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With a gentle tug, your fingers hook around the knot and test its resistance, ignoring the whimper from below as you tighten it to your satisfaction.
Another loop around your waist, the friction of the rope digging into your skin with a stinging embrace. A burn that he shares with you, his skin pressure-white where the cord presses into him, leaving behind intricate imprints you love so very much. When your nimble fingers tuck the rope in around itself, the brush of your hand against his hips brings out an agonized whine.
“Shh,” you assure him, letting your palm ghost along his spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Patience, sweet boy.”
He nods slowly, taking an extra second to process the words you say. He’s usually so smart, so quick witted, so intelligent that it can be infuriating. But when you’ve got Jayce Talis beneath you, stripped bare and vulnerable, he becomes nothing more than a dumb puppy.
You watch the muscles in his shoulders bulge and flex as he attempts to calm himself, his fists wrapped up in the sheets to avoid touching himself. He may be dumb, but he’s oh so well behaved, too. Such a pliant and needy man, always giving himself up to your every whim. It doesn’t matter what it is, just as long as he gets to feel you. There have been many times where this very rope has been tied around him and secured to a chair while you sit before him and play with yourself, a cruel punishment that always leaves him in tears. He hates being left out. Often, it doesn’t even matter if he gets to finish. Just as long as you do, and as long as he can taste it, Jayce will be satisfied.
Another strong yank of the rope catches him off balance, his knees wobbling beneath him as he tries to steady himself out. He has to choke down a moan that is desperate to spill out, the sound lodging itself right beside his frantic heartbeat and sliding all the way down to his throbbing cock. With each pass of the rope tying you two together, Jayce feels his tip leak out precum, dribbling down onto the towel beneath him. His face heats with humiliation, and that humiliation heats his arousal. He’s a forest fire of lust and you are the kindling from which he burns.
Finally, after what feels like hours of torturous preparation, you give the final knot a harsh tug and ask “How’s that feel?”
Jayce tries to move his legs, but as expected, his mobility is completely restricted. Your thighs press against the backs of his, the rope binding you two together in your sin. Jayce exhales shakily, his toned arms trembling to keep himself up, and says “Yeah, it’s— it’s good.”
“Yeah?” You ask him, leaning forward to press your chest against his back. The warmth of his flushed skin brings a shiver down your spine, your sensitive nipples pressed into him, his ribcage expanding beneath you with each breathless pant. When your chin hooks over his shoulder, your nose nuzzling against the side of his cheek, you ask him “Does anything need to be tighter, my dear?”
Jayce’s brows furrow as he does his best to focus on not busting on the spot. Curling around him like this only pushes your length into him deeper, the tip of your strap pressing against his most sensitive spot, your pretty tits soft against his rigid muscles.
“N-No ma’am,” he shakes his head, gulping down his nerves and embarrassing sounds.
Leaving the ropes alone for now, you let your fingertips drag up the sides of Jayce’s torso, humming in contentment when he whines pathetically beneath you. Then, your delicate hands slide around to his front, your fingertips circling over his stiffened nipples just to hear that lovely gasp he always sucks in whenever he’s touched there.
“Such a good boy,” you murmur, your lips mouthing against his stubble. You can feel the sweat beginning to transpire between his back and your chest, but none of that matters. Not when he’s bent over for you like this, a perfect bottom slut whenever you want. “Is that right, Jayce? Are you a good boy?”
He practically sobs. His voice is strained when he says “Y-Yes! Yes. I’m your good boy, yours, yours.”
Oh, how delicious.
If you know every word to get Jayce to unravel, then he knows every response to get you wound up. A dynamic that flows so naturally, so perfectly, that you’re certain there was some divine intervention that led Jayce straight to you. Some of the same stardust runs through your veins, the two of you colliding into a supernova of nothing but absolute and unconditional love.
You press a kiss to his neck, which is met with a small whimper. Then another on his shoulder, one on his jaw, one right behind his ear. He’s starting to get restless, your slow teasing pushing every bit of restraint that he has. And he’s been so pent up lately, stressed over work and the public image he has to uphold, little room to breathe and let himself just be.
He finds that safety within you. Whether you’re holding him on the couch or making him gag on your cock, he finds relief in your control. He doesn’t have to make any of the big decisions, doesn’t have to stand tall and lead a city into the future, doesn’t have to think for himself. He can just be small with you and he knows he will be taken care of. There isn’t a single other person in Runeterra who gets to take him apart like this, no, he truly is your good boy. Yours and yours alone. He loves how dumb you make him— how he can just shut off his brain and give himself over to you. It doesn’t matter if you’re teasing him or not, because you are still making the decisions, and all he has to do is lay there and take it. There’s freedom in that, something he’s often starved of in the limelight.
