#leona

Ruggie Bucchi

Minajael Tealrajah

Rielle Corallia

“Well?” His voice was a low rumble, a lazy challenge. “You’ve been staring at me for five minutes. It’s your day. Spit it out.”

You twisted your fingers together, heart hammering against your ribs. “You said… anything I wanted.”

“I did.” He stretched, the muscles of his abdomen tightening and rolling under his smooth tan skin. He wore only a pair of low sitting sleep pants, the defined V of his hips clearly visible. “Birthday privilege. So, what’ll it be, herbivore? Want me to do all the work? Want me to take you against the wall?” A slow, predatory grin spread across his face. “Or do you have something more… creative in mind?”

The question hung in the air, swallowing became hard for you when his eyes were fixated on you like this. Your gaze drifted to the set of silk cords he used to tie back the bed curtains, discarded on his nightstand. An idea, bold and maybe a bit terrifying, came into your head.

“I want you to not be in charge” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush.

One of his brows arched. “Oh?”

“I want you to… let me.” You gestured vaguely toward the cords. “To humor me.”

Leona’s grin didn’t fade, it simply changed, becoming more intrigued. He followed your gesture, his gaze landing on the silken ropes. A low chuckle vibrated in his chest. “Tch. You want to restraint me?” He shifted, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his hand. “You think you can handle me?”

“You said anything.”

“So I did.” He held your gaze for a long moment, the air between you crackling. Then, with a sigh, he rolled onto his back, spreading his arms wide. “Fine. Have at it. But if you’re boring, I’m taking over.”

Your hands trembled only slightly as you picked up the cords. They were cool against your skin. You climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs, feeling the solid heat of him even through the fabric. Leona watched you through half-lidded eyes, his expression one of amused tolerance, waiting to see what you’d do.

You started with his wrists, looping the silk around one and tying it securely, but not too tightly, to the ornate bedpost above his head. He let his arm go limp, offering no resistance. The act of binding him, of seeing his powerful wrist secured by your knot, sent a jolt of power straight to your core. You repeated the process with his other wrist, until he was stretched out before you looking like a feast.

“Satisfied?” he purred, testing the bonds with a subtle flex (you knew he could get out of them easily but he still humored you).

“Not even close” you whispered, finding a strange confidence now that he was kinda physically restrained.

You leaned down, your lips finding his in a kiss that was all your own, slow, exploring, tasting him. He kissed back, but it was different, he followed your lead, letting you set the the pace. You broke the kiss, trailing your mouth down the strong column of his throat, feeling his pulse jump under your lips. Your hands slid down his chest, mapping the hard planes, tracing the lines of his ribs, dipping towards his navel.

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his pants. You looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyes were dark now, the lazy amusement replaced. He gave a slight nod.

You pulled the fabric down, freeing him.

He was already hard, his cock springing up against his stomach. It was a beautiful sight, thick and long, the shaft a shade darker than the skin of his stomach, traced with prominent veins running up his shaft. The head was a flushed, deep mauve, already glistening with a single bead of moisture at the slit.

“See something you like?” he murmured, his voice rougher.

Instead of answering, you lowered your head.

You didn’t take him in your mouth immediately. You nuzzled the hot, velvety skin of his inner thigh first, inhaling his clean, musky scent. You licked a slow stripe from the base of his shaft up to the tip, collecting that first salty-sweet drop on your tongue. Leona’s breath caught, a sharp intake, his hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk, but the restraints held him.

That, the proof that he was affected, that he wasn’t in control (or at least pretended to not be) fueled you. You opened your mouth and took the head of his cock inside, swirling your tongue around the sensitive ridge beneath it. A low, ragged groan tore from his throat.

“Fuck…” he hissed, his tail lashing against the sheets.

You took him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth, your mouth filling with the taste of him, skin, salt. You set a slow, deliberate rhythm, one hand wrapping around the base of his shaft to stroke what your mouth couldn’t reach. Your other hand drifted lower, cupping the heavy weight of his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. His entire body tensed, the muscles in his arms corded as he slightly pulled against the silk ties.

“Eyes on me” he gritted out.

You glanced up, your mouth still working him, and found his gaze locked on you. The look in his eyes was raw, stripped of its usual lazy arrogance. It was pure, unfiltered hunger, watching you take your pleasure from him. You moaned around his length, the vibration making his thighs tremble.

You increased your pace, your head bobbing faster, your tongue pressing hard along the vein on the underside. Saliva mixed with his own fluid, creating a slick, obscene sound that filled the quiet room. Your own need was a throbbing ache between your legs, ignored but still present. This was about him, about reducing the proud, lazy lion to a trembling, pleading mess under your ministrations.

“Gonna… ngh… you’re gonna make me…” he warned, his voice a strained growl. His hips were pushing up in tiny, desperate thrusts, meeting your mouth. “Stop or I’ll—”

You didn’t stop. You sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks, your hand pumping in tandem. You watched his face, the clench of his jaw, the flutter of his eyelids, the way his lips parted on a silent cry.

His release was sudden, he let out a shou, raw and guttural as his cock pulsed in your mouth, jet after jet of warm, bitter cream hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed, taking everything he gave, your own body clenching in pleasure. His hips bucked wildly against the restraints as he emptied himself, his chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin.

You pulled off slowly, licking your lips, watching him come down. He was surprisingly a wreck, tied, spent, panting. His eyes opened, hazy and sated, finding yours.

A slow, wicked smile curled your lips. You shifted, crawling up his body until you were straddling his hips again, your clothed core hovering just above his softening, glistening cock.

“Happy birthday to me” you whispered.

His eyes cleared, focusing on you “You think we’re done?” he rasped, his voice wrecked. “That was just the appetizer, herbivore. My turn to give you my present.”