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There are about a hundred better uses you could have put your afternoon to. Unfortunately, things never seem to go according to plan in Night Raven College, and so too did your blissful afternoon of lazing about pop like a bubble blown by an overeager child. You can deal with the occasional chore, but this time in particular, you’re simmering with frustration as you bend down and clean scattered belongings off the floor of a bedroom that doesn’t even belong to you. The unnerving presence you can sense right behind you doesn’t help any.
“Hurry it along, herbivore. I don’t have all day, and I wanna take a nap.” The command he issues is both imperious and nonchalant, all the more filling you with unvoiced exasperation. As if it wasn’t bad enough you have to pick up and sort his dirty laundry like some sort of unpaid housemaid, Mr. Kingscholar simply has to make the task twice as painful by opting to supervise your every move and nag at you in that dragging tone of his.
“Maybe if you got off your ass and gave me a hand, you’d get your room back sooner”, you fire right back at him, your eyes throwing daggers at the prince still idly following behind you and surveying your cleaning routine. The dirty shirt you’re holding finds itself flung angrily at the laundry basket Grim is holding, your furry companion’s ears flattening as he senses the storm brewing in the mood of the room.
“Hah?” That mocking chuckle already does not bode well, but the dorm leader keeps going, always eager to drive the point home that you’re so inferior to him. God, what you wouldn’t give to shut him up once and for all... “I don’t think you’re senile yet, but just in case I need to remind you… You’re the one who agreed to do this. I’m only helping you out of the kindness of my heart, so toil harder, slave.”
His arms crossed, Leona flashes you the dirtiest grin you’ve seen on that smug face of his, and you have to grind your teeth to resist the temptation to toss the contents of the laundry basket to his face. Instead, you opt to arm yourself with a mop, just in case His Highness gets bellicose, and dip it in the bucket that... should have been filled with a mixture of water and cleaning solution. Huh.
“Are you kidding me, Grim? I asked you to fill this half an hour ago!” Grim winces at your outburst, not wishing his little escapade in the Savanaclaw dorm leader’s wardrobe to be found out now. Too late for him, as Ruggie’s caught on and is now examining the empty bucket just in case Grim stashed his ill-acquired new possessions in there. “Never mind. Can’t ask either of you guys anything. I’ll do it myself,” you sigh, practically yanking the bucket out of Ruggie’s hands. The smaller boy chuckles that strange little chuckle of his at your visible irritation, as you storm out of the king-sized bedroom.
You were expecting everyone to ignore your outburst, as they usually do, so the sudden new development startles you. Even though he huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue in annoyance, the prince gets off his royal behind and soon enough, his hurried footsteps join yours along your mad dash down the corridor. You brush past surprised animal-eared students, who have to dodge out of your way before you knock them down, and you can hear more than a few snickers at the sight of “the royal couple” in the midst of one of their daily and very public arguments. You really wish that dumb rumor could die off already.
“Where in all hell are you storming off like that? You don’t even know where to look, herbivore. You’re really useless without me.” Leona sighs in open consternation, rubbing his neck in what you, despite yourself, identify to be a tick of his that only peeks through when he’s rather aggravated. “Oh, whatever. I don’t care about any of this. I’m goi—”
“You’re not going anywhere, Leona. Just show me that closet quickly, so I can get off your lair faster and we can both be rid of each other.” He snorts, but seemingly agrees with your straightforward plan, as he opens the way without pushing your buttons one time too many. Your best guess is that he’s as eager to go back to his peaceful routine as you are to return to the comfort and quiet of your own bedroom in the Ramshackle dorm.
… Yeah, all things considered, maybe you are a bit on edge, you reason with yourself, your steps reflexively slowing as you fall behind the dorm leader’s tall, tanned figure. His long tail is swishing idly in what you suppose to be a sign of latent impatience, and you can barely restrain yourself from chuckling at the sight. With such a huge, pettable mood indicator flicking right behind him, it’s a wonder the prince isn’t incredibly easy to read. You earn yourself a little glare for your small grin, but that’s still better than the alternative. Seems Leona shares your constant agitation, anyway; no wonder, really, when the cause of it is each other.
Quite frankly, being stuck in your upperclassman’s bedroom for three days didn’t exactly sound like a dreamy deal, but it was a last alternative, undertaken out of absolute desperation. You hoped being aware of the inevitability of it all would suffice to make the deal a bit more livable. Needless to say, it did not. Having to share Leona’s close quarters just comforted everyone in a piece of knowledge that was all but common, by that point: you and Leona did not get along. At all.
Trey attributed this to two clashing personalities, Cater suggested that your fierceness meshed badly with Leona’s stubbornness and caused you to often butt heads, and Ace (forbid the thought) even snarkily suggested a bout of growing sexual tension. God bless Deuce, who remained mostly oblivious to the ongoing conflict between you and the irascible prince. If only Leona himself could be so dull-witted more often… Your absolute victory over him would be prompt and radiant.
