Work Text:
Naesala and Leanne’s relationship is difficult to explain: they love each other in a way that could be described as romantic, but not necessarily. They are both aware of their respective roles in the United Bird Tribes, Naesala as the reject ambassador who will have to work his entire life to undo the damage he’s caused as king of Kilvas, while Leanne will be the beacon of salvation, and the means by which the heron population will grow once again.
She will likely become Tibarn’s bride, and only those selected few will know that it will only be a farce: like Tibarn would care for any hole that isn’t Reyson’s. Still, they can’t allow an entire race to go extinct; if the new generation of herons has to be half-breeds, it’s be best if the other half comes from the hawks, and not the ravens.
There are many voices going around that Naesala is seething because of this choice, but to tell the truth he doesn’t really care: first of all, he dreads the thought of being a father – he’s too young for it – so if the little beasts won’t be his it only means that they won’t be his problem. Besides, he knows he will still be able to see Leanne, because Tibarn will be too busy with Reyson to satisfy her needs and because she’d never let him forbid it.
They can posture all they want, but in the end the one who will benefit from this arrangement the most will be none other than him, so if they want to make him appear like a scorned lover, left to the side in favor of the bigger, manlier suitor, so be it.
He’s gone so long not caring about what others think of him, he certainly won’t begin now.
Leanne is much less thrilled than him about the prospect, since it concerns her directly, but she’s aware of what’s at stake: the survival of the heron race.
If she’s barred from formally choosing her mate, however, under closed doors she will act as she wants, doing the bare minimum with Tibarn to focus on who she actually wants.
There is always the risk of an unplanned pregnancy – Naesala knows that if Leanne ever bears a raven child he’ll be done for – but that just means that they have to be creative, like they’re being in this exact moment.
He didn’t hide his surprise when she revealed her idea, not because he never thought she’d be interested in it, but because he has no idea where she’s learned it from; it wasn’t from him, for once. The worst thing is that she keeps refusing to tell him, which makes his desire to know even stronger, but he supposes he can put the subject aside in favor of agreeing with Leanne’s idea. Why shouldn’t they try, after all?
He hasn’t been with many people, despite what the general consesus might be: ruling a ruined kingdom does wonders to keep your libido in check. Those he has chosen, those moments when only the warmth of another body could keep him going, had all been quite different from one another, and carried different kinds of “packages”.
That’s to say that Naesala is familiar with the concept of what Leanne has proposed, only that he’s always taken a leading role, never trusting anyone enough to let them have him in a more vulnerable position.
He is curious about how it feels, and there’s nobody he’d trust more than Leanne to show him, so he finds himself feeling childishly giddy at the idea of trying it with her.
Thankfully, she finds it cute, and doesn’t make fun of him for it, which makes him feel less bad about having emotions he can’t control.
He offers to get all they need, being the one who knows best where to look for them, but Leanne has already beaten him to it, saying that she already has everything. Another surprise: and where did she get all this stuff from? This isn’t something one can go to the local market and ask if they have it in stock, after all.
She still keeps her lips sealed as to where she got it, and from whom, though he doesn’t mind as much as he's making it look like: there is nothing he loves more than a little mystery to solve, and Leanne has just served him one on a silver platter. Eventually, he will find out; she must know it too, that’s why she insists on keeping it a secret: she wants him to have some entertainment, among the amounts of work he has to do as a diplomat. How sweet of her.
This is not the right time for mysteries, however, as Naesala will soon have something much more important to focus on, namely the figure in front of him.
If Reyson or Tibarn could see her now, they would have a heart attack: completely naked, save for a leather harness that envelops her hips and thighs in a way that surprisingly suits her. She has tied her hair behind, pragmatically thinking that, long as they are, they would just get in the way – Naesala knows for certain they will. It makes her look even more exposed, especially when comparing this attire to the much more modest vests she usually wears, but Naesala would be blind not to notice how her beauty is enhanced by the confident air she has about her: she doesn’t feel ashamed of this, that’s the most important part of her new look, what truly makes her shine.
