting on.

Calloused fingers moved her arm from her eyes, digits twining through her shaking ones to hold the obstacle amongst her damp, mussed locks of blue, drawing him in deeper and causing her legs to wrap about his hips to prevent him from pulling away once more.

"There…There!" She wasn't sure if she was ordering or pleading. Hand slipping free of his, her back arched as nails dug into the rumpled sheets around her.

Fanged teeth grazed the sensitive nipple of one breast, tasting her sweat-dewed skin like one would savor a dumpling, and caressed the other with the barest of touches. It was enough to cause her to tumble into euphoria while feeling him finally allowing himself to do the same.

"Fuck…that was hot." Gajeel panted a chuckle, weight on elbows but face buried in the crock of her neck; lips finding the junction where shoulder met throat, sending goose flesh along Levy's skin. Stands of his chaotic mane mingling with her currently tussled waves. Body already telling her that he still had another round in mind.

"I—" Levy tried to catch her breath and will her heart rate to slow, "I thought we were going out to eat."

"Yeah, but this is far more fun." Nuzzling her earlobe, his palms slide under her to squeeze her ass. "Why put clothes on when we can just have take-out in bed?"

Because former constituted as a date, something actual coupled went on, while the latter muddled the waters.

Were they exclusive?

Was she his girlfriend?

Did he care for her on any level beyond the obvious physical attraction?

Was she a complete fool for allowing herself to become involved? To say, when asked by interested others, that she was seeing someone? For clearly investing more into what they had than he did.

Was this all one-sided?

They had never had 'The Talk' and now, after so many months of such antics, Levy had no idea how to breech into that territory. Meaning that she couldn't even be mad at him when, if she tried to subtly create a more emotionally intimate mood via outing and venue, they ended up naked and in bed. Not only because she wasn't sure if that wasn't all he was interested in but also because she didn't particularly resist him when he gave her that mischievous smirk on answering her knocks, gathering her up into his arms the moment she stepped into his apartment each night and kissing her thoroughly enough that her legs gave way.

Moans painted her lips as he kneaded the lushness of her backside, lifting her off the mattress so she straddled his lap. Legs wrapping about him once more as her head fell back to grant him ideal access on assaulting her neck, collarbone, and breasts.

"Fuck," she could feel his growl through where her body was pressed to his as he eased into her. "Why can't I get enough of you?"

And why did he have to say such things that made her wonder, to potentially misread, that there was a glimmer of room for the slightest degree of hope?

Pushing against his shoulders, she eased him onto his back as one hand remained sprawled over the ridges of his lower abs and the other rested behind her, heel of her hand digging into the steely muscles of his thigh. Collapsing onto his chest when her passion reached its zenith, bone-weary and too exhausted to even push herself off him and back onto the bedding.

Later, she woke curled on her side with muscle-hardened arms around her, back to chest with the faint sensation of her hair being brushed off her face and lips feathering along in skin that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with being simply adored…all remnants of a dream far sweeter than the truth.

The bed was empty and a faint light was coming from under the partially closed door.

"—barge in here like this, but really didn't have anywhere else to crash." The voice was feminine an unfamiliar.

Climbing out from the blankets, Levy grabbed up the clothing that had been discarded nearly the moment she entered the apartment, tugging on her loose, orange and yellow checkered swinging dress and almost toppling over herself while pulling on the leggings—having thought to look casually nice when they went out on the date that she was starting to think would never happen—when Gajeel's voice rumbled through the walls.

"Don't worry about it. Just let me know next time you're going to let yourself in. If I had known, I wouldn't have had company over."

Letting herself in?

Gajeel had spare keys to his place floating around?

Levy still had to be buzzed up whenever she came over, despite the fact that she spent the majority of her nights there…

"Company, huh?" The voice was full of affectionate, possibly flirtatious, mockery. "Is Juvia interrupting a booty call?"

"You know I fucking hate it when you talk about yourself in the third person."

"Doesn't answer my question."

Peering through the crack between the door and the frame, the first thing Levy saw was Gajeel, wearing jeans hanging low on his hips with nothing else to accompany them, standing on the living room side of his kitchen's island. Back to towards the bedroom and facing whoever sat at one of the island's stools.

"You hungry? I have some left-overs in the fridge." Moving towards the appliance, he left his station and placed his companion on clear sight.

She was beautiful.

Levy would liken her to a porcelain doll, going from the flawless tone of her alabaster skin, except there was nothing doll-like the full breasts filling the stretched out sweater she wore. Standing, trekking across the tiles to look over Gajeel's shoulder, Levy saw that it was actually a sweater dress that allowed her mile-long legs to be appreciated.

Her hair was blue.

Long and glossy, the locks—more like perfectly sculpted loose curls than frizzed waves—were pulled into a ponytail that swung about her shoulders.

And everything was suddenly brought into perfect clarity.

The nature of Levy's relationship with Gajeel could not be better summarized than the smile he flashed the woman, Juvia, as she reached past him to accept the half a sandwich he offered.

Levy was nothing more than a substitute, a stand-in, a proxy sex-partner.

And she was looking at who she was temporarily replacing.

[A/N: So, above said that I did not know what I was going to do with this. There are two possible options. One is shorter and fluffier while the other—still fluffy—has a good degree more angst. Neither are particular too long. Please let me know which one you would prefer and please comment any/all thoughts—for good or for bad!]