“Stop daydreaming, herbivore. That smile of yours is creeping me out. Here’s your closet, do you need me holding your hand through it or can I fuck off?” You glower at the prince, but nonetheless nod briskly to, if not thank him, at least acknowledge the favor he paid you.
“I’ll be fine. I can do this on my own.” Intent to show the prince you don’t need his backseat cleaning, you resolutely open the closet door and— whoa, talk about a mess. You take a hesitant step inside the cluttered closet. Damn it, you can’t see anything at all in there; it may take you hours to find a bottle of detergent. That eventuality is, of course, out of the question. The faster you’re done playing maids for the capricious prince, the sooner you can be rolling around idly in your bed back home. You lean in and try to sift through an unstable heap of garbage, tugging and pulling to get the one item you’re looking for out of the assorted junk, when an ominous tumbling noise echoes dangerously close to you.
Uh oh.
“The hell are you doing?” Leona’s ‘warning’ comes too late— or maybe his reflexes came too fast, as he’s already on the move even as he speaks. You barely have enough time to blink, not having processed the situation yet, when you get brutally shoved out of the way. The cluttered pile of odds-and-ends you were tampering with crashes to the ground in a loud commotion, and the resulting force causes the door to the small closet to slam closed. Well, you guess that really can’t fall any lower, at least.
You attempt to get back on your feet, but there’s not much room to maneuver and your left leg hurts a fair bit. Besides, Leona’s awkwardly half-hunched over you in his best attempt to not come join you on the cluttered floor. There’s something digging in your hip, and you might have earned a bruise there for your trouble, but things could have gone worse. You briskly look back up to Leona, checking if he hurt himself in all that commotion.
“You good? Heh, to think you’d go crashing to the floor when I just touched you a little.” Never mind that. You rule that he just lost any concern privileges and stand back up clumsily, rubbing your bruised side. Leona attempts to step away and give you some space, his back immediately hitting the other wall of the closet in the process. That thing really is smaller than it looks from outside, all things considered. Or, well, it wouldn’t be if someone decided to go through all this junk once and for all. How hard can it be to just throw away all that unneeded mess?
“Can’t say I’m fine, but nothing that can’t be fixed once I’m finally home. Now hurry up and get out. I don’t exactly want to stay here with you all afternoon”, you quip. Leona snorts at your pushiness yet nonetheless obliges, perhaps feeling guilty for your floor misadventures. ...Or perhaps that’s just wishful thinking on your part. You surmise the dorm leader does not know the meaning of the word remorse, eyeing him warily as he turns his back to you, pulling the closet door open.
Except it stays, of course, obstinately closed. The lion-eared prince curses under his breath, struggling with the broken doorknob furiously, to no avail. He even throws his weight against the rigid wooden panel to get it open, but it maliciously refuses to budge, as if vengefully standing in the way of your dreamy afternoon of relaxation spent doing absolutely nothing of value back in the Ramshackle dorm.
“Uh, Leona, has the doorknob always been broken, or did you just...?” You can’t see a damn thing inside here, considering the only light is that which filters under the door, but you guess there’s always the possibility that Leona just broke it while handling the door like a madman. The dorm leader’s increasingly brutal attempts to reason with the door do not yield any more results, aside from Leona’s tail swishing in your face and a string of curses.
“Do I look like I come in here often? How the hell would I know?” Leona’s now banging on the door, calling out in hopes of getting someone’s attention on the other side. Really, it’s too bad the closet's in a pretty deserted wing of the dorm.
“I dunno, maybe… you know… the dorm leader would know about things like this? Considering it’s kind of their job?” You didn’t even mean to attack him; you’ve just been on edge for the whole day, and the sight of Leona fighting with the door like an upset toddler trying to sneak out of his playpen is filling you with a strange sort of delight. If anything, you know better than to get him mad when you’re literally stuck inside a narrow closet together—
Wait just a second.
“We’re stuck,” you blurt out, the realization suddenly hitting you with full force and clarity. Leona attempts to turn back to you, but there’s really not enough space for that and he ends up almost pressed against you, with no exit and nowhere to look away. You try to take a step back, but it’s your turn to hit the clutter behind you, something pointy inside it sticking into your back and earning a pained yelp out of you. Leona looks down, faintly surprised the small noise came out of you, and you’re just glad the light here is too dim for him to notice your cheeks flushing darkly in shame. Unless, of course, he can see in the dark. Then you’re simply done for.
“Don’t move, herbivore” he barks out commandingly. “I don’t want that mess to fall over and crush me. Whatever you do, don’t move an inch.” Easier said than done, especially when he’s not the one pressed right against a towering lion-eared jerk with no way out whatsoever.