How foolish of him, to forget the most important part of this transgressive look: a leathery reproduction of a cock, kept high between her legs by the harness, its surface shining under the low light of the candles. It isn’t the most impressive dick he’s ever seen in all his life – even his own is bigger – but that dick will soon be inside of him, so he’s glad she’s decided to begin with something easy to fit. Maybe, after some practice, they could start going for something bigger…
“How do I look?” Leanne asks, like the answer isn’t written on Naesala’s face already or she couldn’t sense it coming from inside him. She’s obviously fishing for compliments, but Naesala can’t even begrudge her for doing it: he would’ve done the same after all.
“Stunning, my dear,” he answers, before beckoning her to join him on the bed. “Don’t make me beg, please.”
He’d do it if she demands it, they both know it, but in her eagerness to continue she barely gives the prospect any thought, before striding towards him with a confidence that is usually hard to notice for anyone who isn’t Naesala – he never made the mistake of underestimating her, not even when they were younger.
She doesn’t join him on the bed yet, standing to his side instead. His eyes can’t help but be drawn to her fake cock, and he swallows; there’s a part of him that feels small despite the fact that the difference in height between them goes actually in his favor.
Is he overdressed, or the contrary? He’s only removed his shirt, partly because that’s how he feels most comfortable when in his private quarters, partly because of his eagerness to get started, but he’s starting to feel like he’s doing something wrong.
He’s so in over his head that he hasn’t even bothered keeping his thoughts as quiet as he could, meaning that Leanne is able to read them. She stretches her hands towards him, cupping his face and gently moving him so that he can look at her in the eyes. “Naesala, you’re nervous.”
“A little…” he admits, because there’s no use lying to someone who can read his mind. He doesn't regret having agreed to this, that’s not the point, he just wants it to be good for Leanne, but for once he finds himself not really knowing what to do. This kind of helplessness is something he always tries to avoid, because he hates how vulnerable it makes him feel.
With Leanne, however, things are different: even with how uneasy uncertainty makes him feel, he knows she will be there to catch him if he falls. He can lean on her, knowing that he’ll be safe if he does it.
“It’ll be alright,” she soothes him, her voice melodic even when she speaks, only to add with a more malicious tone, “but would sucking me off help?”
It was Naesala, so many years ago, that taught her those words: after finding out that one could swear even in the Ancient Tongue, he had spread the news as widely as he could, avoiding of course those people who would’ve reprimanded him for it. Leanne was one of the first to know, though she hadn’t been able to grasp their meaning – Naesala had been so eager to share his findings that he had forgotten that she most likely didn’t even know what sex was – and he had been too embarrassed to explain it to her.
It sends a shiver down his spine hearing her talk that way and with such confidence too. She’s come so far; it feels like a privilege to be able to see it in first person, not that Naesala wasn’t already aware of how lucky he is, for many things but especially for her.
He’s not sure what she’d gain by having him blow her fake cock, but he can’t say that it doesn’t intrigue him, so he nods. If it helps him get out of his head, he’ll do it.
She rewards him with a kiss to the forehead – a chuckle escapes his lips at the gesture – before presenting him her cock. She looks so proud of it that it’s endearing to see, Naesala won’t lie.
This, at least, doesn’t intimidate him: at the cost of sounding arrogant, he’ll admit that he’s pretty well-versed in the art of dick sucking, as Leanne will soon find out. He has a penchant for oral stimulation in general, to tell the truth: he enjoys feeling his partners unravel under his careful ministrations.
He parts his lips, waiting for Leanne to inch even closer, eyes not leaving hers. She holds his gaze, to the point that it becomes a bit of a playful challenge to see who will be the first to look away; they’re both pretty shameless, so it’ll likely end in a draw, but the possibility that someone might lose is what makes it fun.
The fake cock, surprisingly, tastes like nothing in particular. He thought he’d have to power through the sense of unpleasantness while taking it in his mouth, but it doesn’t seem to be the case, a pleasant surprise.
He goes slowly at first, caring more about giving a show to his dear Leanne than doing an actual good job – she cannot feel it, after all – while she looks at him enthralled.
Her hips begin to shake quite soon; Naesala doesn’t need to be able to read minds to know what she wants: he raises his hands to grab hers, still delicately holding his head, and squeezes, knowing that Leanne will understand immediately that he wants her to do it too. Permission granted, she begins tentatively thrusting inside his mouth, going deeper and faster as she gains confidence, and sees firsthand that Naesala isn’t struggling as much as she feared. She can afford to be a bit rough on him, he can handle it.