Your hands squeeze at his ass, kneading it beneath your fingers and relishing in the sounds it coaxes out of him. When you spread him apart, you can see how he’s stretched so perfectly around your cock, slick with lube and begging to be pounded.
“Go.”
As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Jayce is rocking himself back onto your strap, his hips rolling with each stroke. The range of freedom is restricted, the ropes digging into your skin as much as they dig into his. He’s singing a symphony for you, moans so pitiful that you start to get the headrush that often comes with topping Jayce.
A man of his stature, so big, so strong, completely at your mercy as he crumbles into a needy mess. He manages to set a better rhythm, though he can’t bounce on your cock like you know he wants to. That’s part of what makes this so much more enjoyable; Jayce loves the feeling of you plowing in and out of him, loves the thrusts, loves getting pounded into a puddle of his own cum. With the two of you bound to one another like this, he doesn’t get to enjoy the full length of your cock the way he wants to. No, he has to settle for grinding, keeping it in as deep as you can go as he puts in all the effort to fuck himself on your strap.
“That’s right,” you whisper, rubbing a comforting circle in the small of his back, your thumb brushing against the dimples at the bottom of his spine. He stutters out a breathy gasp, his forearms trembling as you say “So pretty when you fuck yourself like a whore. What would the council say if they saw you like this?”
“Nnn—” he can’t even speak, his mind going fuzzy around every word other than pretty and whore. He’s getting further into that headspace, a delicate place for him to land at the end of all of this. He has to readjust his hands on the bed, getting more leverage to hold onto as he picks up his speed, desperately rutting against your cock.
The rope around your own thighs pushes one of the harness’ straps up to your soaked cunt, the faux pleather riding up against your slit. The friction causes your focus to break, a tingle of ecstasy sparking through you like an old lighter.
Jayce’s arms fully give out, the man’s face now pressed into the mattress as his arms lie limply beside him. The pillow he’s buried himself in muffles all his beautiful sounds, and that just won’t do. Grasping at the back of his tousled hair, you yank his head up, just in time to hear an absolutely pathetic cry. The sound goes straight to your core, the harness rubbing against your swollen pussy with each movement Jayce makes.
The pleasure builds up far too quickly, especially when you begin your own thrusts, grinding against the slickened pleather while drilling deeper into Jayce. A shaky breath escapes you, your fingers wrapping tightly beneath the knots by his hips. With this leverage, you can yank him back harder at a pace that you set, Jayce giving in without you having to even ask.
He lets you guide him, control his body, rock him back and forth on your dick buried so deep within him. It’s reached the point of sex where you’re both too immersed to keep up with dirty talk, just hard panting and Jayce’s desperate sounds. This, for you, is the pinnacle of sex. Not the climax, not the powerplay, not the action itself, but the way your ecstasy syncs up with his. When you’re both quiet, focused on the feeling of your bodies fitting together so perfectly, some of that stardust finds its way back home within each other. It all just works so well, and that’s what you find truly erotic. Jayce, no matter what position you bend him in, knows exactly how to blend into you. It’s a mutual euphoria to know that the other is enjoying themselves as much as you are. Makes it all feel so much more real, drives the pleasure further down between your hips until your clit is throbbing with need.
A tremble runs along the slots of your ribs. You are fast approaching your crescendo, your nails digging in harshly to the squish around Jayce’s hips.
“Slow,” you warn him, yanking the spare bit of rope harshly as a way to reign him in.
He sobs, his thighs quivering against yours as his hands slowly slide down the mattress. Inch by inch they sneak lower, disappearing beneath his broad frame.
“Jayce…” you say his name with caution, trying to ward off his urges.
“Please,” he whispers, voice shattered. One of his hands finds yours, his big palm engulfing yours as he attempts to tug you forward, to bring your arm around front and—
The sound of your hand striking his skin bounces off the walls. There, right on his ass, in the one place the rope doesn’t touch, a handprint flourishes beneath the surface with a biting red bloom.
He cries out, sloppy and ruined. His legs attempt to jerk away from yours only for the rope to dig further into his hips, pulling the skin taut and pressing even more pressure onto his weeping cock.
“I told you no,” your voice is low as you reprimand him, but the back of your knuckles still rub soothing circles over the slapped skin.
“I-I knooww,” he whimpers, tilting his head on the mattress just enough for you to witness the lustful haze clouding his face. He’s almost there. Just a little bit more and he’ll be putty in your hands. With his last bit of sense, he manages to mumble out “‘M sorry, ma’am.”