“Then you don’t move! You’re the one crushing me”, you complain; or at least that’s what you tried to do, but your voice comes out much smaller than you intend it to. It’s hard to pay attention to volume when you’re frantically attempting to divert your mind away from a rather… unpalatable area. As badly as you want to focus on another train of thought, being smushed so close to Leona means you notice… things about his body that you never did before, and likely would never have noticed were it not for this damn closet entrapping you. Like, say, his smell.
Of course, in ordinary circumstances, you’d likely want to mentally beat yourself up for even taking notice of something like the dorm leader’s bodily smell. Now that your head’s in his torso and he’s quite literally pinning you in place, however, you don’t really have a choice, do you? And what a smell it is; warm, leathery and earthy, with a hint of musk and spices and— oh god, you can feel your cheeks burning up again. As horrified as you are by your own, increasingly flustered thoughts, there’s something primal and raw about the situation that’s setting your nerves ablaze, and heat is pooling between your thighs before you can even realize it.
“Even if I wanted to, I can’t move, herbivore, not with how much space you’re taking.” You pay no heed to Leona’s nonchalant retort or his attempt to spark an argument, and instead awkwardly try to squirm out of his involuntary embrace. Having your head nestled in his torso, right where you can feel his diffuse body heat and smell the sand and sunlight on his bronze skin, is definitely bad for you. Hell, you’re starting to visualize fantasies you’d really rather not have to imagine—
“Hey, herbivore. Stop wriggling around so much.” Small gusts of wind reach you faintly at regular intervals — you notice belatedly Leona’s tail is swishing again, more slowly this time, and when you finally gather your courage and look up at the dorm leader, you almost have to do a double take. Him pointedly looking away from you is nothing unusual, but is he seriously flushed? Well, you attempt to reason with yourself, you can barely see anything at all in there so there’s always a chance this is just a trick of your overactive imagination—
“I said. Stop moving. Stop grinding against me.” A growl starts to make itself heard in the usually sluggish dorm leader’s voice.
“I’m not— Why would I want to grind— I don’t have any room! You’re squishing me!” Your distressed complaints are quickly joined by another round of squirming, as you’re now desperate to get away from Leona’s smell. You’re going to end up fanning his ire more, no doubt, but it’s worth it if you manage to finally—
In your commotion, the back of your hand brushes against a tent on the front of Leona’s pants, and both of you instantly jerk to a stop, as if the surrounding air had all but frozen around you.
“... Leona, are you—”
“Shut the hell up.” This time, there’s more growl than voice to the words, and the dorm leader is insistently trying to face away. So he was dealing with the same predicament as you all along, huh? That realization, delightful in its unexpectedness, suddenly makes you want to tease him. You finally have a winning hand, after all; and if he were in your shoes, he wouldn’t show you any mercy. It’s only the natural thing to do, after all.
“Are you hard—”
“Shut it.” This time, he hisses out the words, leaning down into you. What little you can make out of his face is dead serious, so naturally intimidating that your voice reflexively dies down in your throat. You’re no stranger to the fact that Leona can be terrifying when he wants to be, and your knees are buckling a little already. … Out of fear, of course. There’s no way it could be anything else.
But then Leona speaks again, and it turns out it was, after all, ‘something else’.
“Take responsibility, herbivore. It’s your own damn fault. Stop being in heat around me.”
For a second, you feel like all the blood in your body got replaced by coolant, and the very next, your every cell bursts into flame.
“I’m sorry? Did you just—” You sputter off in indignation, but before you can give him a piece of your mind, the sight of Leona’s nostrils flaring in the dim light makes your lips quiver.
You can hear it now. He’s taking in deep breaths through his nose, eyelids reflexively fluttering close as he sniffs out, and his tail resumes its lashing at a languid pace. As if he’d caught himself in the act, the lion-eared prince jolts back to his normal state, cheeks darkening.
“Yeah, I just did. You’re in heat. Stop it. It’s making me…” The dorm leader’s collar is already as unbuttoned as can be, and yet he fiddles with it, vainly trying to cool down his overloaded nervous system. You can make out a faint layer of sweat on his tanned collarbones, and the natural smell of his skin assaults you in another wave of musk and spice and oh god — heat pools in between your legs again. Leona takes another whiff immediately, his tail flicking. “I said ‘stop it’, not ‘more’. Quit it.”
… By ‘in heat’, did he mean… Has he been smelling your arousal through your clothes all this time? Your cheeks flush darkly at that inescapable realization. Has he been behaving so weirdly since the beginning because he can smell how horny you are? How did he even recognize...