It’s a strange sensation, she quickly finds out: even though what Naesala has in his mouth is external to her body, she still feels a tingle between her legs. Maybe the sight is enough to make her feel this way, but she wants more, so she waits until Naesala has relaxed enough to pull away – his disappointed pout when she does it is so cute – and she orders him:
“I want to see you. Lose your clothes.”
Naesala chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”
He thought Leanne would join him down there and help him, but she remains where she is, eyes fixated on him, waiting. She wants him to do all the work then, huh? So be it.
This time, his movements are quick and efficient, certainly nothing that would be enticing to look at, but it gets the job done fast and that’s all that matters. Besides, Leanne seems enticed enough even if he’s not putting any effort behind it; good enough.
Once he’s fully naked, he barely has the time to brace himself, because Leanne has decided that that was the right moment to throw herself at him. He catches her, of course, and the two end up completely falling in bed, chuckling like a pair of nestlings who have just managed to pull a prank on their friends.
They kiss without any hint of hurry before Leanne pulls away, using her grip on Naesala’s shoulders to push him further down the mattress, staring at him in that particular way that made him feel smaller than her before.
Possessiveness has never been a typical heron trait, but circumstances seem to have changed that: both Leanne and Reyson, the ones that have changed the most, have developed it in their own way. Perhaps it is more noticeable in him rather than in her, as spending so much time around the hawks has made him blunt and less willing to posture, but that’s only because nobody else except Naesala – to his knowledge – has ever been intimate with her: it’s then that she shows how much she’s grown to be possessive of those she cares about.
“Mine,” she says, eyes still on him. She leans down and kisses him on the lips, just a brief touch before moving down his chin, leaving another kiss, then his jaw, leaving another, and then at the junction between neck and shoulders, biting this time. Her teeth don’t sink in too deep, but the surprise is still enough to make Naesala gasp.
“Yours, always,” he replies through gritted teeth. “But can we get a move on?”
Although he doesn’t mind taking his time, with all the blood that’s flowing down to his dick, he’s soon going to pass out if they don’t do something about it. His words make Leanne giggle, and he too can’t help but smile at the view.
“Alright,” she says. “Turn around, then.”
Naesala feels more exposed than ever in this new position, on his hands and knees, but Leanne knows him and knows how to distract him; she positions herself behind him, then pulls him in a hug, pressing their bodies together like Naesala has done so many times to her. She barely arrives to the point where his wings attach to his back, but the feeling of protection, of intimacy, is the same.
As wholesome as that exchange is, what she does next is of a different nature: she sneaks a hand between his legs, grabbing his aching cock and starting to slowly jerk it off, her touch so delicate that Naesala can barely feel it, but even that is more than enough to almost set him off.
“H-Hey…” he complains in fact, as a deep blush spreads from his face to his neck at the way his voice cracks – he can’t help it, Leanne has this effect on him.
She chuckles at his reaction, but is mercifully enough to pull away before he could truly make a fool of himself by coming prematurely – he wouldn’t have survived the humiliation if that had happened.
He hears some rustling sounds behind him, though he doesn’t dare to move to check out what they are; he already has an idea after all. To confirm his suspicions, when Leanne turns her attention back to him, the first thing she does is squeeze his ass, parting then the cheeks apart; her hands have been oiled, making the skin smoother and more slippery; it’ll make preparing him much easier.
She manages to take him by surprise once again, because she dives in headfirst, tongue darting to lick a stripe across his opening. He gasps, freezing for a moment at the unexpected contact – he can feel her hot breath right against him – and when she repeats the motion, he outright moans.
Leanne continues, pleased by his reaction. It’s too much and too little at the same time; Naesala is unsure on whether to ask for a break or for her to keep going, so he ends up not saying anything at all, rocking his body along with Leanne movements to get as much pleasure as he can.
Is she enjoying the view? Is she enjoying reducing him to such a mess? Naesala doesn’t even need to ask that: of course she is. When she looks up again, she looks absolutely radiant with joy. “More?” she asks, like she can’t read his mind to know that yes, he would like that very much.