Such a pitiful thing. It’s hard to stay mad at Jayce, for his tail tucks between his legs the moment he’s in trouble. Instead, you tsk at him and let your hand wander up and down his back, listening to him breathe raggedly. His skin is damp beneath your touch, sweat from restraint and overexertion, just like how he looks in that blazing forge of his.
The tension in your body begins to draw back like the sea, but Jayce is a tempest that will bring high tide crashing in the moment you give him permission. Slowly, you rock your hips forward, each push earning a pathetic cry from the man of progress beneath you.
“Close?” You ask him, leaning forward once more to kiss his muscled shoulder.
He nods quickly, trying to lift himself back up to his hands but a hard thrust from you keeps him pinned down. Your hands find his wrists, palms sliding over the backs of his hands and slotting your fingers between his. When you give a reassuring squeeze, Jayce grasps on tightly, needing the delicate affection to keep himself from losing his mind.
Then, just like that, with your tits pressed up against him and your mouth on his neck, you give a few rough grinds into his prostate, rubbing the tip of your cock against his nerves with the grace of someone who knows just how to ruin a man. Jayce shudders completely, his hips jerking against the ropes in a desperate attempt to find some friction, the movements only tugging your hips in even harder.
He breaks completely when you brush your lips against his ear to deliver the final blow; a soft, whispered “I love you.”
The muscles in his body all spasm, his thighs shaking and threatening to give out if it weren’t for the rope tying him to you. His euphoria is palpable beneath you, the ecstasy of orgasm rolling through his body with the violence of a hurricane. He sobs, loud and unabashedly, the strain in his voice combating the moans he’s unable to hold in. With the bliss running high and the euphoria flooding his veins, Jayce becomes completely weightless. He’s past the point of no return, his mind going blank and empty as he drools out onto the pillow beneath him.
“Good puppy,” you praise him, the words bringing another shiver through his spine, pleasure interwoven between each slot in his ribs. He jerks one last time, the final push into complete submission. Gently, you kiss his shoulder, giving him a few more words to hold onto. “That’s my good boy. Taking it so well. You’re such a little whore for me, aren’t you, Jayce?”
All he can do is nod. When he stands before his grand podium and tries to push out every word of a speech with a hoarse throat, he’ll have to remember who made him cry this hard. Who can break him down into nothing but a pathetic puddle, cumming hands free, stretched around your cock like he was made for it.
Your hands wander over his arms, biceps, shoulders, until they’re soothing down his back with gentle care. The tension in his body is gone, nothing but lax muscles beneath your touch.
Before you can even catch a glimpse of your prize, all the cum spurt out onto the towel below, Jayce is bringing a weak hand down to the ropes tying you to him, his fingertips searching for your skin.
“Did you…?” He trails off, unable to form a coherent sentence in this state.
“Mh-mhn,” you shake your head. The pulsing of your clit is still there, still demanding attention, arousal leaking out of you at the sight of Jayce coming undone.
“Let me,” he exhales, a sigh of utter bliss and contentment. He finds one of the knots with his hand, weakly tugging on it in a wordless plea.
Undoing the ropes is always faster than tying him up. With each loosened cord, Jayce helps by pawing at them to help you unravel yourself from him. He braces himself against the headboard as you slowly pull out of him, the sight of his ruined hole always igniting a desire in you that simply cannot go ignored.
As you quickly tug at the buckles of your strap-on, Jayce does his best to fold up the towel beneath him with his shaky hands. He came so much, long ropes of utter devotion to your cock. With your help, the towel is discarded over the side of the bed, Jayce’s attention now turning to you. His puppy eyes beg, desperately wanting to service you just like a good boy would. Sometimes, you wonder if this is more important to him than getting fucked. It’s like its own religion, and Jayce is faithfully devout when it comes to servicing his deity.
After some maneuvering, you lay back against the pillows. Jayce caging you in beneath him. He’s slowly coming back to himself, more and more lucid as he presses kiss after kiss to your cheeks. Eventually his lips find yours, a messy kiss with tongues pressing together and spit swapping between lips. He’s always so vocal, even now, grunting softly to himself as he gets lost in your kiss. Your hands roam up his shoulders, scratching at the nape of his neck. His tongue rolls against yours, the man holding nothing back when it comes to his need to consume you.
With your hand at the crown of his head, you gently push down, Jayce separating from your mouth to descend your body. His mouth is open and hot against your flushed skin, tongue dragging along the salt of your sweat, lower and lower until he’s spreading you wide open. He waits, trained and well behaved, letting you get comfortable first. When your thighs settle over his shoulders, you look down at the way he can’t drag his eyes away from your cunt. He’s practically salivating at the sight of it, his jaw flexing and clenching with restraint the longer you make him wait. After a few strokes of his tousled hair, your hand comes down to your pussy to spread your lips, your fingers parting your folds for Jayce’s hungry eyes.