“Damn it”, Leona growls under his breath, almost instinctively leaning closer to you, his nose brushing against your neck in an attempt to locate more of your scent. The ephemeral sensation of his cool nose grazing your skin sends violent shivers down your spine. “Why do you always have to make everything so hard?”
As if on cue, Leona presses his clothed arousal against you in a vain attempt to find relief, sniffing his way down the nape of your neck, to your hair and shoulders. His lips mouth along your skin, hot breath tickling sensitive spots you didn’t even know you had. It’s electrifying — he doesn’t even need to be making full contact with your skin for you to shake and quiver in his awkward, forced embrace. How touch-starved have you really been all along, for you to lose to him so easily?
“What the hell are you doing?” Once again, your voice betrays you — what you meant as an imperious command to stop simply comes out as a repressed plea for more. Leona ponders for a moment, his sharp teeth coming to a rest on your collarbone, gently digging into your flesh yet not fully diving into it. His deep, dark green gaze is clouded when it meets yours again.
“You can try to fool yourself all you want, herbivore, but you can’t lie to me. I can smell it. Don’t pretend you don’t want this.” And yet, betraying his very words, the prince’s gloved fingers come to a rest on your shirt’s collar, as if quietly asking for permission to disrobe you. That’s what you’ve been waiting for all along; a chance to turn things around, finally! All you have to do is fire back one of your usual sarcastic quips, or call him a creep, maybe even laugh in his face, and it’ll all be over…
You never do any of this, and deep down, you’ve known it all along. Instead, you look down at the prince’s face, deep into his eyes, half-lidded and faintly glazed over. Your gaze gently caresses his face, all the way to his flushed, heated cheeks, then his parted, panting lips, glowing lusciously and tempting you to just lean in and come taste them for yourself… In the midst of your dazed contemplation, you find enough clarity to faintly wonder what kind of face you’re making, and a sudden pang of irritation runs through you at the thought he’s probably drinking in the sight of you in the very same way you are. Selfishly, childishly, so as to keep the upper hand in that imagined little duel of yours, you grip Leona’s chin and force him closer to you, revelling in the sudden feeling of superiority as he turns to putty in your hands. Before he can snap out of it, you lunge in, suddenly closing the distance with a kiss.
He never resists. No, he revels in the kiss, drinking in your breath like a starved man and pressing his whole body closer to you, the cool leather of his gloves freely roaming all over your skin while your lips clash for dominance. You shiver when his hot tongue suddenly drags against yours — a sneak attack like that is completely against the rules. So you fight right back, your clever fingers finding the tent in his pants and caressing it insistently, coaxing a hot sigh out of his lips and straight onto yours.
Your shirt flies open before you can revel in your little victory, your bra now on full display for the prince to admire. Preemptively cutting short any complaint, Leona smoothly props you up against the wall, hooking your legs around his waist and taking advantage of your new position to freely grind his clothed erection against your core. That’s foul play! Noticing your dismayed glare, the prince chuckles in the middle of an open-mouthed kiss, giving you one last peck before his face disappears inbetween your breasts.
And oh, does he bite. Leona’s teeth, much sharper than a human’s, leave a trail of bruises in their wake, your nerves blossoming in sharp rushes of pain with every merciless bite he takes at your exposed skin. The handsome prince smugly smirks against your flesh with every moan or pant he manages to drag out of your reluctant lips, sneaking in a hickey or a kiss as tacit rewards every time he’s particularly pleased by your vocalizations. You hate how confident and powerful he seems in his ability to please you, and yet it’s so hard to contain yourself and hold back, as his lips work their magic down your neck and all over your sensitive chest.
Soon enough, your bra is impatiently unhooked (although the slight, if undeniable noise of ripped fabric suggests your feline lover simply had enough of it) and is sent flying somewhere in the cluttered mess around you. With your breasts now on bare display, Leona stops an instant to admire his handiwork, cheeks rosy and gloved hands pawing at the offered flesh to test the waters. Deeming your reaction suitable, he then gets that talented mouth of his back to work, an unmistakable smile tugging at his lips.
Not a single part of you escapes his scrutiny; while his tongue runs hot against one nipple, his teeth leave his mark all over your chest, and his free hand gropes and plays freely with your other breast. He plays rough, too, sucking harder on your offered nipple in an attempt to get more sighs and moans from you, pinching your flesh with a little chuckle before littering the bruised area with hot kisses as an apology.
Not that you mind the sudden jolts of pain. Whenever he’s not lavishing your neck and chest with greedy licks and kisses, Leona’s teeth push into your flesh as he delights in your shudders and jolts. Sharp canines drag against your skin, diving straight into it to mark you as his possession whenever you least expect it, sometimes drawing blood he’s promptly licking clean, surfacing back up to quickly give your lips a peck that tastes of copper. Does he feel guilty for littering your neck in bruises? Somehow you doubt that, yet you still slide your fingers through the luxurious mane of his hair, caressing it and gently coaxing him back to your chest.