If she asked, however, it’s obvious to Naesala that she wants to hear an answer, or else she would’ve simply given him what he wanted. He tries to respond, but his brain has been reduced to such a mush that he can’t even bring himself to speak, so he nods, wordlessly, hoping it’ll be enough for Leanne. She won’t be so cruel as to deny him, right? He would, but he’s a bad person, while Leanne isn’t, so he hopes she’ll be merciful.
She is, though the reason why might reside in her eagerness to continue, rather than a desire to save Naesala from further embarrassment.
He doesn’t dare looking back – if he does, Leanne will be able to see the expression on his face – guessing what is happening solely based on what he can hear: the sound of a cork being opened once again, the sound of liquid flowing on fingers, rubbing oiled skin against oiled skin, the sheets that shift along with Leanne’s movements.
He still can’t help but be surprised at the feeling of something pressing against his hole; it doesn’t take him long to guess that it’s Leanne’s finger – it’s way too small to be the other thing – as she wants to prepare him properly, even insisting on him not doing it by himself beforehand when he suggested the option to waste less time for the main event.
For now, the pressure is gentle, barely there; she keeps massaging him slowly, gradually undoing every last bit of resistance, until she can start pressing in without hurting him. It feels strange, though whether it’s a good kind of strange, or bad, Naesala can’t tell yet; it feels different, he can tell that much.
Leanne, bless her, keeps going slow, letting him get accustomed to the intrusion at his own pace. He doesn’t know if he’s doing well – maybe what little she’s doing shouldn’t affect him this much – but he reminds himself that it doesn’t matter: there’s only Leanne here, who surely won’t judge if it takes him more than a moment to get used to something unfamiliar.
Ever so slowly, a spark of pleasure will grace Naesala’s nerves. The more Leanne keeps going, the more it happens; they’re getting there, finally, to the point that soon she’s able to insert a second finger, under Naesala’s request.
Then, something unexpected happens: she brushes against a particularly sensitive spot, one that sends a shiver down Naesala’s spine and makes him moan loudly. His body twitches, and before he can realize it’s happening, his wing moves, like she’s managed to somehow find the specific bundle of nerves that makes him spread his wings when he needs to take air.
Said wing bumps against Leanne’s face, much to Naesala’s shame. She stops what she’s doing, gently pushing it to the side with an amused smile on her face, one that, however, doesn’t make him feel better about what has happened – if he doesn’t turn, she won’t see how red his face has become.
What makes it worse is that Leanne still hasn’t begun moving yet. “Someone is being naughty,” she singsongs, tapping the fingers of her free hand against Naesala’s back. She’s obviously teasing him, which makes him feel even more ashamed than before.
What can he even say to defend himself? “I can’t help it?” That would make him sound like a child, not like an adult who’s supposed to be in control of himself!
His train of thought is interrupted by Leanne, who resumes moving her fingers inside him; she’s being very cruel, however, because she keeps brushing against that same spot that made him act out in the first place, though she has placed a hand at the base of his wing as precaution – not that she’d be able to hold Naesala back even if she used all her strength, but he’d be careful, not wanting to hurt her.
“Good?” she asks. Despite not being able to see her, he can hear the smirk she’s sporting on her lips; she’s having way too much fun with this, but he can hardly blame her for it, knowing that he’s done the same to her in the past.
“Yeah…” he admits, though he sounds strained from the effort of holding back any kind of twitch that the stimulation is causing him. Soon he won’t be able to focus on the pleasure he’s feeling anymore, unless… “What if I turn back? Might be better...”
“Won’t that be uncomfortable with your wings?” Leanne asks, however. As laguz, they all take pride in their wings, but sometimes they can be a real hassle, especially during intimate situations such as this. She, for example, prefers being taken from behind, to avoid getting her wings sore by placing her weight on them.
Still, he’d rather have them be sore for a while than risk hitting Leanne again, knowing that she’d tease him about it if it happens again. “Eh, I’ve had worse, trust me.”
That’s all it takes to convince Leanne. “Alright, if you say so…”
Neither of them had thought of how intimate it would feel being face to face. There’s something about being able to properly see each other that heightens their senses; maybe it’s the nerves, but neither of them feels nervous, not anymore at least.