With a single word, you give him permission. “Go.”
He buries his mouth into you so quickly, so desperately, that your thighs clamp around his head almost instantly. He licks broad stripes all through your folds, losing himself in the taste of you. He worships, gods does he worship. He drools all over you, messy and overwhelmed by the heat of your cunt. He doesn’t hold back, his tongue dipping past your entrance while his nose rubs against your clit. Jayce eats you out without shame, his dignity nothing but a distant memory when it comes to licking pussy.
“Yes,” you moan, tugging against the roots of his hair. He groans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth slurps back up to your clit. His lips always look so pretty when they’re spread open and pressed into your wet cunt, soft and plush and yours to ride.
The tidal waves of euphoria come roaring back in, your chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Jayce eats like he’s been starved, the only thing running through his mind being the taste of you and just how much he can merge himself into you. Mindless and dumb, your puppy laps at your pussy with desperate licks, each muffled moan vibrating straight against your core. It winds and winds inside you like a toy that’s been tightened too many times. At any point you’ll let go, the building pressure giving way beneath his relentless mouth.
Just as you did for him, his hands are sliding up over your hips until he’s rubbing against your stiff nipples, groping and kneading at your breasts like he’s trying to make up for the fact his mouth can’t be in two places at once. This is the last ingredient needed in the cocktail of ecstasy, his big, strong hands knowing exactly how to make you come undone.
With a fist in his hair, your hips start to buck up, fucking yourself against his face while he tries desperately to keep up. His tongue does not falter, even when your legs lock behind his head and you push your cunt further down, wetting his skin from the nose down. In spite of your thrusting, Jayce still manages to catch your clit between his lips, his tongue pressing flat against it while he sucks the bud into complete ruin.
You burst, your thighs squeezing tight and locking him into place, not that Jayce would want to be anywhere else other than buried between your legs, licking up the release that drools out of you. He presses forward, trying to lick into you as far as he can, unable to satiate his thirst when it comes to your orgasm.
Before the high of your climax can begin to fade, you’re tugging against his hair and breathing out a shallow “Another.”
Jayce complies obediently, relieved that he gets to stay face-first in your cunt for a few more moments. His jaw works tirelessly against you, hands groping with fervor over your bouncy tits. Your clit pulses against his tongue, but Jayce doesn’t let up until he can feel you trembling, his fat licks speeding up the higher your moans pitch upwards.
“—My gods,” Jayce groans, words muffled between your thighs. The deep vibrations of his voice send an electric current through you stronger than the magic he tinkers with all day in that lab of his. “You— You taste so- so—”
“Jayce,” you warn him of his manners. When he nods, his stubbled jaw rubs against the insides of your delicate thighs, your body ascending to heavens not yet conquered by another living man.
The bliss doesn’t come crushing in as hard this time, it’s a slow, steady build up from what’s already so sensitive. Needing something to ground yourself, your hands grip at his wrists, still fondling your tits while you fuck his mouth mindlessly. It fills every crevice of your body, compresses your lungs, dissipates what’s left of your brain. Nothing but the white-hot euphoria that sends shivers down your legs, limbs shaking as your toes finally curl in. There’s a brief moment where you lose your sense of reality— not quite here, but not quite anywhere, either. Beyond, floating, liminal. Jayce Talis can show you astral planes with just his tongue alone.
When you come back to yourself, your body feels anew. All aches and stiffness in your joints have been wiped clean, the double orgasm resetting you internally in ways no doctor or modern medicine would ever be able to discover. Still catching your breath, you slowly begin to part your legs, releasing the last ball of tension between your hips as a farewell to the residual pleasure. Jayce is resting his face in the crease of your thigh, gazing up at you so lovingly it’s like you’re the only reason the sun even bothers to rise.
Quietly, without any words exchanged, you reach down and stroke the side of his hair, smoothing down the thick tufts you nearly uprooted in your mind-numbing pleasure. His eyes flutter shut, a content sigh exhaled through his nose. The silence afterwards is always so loud.
A complete and utter understanding of one another at your most basic, primal states. Seeing each other undone, completely surrendering to the pleasure, and driving your bodies into one another like head on collisions. It’s a loaded silence, one that resonates with frequencies only angels can pick up on. A choir of love between your empty mouths, mantras and symphonies spoken in your quietness.
Then, just as always, you tell him “One day, you’re going to be the perfect wife.”
And the affirmation of it all, the implication, the feminization, the promise, makes Jayce absolutely melt into you.