When Leona bites your nipple gently, an eyebrow arched in mischievous intent, you reflexively jolt, accidentally tugging at the prince’s hair in your bewilderment. What a surprise, then, when Leona’s breath hitches, his hips reflexively stuttering right against your underwear. Perhaps your untamed prince has a bit of a masochistic streak to him; the thought is titillating, and you resolve to further experiment on the matter. Prudently, hesitantly, so as not to get eaten alive, you pull sharply again when the timing is right, and this time Leona lets out a low, breathy moan, looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. Your efforts do not go unnoticed by the cunning prince, who opts to leave a vengeful, matching love bite around your other nipple. You smugly conclude this experiment was a resounding success.
Leona only peeks back up from your now sore and tender breasts when he’s satisfied with himself, rocking his hips against yours one more time for good measure. The sight of his faintly glistening lips makes you drag him by the collar for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. His forehead comes to a rest against yours, his nose rubbing yours affectionately, and for a second, you’re utterly lost in your contemplation of each other.
“Don’t move,” Leona whispers against your lips, “and don’t be scared. I won’t drop you.” You’re about to retort when the dorm leader agilely dips in between your thighs, your legs propped up on his shoulders. You struggle for balance, earning yourself an annoyed glare from the lion-eared prince. “Keep squirming like that, and I’ll drop you out of spite.”
You’re already thinking of a riposte to shut that smart mouth of his, but you never get that chance. Perhaps sensing your train of thought, your prince opts to beat you to it and put his own mouth to better use, his lips pressing a chaste kiss on the fabric of your underwear as he holds your skirt back up.
“You don’t have to”, you start, feeling your cheeks darken at the sight of his face so close to your most intimate place. The prince only chuckles, maintaining eye contact as he drags his tongue along your panties.
“Too bad. I want to.” Leona’s attention is now laser-focused on your body, taking in the sight while his tongue darts out of his lips, wettening them reflexively. He first opts to play with the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, running his teeth and tongue along it while his gloved fingers play along your underwear. His superior smirk reminds you of a cat toying with his prey, and you can’t help but chuckle.
“Fine. I’m not so heartless I’d deny you… At least, not when you’re so desperate.” Your sarcastic retort goes ignored as Leona’s face dives inbetween your thighs, and soon you can’t think of quips to make anymore. Every half-concealed moan or surge of wetness he manages to coax out of you prompts a little chuckle from the red-cheeked prince. The jerk takes an almost sadistic delight in playing your body like a fiddle, with nothing else you can do in retribution than squeeze your thighs around his face as a warning he’s overstepped the boundaries. Not that such a predicament bothers him in the slightest either, as it gives him ample opportunity to lick along the wet fabric of your underwear, sampling your taste.
Even Leona tires of a drawn-out hunt, however, and your skirt and underwear are promptly tossed aside. You have no time to feel self-conscious, really — he moves along too fast, and counters every single one of your reactions with a bold new move. Before you can waddle in your own embarrassment at being completely exposed, he’s already done admiring you and has put his mouth to work, his tongue languidly lapping at your most sensitive spots as his nonchalant, half-lidded eyes dart back up to meet yours.
Damn… If only you could take a picture of him, right then and there — of the almighty Savanaclaw dorm leader, on his knees in a closet, hard and leaking in his pants while giving you head and thoroughly enjoying every single second of it. Your hand tentatively darts to your blazer, left haphazardly on a pile of junk nearby, but Leona promptly captures both your hands with his own, his fingers intertwining with yours even as he’s busy lavishing your pleasure spot with oral attention.
“Eyes on me”, he orders, finally keeping his mouth off you for long enough to speak. His lips and chin are covered in your wetness, and the sight is not half-bad; now he’s marked with your scent, and he’s utterly yours. Aroused by the sudden thought, you push his head back between your thighs, right where he belongs, even tugging at his dark hair in the way you now know he loves to show him who’s boss. Not that he complains — Leona moans appreciatively, his tongue flickering adroitly whenever it’s not lapping up your essence.
“You look so good,” you whisper, the thought leaving your lips freely before you’ve had a chance to mull it over. “On your knees for me. Good boy.” The prince hums against you, in something that could be either agreement or protest — you don’t get to ponder much, not when his lips zero in on your clit as revenge.
You only realize you’ve been tightly holding his hands when he gently takes them away. A faint rustle of fabric, the sound of a belt clicking open, and a hot, drawn-out sigh right against your core — you can barely hear it, but the sudden shaking of Leona’s body and the unmistakable wet sounds suggest a pretty clear picture, as he pleasures himself while attending to you. His eyelids flutter close under the well-deserved pleasure he denied himself for so long to put yours first, his usually confident face now a decadent mess as he struggles and eventually loses to his own bliss. You find yourself inching too close to orgasm, and somehow, the thought is irritating.