Leanne doesn’t exactly tower over Naesala, but feeling her weight against him is nice. He steals a kiss from her, before she can even react, and she answers by pushing her fingers inside him once again, resuming what they were doing before this brief interruption.
Now she’s able not only to feel the change inside him, but also see how the pleasure morphs his traits and changes his expression: half-lidded eyes, lips hanging open to let his moans out, cheeks redder than she’s ever seen, love and vulnerability mixing together to create a powerful combination. He looks to the side at first, her gaze feeling too overwhelming to sustain, but then he takes a peek, and remains paralyzed by the fire he sees burning behind her eyes; she’s never looked at him this way before, not even when they’re alone. There’s a sort of possessiveness that sends a shiver down his spine, makes him think about a life spent with her in the light, about a future where they could actually be together the way they want to, instead of having to rely on subterfuge like they’re forced to do in their current predicament.
It leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth, but when Leanne crooks her fingers against a particular spot, it’s all quickly forgotten, his mind immediately overtaken by an intense pleasure. “Ashera’s tits…”
His cock is resting against his stomach, untouched and yet leaking. Leanne mustn’t have noticed, too enthralled by his reaction, but if she keeps going like that they’ll have to prematurely end their fun, and wouldn’t that be a disappointing end?
“Leanne, we should–” A moan. “I’m ready.”
She cocks her head to the side, studying his face, though he knows that what she’s doing is actually peering into his soul; she must’ve understood that he’s very close to bursting already. She senses his fear of ending the fun before it even begins, and his curiosity to continue – it felt good so far, so it’ll likely feel even better once he’s gotten the real thing – and that manages to convince her to jump to the next part, even though she would’ve preferred to indulge in more preparations, if anything to relish in the view of him squirming under her ministrations. There’s always next time, she supposes.
She nods, slowly removing her fingers from him. Is it weird that he already misses the sensation of being full? No matter, because as he watches Leanne pour a copious amount of oil on her fake cock – some pours on the sheets, but it's a problem they'll deal with in the future – he knows that soon he’ll be filled by something bigger than anything he’s taken this far.
The anticipation he feels is so palpable that Leanne can’t help but chuckle. “And to think you were so nervous before…” she teases him, settling again between his legs.
“I was young and foolish,” he comments, a small smile on his face. She laughs, her melodious voice echoing between the walls, and as cliché as it may sound, he falls in love once again; it’s not the first time this happens – he’s lost count by now – and it surely won’t be the last.
“Of course…” she concedes, amused. The tip of her cock barely brushes against his hole, and he’s already begging again.
“Leanne, please, we’ve waited so long you can’t–”
He should be mad that she’s stealing his trick, starting to push in before he can even finish his sentence, stopping his rambling that wasn’t obviously going anywhere, but to tell the truth he’s proud that she’s not only learned it, but also used it against him.
The stretch burns a bit – it’s not the same thing as two mere fingers – but it wouldn’t be the first time he finds something that hurts pleasurable; he must have something wrong in the head, but that’s how it is. He feels split in two, and who knows how much Leanne has actually managed to push inside him: for all he knows, this might be just the tip, though if it truly is, he has no idea how he’s going to survive the rest. Maybe this is how it ends for him; he can’t tell if this would be a fitting way to go for him or not, but it would surely be memorable – some would even say that he got off the hook too easily.
Only when Leanne stops he realizes that he’s managed to take everything. The time that had stopped until that moment, finally resumes once again; he lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he was keeping, while trying to focus his gaze on anything, but his vision is blurred.
Leanne reaches out for him, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Good?” she asks, her voice shaking – is this having an effect on her too? If so, how much of an effect? If only he were able to read minds as well…
Not trusting his voice, he nods. The initial overwhelming feeling of fullness is finally giving way to something more pleasurable and delicate, as he gets used to the intrusion, which means only one thing: he gently grabs Leanne by the thighs, pulling her further against him in order to get her cock even deeper inside of him. He hisses at the feeling, but not even that is enough to make him change his mind: he wants, no, he needs more.
“You poor thing,” Leanne coos, making him feel like an idiot but also extremely loved at the same time. “Want more?”
There’s no way she doesn’t know already, but if he needs to make it explicit, then he will, even if he feels so wrecked already that his voice is barely recognizable. “Yes!”