“... Leona, I’m close”, you manage to articulate, your breath hitching whenever the handsome prince focuses a bit too hard on your clit.
“No need to hold back. Go right ahead.” The prince closes his eyes softly, offering up his face and waiting for your orgasm. His tongue redoubles its efforts, and one of his gloved fingers gently caresses your entrance, softly making its way inside you to gently coax you to your peak.
“No, I don’t… I wanna cum with you.” The sudden self-consciousness hits you like a ton of bricks. You never actually meant to say that, much less in that way, but Leona doesn’t comment on it or drag you down like you assumed he would. He simply chuckles, kissing your labia softly before straightening himself back up.
“If you insist. I don’t make it a habit to say no to a lady.” The prince cradles you close to his chest, briefly petting your hair and propping you up once more as he leans in for one more kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and your arms reflexively drape around his shoulders, caressing his long, untamed hair. Your fingers playing along his dangerously soft ears even coax a suspiciously purr-like moan from the rugged prince.
You’re still absorbed in the feeling of Leona’s tongue playing against yours when he softly takes hold of one of your hands, guiding it down his lean body — past his smooth chest, hard nipples visible over his shirt; over his toned stomach, accompanied by a little chuckle as your eyes widen slightly, and finally, to the leaking hardness standing proudly between his legs.
You don’t need further incentive to wrap your fingers around it, smearing his own juices all over him as you slowly stroke along his length. Seeing it is one thing, but feeling it twitch against the palm of your hand makes your breath hitch with hesitation. Is that really going to fit inside you? Before you can voice out your thoughts, a quiet, deep moan above you catches your attention. Leona’s eyes are closed, his hips gently going along with your motions as he loses himself to the pleasure. The sight emboldens you, and your thumb plays along the ridge on his underside, earning yourself a shiver and a delicious groan as a reward.
Now putty in your hand, Leona huddles close to you and kisses your temple, his cheek coming to a rest against it. As your fingers work his length, the lion-eared prince draws in a deep breath, basking in the scent of your hair. The pleasantly cool sensation of his gloved digits against your core makes you brace yourself, and you breathe out deeply as they slide inside, the intrusion not painful, but the feeling still unusual.
“Relax”, Leona breathes out, his free hand petting your hair, falling into a gentle, continuous motion. “Just tell me if it hurts.” You almost reflexively nod, snuggling against his tall, warm body, and catch yourself right in the act — like you’d let Leona win. Taking you by surprise and using your weakness against you… What a sneaky prince indeed.
“What, scared you’re gonna break me?” Your defiant tone makes the prince smirk, and a flick of his fingers inside you sends a jolt down your spine and a gasp tumbling out of your lips. Damn, that… definitely feels better than expected. He looks as surprised as you are by your sudden reaction, which makes you suspect he found out about that sweet spot on accident.
“I might just break you, herbivore. You’re still fine with that?” Curse that smug, arrogant smile of his. You steal his lips with yours once more, sneaking in a bite to his lower lip that makes his breath hitch and his cock twitch in your eager hand.
“Try me, then. Show me what you can do.” Your inviting smile is all Leona needs to softly take his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth to lap your essence off in an obvious display of sultriness. He can get absorbed in theatrics all he wants, but you haven’t lost sight of the real main dish of the day — you take hold of his cock, angling it forward and pushing his tip inside. Leona hisses at the sudden pleasure, his tail lashing behind him, and your free hand reflexively grips the prince’s shoulders tightly.
“Heh, I’m not even all the way in yet… and you can’t take it anymore? You talk... too big, herbivore.” For all his sarcasm, Leona’s panting, desperate to slam his hips into yours but holding strong to leave you time to adjust. Your grip on his shoulders hasn’t relented yet, your nails digging into his flesh sharp enough to draw blood, and Leona groans quietly, his hips stuttering at the sudden jolt of pain.
“... Keep going”, you murmur, your eyes falling shut. Leona gives pause at the command, clearly unsure of whether to oblige or not, so you open your eyes again to smirk at him. “I thought you never refused a lady?”
“Never said you were a lady.” Under all his playful bite, Leona’s face falls into a soft smile, visibly relieved you’re fine. He leans down for a gentler kiss, his lips chasing after yours as he slowly inches his hips forward. You attempt to focus on the feeling of his breath mingling with yours, and nod briskly as he shoots you an inquiring glance. Soon, Leona’s bottomed out, panting, his grip on your hips so tight it’ll leave marks.
“You can move.” Your whisper barely seems to reach Leona, the prince’s breath ragged and his eyelids tightly shut. Chuckling, you kiss him out of his daze. “You look like you’re feeling so good. Already about to blow?” The lion-eared young man shoots an irritated glare your way, only earning himself more snickers.
“Bold talk for someone who was about to cum just from my tongue earlier.” As much as he’d like to give you time to get used to him, your prince is nearing his limit and gladly starts thrusting in and out of you, as slowly as he can muster, leaving you to focus on the movement of his hips and how nice and full he makes you feel. Your hands run along his chest, teasing his nipples as he grunts softly in pace with his gentle back-and-forth.
“What can I say, you’ve got a clever ton—” Leona slams his hips into yours rougher than usual, and your quip is cut off by a surprised moan, one that makes Leona smile again. Oh, you know that cocky smile well - it’s the one he has when he believes he’s winning.
“What’s going on? Lion’s got your tongue?” He’s falling into the rhythm now, smoothly working his hips and trying to coax more noises out of you, but you won’t give him that satisfaction. Desperate for a counter-attack, you shut him up in a kiss punctuated with his moans and pants, your hands once again making their way to his hair. Except this time, you zero in on his ears, gently running your finger along the soft, duvetous fur growing on them.
His reaction is immediate — your prince utterly loses sight of his careful rhythm, suddenly hilting himself into you with a strangled moan, soon accompanied by the nastiest glower you’ve ever seen from him. That’s a win for sure.
“So your ears… are sensitive, huh,” you manage to breathe out, head lolling as you feel yourself inch closer and closer to the edge. Leona’s scent is overpowering now — it’s like it permeates the atmosphere, as he cradles you close to him, his desperation showing through every urgent thrust he takes inside you.
“I’ll cum outside”, he pants, surprising you with a sudden, needy kiss. His thrusting gets shallow, out of control, making you shiver with how deep it hits. He’s as close as you are, his hands tightly gripping yours as he loses himself into your eyes, chasing his own high increasingly selfishly. But you’re already close, so close that your lips already part in warning—
Loud knocks on the door.
“Leona-saaan? Are ya in there? Did you get locked in? Told you this happens more often than you’d think, but you’re never listening, are you?” Ruggie’s unmistakable voice filters through the door, and both you and Leona jolt for a moment, looking at each other with the same dumbfounded look on your faces.
“...Huh, Leona-san? You’re here, aren’t you?” Your mind is rushing, attempting to find an adequate enough lie to justify both your presences here, but this time, Leona takes advantage of your muddled mind and goes straight for the crown.
“About goddamn time, Ruggie. Do you know how long I’ve been hitting that damn door? Hurry up and go get something to smash it open.” He talks so casually, like nothing’s happening, and for a moment you’re impressed… until he resumes his thrusting, giving you a large, shit-eating grin as he does so.
“Leona!” Your warning whisper goes ignored, and Leona’s hips smoothly fall back into his frantic rhythm, his face leaning close to yours as he nears his peak. That’s bad — his shallow thrusts hit too deep and you can’t think straight, your pants threatening to come out as desperate moans any time now, and your nails dig desperately into Leona’s neck, leaving bloody scratches in their wake. Finally taking your silent warning into account, Leona flashes you that superior smirk you hate, spreading your lips apart with his thumb.
“Open wide”, he murmurs, sliding two fingers between your lips when you reluctantly comply. “Bite down if you must. Just don’t make any noise.” You can only angrily glance at the cocky prince, reflexively suckling on his invading digits before you take his suggestion to heart and bite down as hard as you can muster. Leona shivers, drawing a sharp breath through his teeth, and immediately proceeds to pound into you harder, pushing his fingers just a hint farther down your mouth for your trouble.
“Yeah, I’m gonna do just that,” Ruggie nonchalantly answers, hopefully blissfully unaware of what’s happening inside the closet. “Wait, was that the prefect’s voice? Are you both stuck in there?” Never mind that. There’s no way he doesn’t know - not with how Leona’s fucking your wits out, his lips leaving a trail of burning, feverish kisses down your cheek and neck.
“Yesh—” You start out, attempting to speak even with the prince’s fingers obstinately remaining inside your mouth, but then Leona grinds against you and you see stars. Vengefully, your teeth dig into the handsome dorm leader’s sacrificed fingers, as he flashes you a little smirk.
“Yeah, she is. Can you get us out yet? I’m—” Leona groans under his breath. “I’m done with this shit.” That was close; Leona is too, all things considered.
“On it. Just don’t touch the door anymore. … Although you won’t, will you.” With that, Ruggie’s off, and Leona can finally pound at you all he wants, finally slipping his invading fingers out of your mouth. Your relieved gasp suddenly morphs into a cry, one the prince attempts to muffle with his own lips.