At least she’s merciful enough to give him what he wants, at least partly: her movements are slow, and although part of him is grateful that she’s taking her time to let him get adjusted to the feeling, the other is too impatient and would love for her to disregard his comfort for a while and go at full force.
Sensing his thoughts, a frown forms on her face, however. “No, we’ll go slow,” she establishes, unwilling to hear otherwise, knowing that he won’t enjoy it fully if they hurry too much. Doesn’t he always say that patience is a virtue when their positions are swapped, after all? He’d do well to follow his own advice, then.
Leanne is being very cruel to deny Naesala in such a way. No, he’s not pouting about it, despite the damning evidence to the contrary; it’s strange that Leanne hasn’t teased him for it yet, but luckily for him she seems too focused on everything else to also do that.
To tell the truth, he doesn’t mind the slow approach as much as he’s pretending to, finding the repetitive rhythm strangely reassuring.
What is most curious is how Leanne looks affected by this, like she's able to truly feel her cock inside him. It must be his emotions and feelings that are reducing her to such a state; knowing her, she’s surely prying inside his mind, wanting to make sure that everything is feeling good to him. His pleasure must be reverberating inside her mind, that’s the only explanation he has.
Her lack of stamina is starting to show, surely not being helped by the tornado of emotions she’s feeling: she’s shaking from the effort, doing her best to keep up the rhythm, but slightly falling behind. He doesn’t necessarily mind, but he would like to get off, eventually, so he soon proposes a solution that can help them both. “Leanne, want me to ride you?”
That gives her pause, much to his dismay. Thankfully, however, she agrees immediately to the idea, so readily that he can’t help but suspect that she might’ve already fantasized about it, the minx.
It feels strange having her pull out, being suddenly so empty, but it won’t last long; Leanne moves to the side, lying down beside Naesala who, after kissing her softly on the lips, rolls over her, settling on her lap as delicately as he can, without putting his full weight on her poor legs.
Lowering himself on her cock while also trying not to crush her in the process is trickier than he thought – to tell the truth, when he first proposed the change in position he hadn’t even considered what that would entail – but he manages. If he thinks of it as physical exercise, maybe his thighs will burn less for the effort.
At first, he keeps the same rhythm that Leanne did, to get used to the sensation once again, but he soon begins to crave more. He knows that if he lets himself go too much he'll hurt her however, so he resigns himself to having to make do with what he has, until Leanne grabs him by the waist, that is, in an attempt to drag him lower.
“Naesala,” she calls him, “I want to see you, all of you. Please, don’t hold back.”
“But–”
“I can handle it.”
He recognizes the look on her face, one he has come across too many times to count: once she gets fixated on something, there is nothing that can make her change her mind. He could try to explain that he weighs too much, that her body is more delicate than his and can only handle so much, but he’d only be wasting his breath. His hesitation to follow her wish is immediately overcome by the desperate desire to reach the peak: if Leanne says she can handle it, then it means that she can, and if she turns out sore after they’re done, that’s something they’ll have to worry about in the future.
This time, he lets himself completely sink down on her cock, immediately relieved by the return of that wonderful feeling of fullness. He looks down, and Leanne looks up at him. “That’s it,” she coos, smiling at him. It’s all the encouragement he needs.
Having disregarded the idea of holding back, he puts all his effort into chasing the much-desired orgasm, getting closer and closer to it every time he lowers himself on Leanne’s cock. He must look wrecked, but Leanne seems to be doing even worse than him: in the effort to help him reach his goal, she’s trying to do what he does when she rides him, which is to push her hips up when he instead goes down, making the penetration even more intense, but she’s not used to this much effort; her legs are shaking, muscles violently twitching, but she grits her teeth and doesn’t stop, knowing that he’s close.
Being able to set the rhythm without having to worry about crushing her if he goes slightly harder than he should has done wonders, because it doesn’t take long for him to come.
His vision goes white for a moment – maybe he’s screaming too, he’s not present enough to know – and his entire body is seized by a pleasure so intense and strangely different from what he usually feels. Not that he has enough presence of mind to analyze the feeling, but later he will wonder if this is how Leanne feels, when their places are swapped.
Every time he thinks he’s reached the peak, it keeps growing and growing and growing. He feels like he’s going mad.