“Hurry up”, he pants, grunting as your nails dig into his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. “Before he comes back.” You really don’t need any more incentive, but one of Leona’s thumbs finds your clit, working it as he slams into you, and you’re a goner. Your eyes fall shut and stars bloom through your eyelids; you think you called Leona’s name in your bliss, but you don’t remember. … Or maybe you don’t want to admit it.
You open your eyes too fast, and catch your lion-eared prince in the act — admiring your shivering form, his smile having lost the usual edge it carries with it. To spare him the embarrassment of being caught, you lean close and steal a kiss, your tongue playing with his slowly, languorously, as he works his way to his own orgasm.
“I’m close,” he warns, his forehead resting against yours as he looks deep into you, deep enough you can read out the need, desperation and raw attraction swimming in his irises. “I’m cumming—”
He slides out of you so fast you almost miss the blissful feeling of fullness, his breath quivering as he spends himself into his own gloved hand. You think you understand why he was staring so intently at you, earlier — the sight of his face in the throes of passion is nothing short of mesmerizing. His emerald eyes flutter close, pink glistening lips parting in a moan of pleasure, his ears folding back and his cheeks rosy; and to know it’s all because of you…
Maybe Leona Kingscholar belongs to you, now. The proud, winning little smile on your lips gives Leona pause as he rides off his orgasm, slumping against you in his spent bliss. It’s almost natural, now — whenever his face leans down and his eyes lazily shut, you know he wants a kiss, and so you oblige, delighting in the taste of his lips and tongue one last time. When he parts from you, it’s almost regretfully so.
“... Damn it. I came all over…” Leona’s exasperated sigh interrupts his half-phrased complaint, but with your eyes now attuned to the darkness inside the closet, you can see his own semen all over the dark leather of his glove. You act before you can think, imperiously taking hold of his hand and dragging his fingers to your mouth, your tongue running across the leather to lick it clean just like he did earlier — Leona’s eyes widen at the lewd display, at least until you frown, the decidedly more bitter than expected taste causing you to hurriedly swallow it down.
“Can’t you try to taste better, at least? For me?” Leona huffs at your accusation, tossing your clothes your way.
“Never asked you to lick it off, pervert. You decided to do that all on your own.” You hit him with your rumpled blazer in retaliation, prompting an amused little chuckle from the prince, now busy readjusting his clothing. “By the way, you’ll be delighted to learn you look like someone just fucked you silly.” Somehow, you have no doubt about the veracity of his statement.
“Good thing you’re bringing that up, because everyone probably knows what we just did in here, Leona. Hope that was still worth it.” You barely have enough time to finish putting your clothes back on, and the Savanaclaw students are already at work trying to take the closet door off its hinges. Whatever little bubble of intimacy you shared has now popped, with Leona going back to barking out commands and you complaining at every turn… at least, until Leona’s fingers gently fix a strand of your messy hair, a small smile playing on his lips.
It takes more brute force than cunning and thoughtful planning, but you’re eventually both free from the closet’s curse, stretching out to your heart’s content and breathing in the fresh, sweet air of freedom. Not that there’s much time left to laze about; soon, Leona's shooing everyone away, and you stomp back to His Royal Highness’ bedroom to finish your chores.
With all that excitement, you almost forgot all the cleaning you had left to do… but even as you wring the mop dry and get to work, the little winning smile on your lips just doesn’t come off. Yeah, to think of it, it was all totally worth it, even the arguing, the cleaning, the housemaid treatment, having to wake his Highness up in the morning, sleeping on a futon on the floor of his room...
It was all worth it — because for the very first time, the tides have shifted, and you scored one goal against the almighty Leona Kingscholar.
The cool evening breeze has never felt as pleasant as tonight, and you smugly stretch out fatigued muscles on your walk back home, flanked (as usual) by Ace and Deuce.
“Huh,” Ace ponders, sneaking intrigued glances at your chest every time he feels he can get away with it. “Aren’t you, y’know… smaller than usual, today?”
You freeze, pondering how to punish that insolence of his — until you realize this isn’t a dubious joke and you really aren’t wearing a bra. That’s when it all rushes back to your brain; Leona’s lips all over you, the small, unassuming noise of ripped fabric, and your ruined bra having to stay behind in the clutter of that damn closet. Uh oh.
The unmistakable noise of a punch doesn’t even give you pause, so accustomed you are at Ace and Deuce’s antics.
“I-Idiot!! How dare you speak to a girl that way!” As gallant and knightly as your sworn protector Deuce is, your mind is preoccupied with the grim-looking future of your torn bra. What if someone finds it? More importantly, what if Ruggie finds it? It’s not a matter of “if”, simply “when”, as far as that sneaky hyena is concerned.
… Oh well, you decide, shrugging as the two boys behind you escalate into one of their daily arguments. Sounds like a problem for another day.