Then, it all comes crashing down. He has to quickly react not to fall down on Leanne, which was his first instinct; he keeps himself up holding onto the headboard of the bed, thighs seizing and body generally sore, but he’s content, more than content actually. He hadn’t expected it to feel this good, and yet here he is.
He looks down to check on Leanne, only to find her being more of a mess than he is: he must be weighing on her too much, now. It’s a titanic effort, the one he has to pull in order to move, but slowly he manages to raise his hips – her cock sliding out of him perhaps too fast, but he barely registers the discomfort that brings him – and move to the side, allowing her some space to breathe.
“Leanne? Are you alive?”
She chuckles at his words, and turns her head towards him, smiling. “What do you think?” she asks, obviously making fun of him; she’s a big girl that can handle more than it seems, he knows it, but sometimes he can’t help but get worried: she’s still a heron after all. Besides, if anything happened to her that could be traced back to him – nevermind that this was her idea to begin with – everyone will want to have his head, even more than they already do. It’s a fine line, the one he threads, but life wouldn’t be half as fun without it.
Having made sure that she’s fine, another question pushes past his lips: he’s come, after all, but she hasn’t. “Do you need–”
She shakes her head before he can finish. “I’m fine,” she answers, her tone making more than clear what she hasn’t said directly: she has already come. How did she manage it? It’s not like she was getting any stimulation, unless… Oh, he understands now.
A smirk creeps on his lips, despite his attempt at keeping a neutral expression as he scoots closer to her. She must be aware of the fact that he's perfectly understood what has happened to her, because she’s trying very hard not to look at him, at least until she feels his breath so close to her neck, at which point she can’t resist anymore, turning her gaze towards him.
“Seems like someone’s peered inside my mind too much,” he points out, tone slightly accusatory, but Leanne knows he’s just using this as an excuse to tease her.
“I wanted to know how it felt for you,” is what she says to justify her decision.
He nods, only partially satisfied, however. He knows he could as well leave the subject alone – there’s little to be gained by prying even more – but he can’t help it: now that he knows there’s something more going on, he must know what it is. “I don’t recall you ever doing that before. What’s changed?”
Leanne looks at him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We’ve never done it like this before.” That’s true, Naesala doesn’t have anything to say about that, but then she unexpectedly continues. “I wanted to see if it felt for you the same way it always feels for me.”
That’s interesting. “And does it match?” he can’t help but ask.
She thinks about it for a moment. “It’s similar, but not entirely the same,” she concludes. “I suppose our different bodies make us feel things differently. But it was fun to feel it the way you do!”
“As long as it worked out for you…”
They both remain quiet for a while, simply basking in each other’s presence. Naesala’s starting to feel the desperate urge to clean himself up, the wetness between his legs becoming more and more uncomfortable as time goes on, but for now it’s nothing he can’t handle. He’s been so thoroughly pampered that he feels lazy, and why shouldn’t he indulge anyway? It’s not like he has any duty to attend to any time soon.
At first, Leanne seems to be in his same state, but then small movements begin interrupting the peace. The twitch of a foot, quick glances stolen towards him, lips opening slightly only to immediately close shut. Nothing too major, but Naesala knows her well enough to understand that there’s something she wants to ask him, but still hasn’t found the courage to. “What is it?” he says, making things easier for her.
She hesitates just for a moment, before finally asking her question. “We’re doing this again, right?”
What a little minx she is, building up Naesala’s curiosity only for that to be what she was wondering about. Besides, the answer is pretty obvious already, and from the mischievous glint in her eyes, she knows it too.
“Why not?” he answers, leaning closer to her. “I bet you already have many more ideas to try, right?”
Her giggle is the clearest answer he could’ve ever gotten. “Maybe…”
If she had given him the chance, he would’ve asked her to elaborate, curious about what she has in mind, but she quickly distracts him by closing her arms around his neck and bringing him forward to press their lips together.
It’s more fun to keep things as they are, he finds himself thinking. After all, he’s quite enjoyed this surprise, so who’s to say he won’t enjoy what will come next?
EriSama Thu 25 Sep 2025 07:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
Vault_Emblem Mon 29 Sep 2025 12:29PM UTC
Comment Actions