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He was the most beautiful man he ever laid his eyes on. Everyone wanted to get their hands on the eurasian lynx. But Paris refused every offer of sex and courting, no matter how big the offer was. Model women couldn't sway him, nor could men of the gym. Twenty dollars only made him scowl, and gifts of chocolates, poems, and roses were only received with thanks. His excuse? "I have strict parents." Nobody believed him. He lived by himself in a condominium hundreds of kilometers away from his parents.

He was an intelligent man. He spent most of his time studying with three other people, who maintained just as high grades in their course. Everyone considered him handsome. After all, he had no blemish on his face, his side part hair was done expertly, and, if you leaned hard enough, smelled like freshly washed roses. Unlike most boys, when he dressed, he had a goal. On Mondays and Thursdays, he wore frameless glasses, not that he needed them, coupled with a white dress shirt and watch. On Wednesday and Friday, a wild, printed shirt hidden behind an open varsity jacket and a cap hat on.

Many suspected he was just the kind of man who was asexual and uninterested. But if that was the case, then why, after all the people in the world who wanted to have him, did he have the football star, tied and naked on his bed?

Edmund the lion tested the cuffs that bound his arms to the bedpost. He pulled his feet, and they too were bound with ropes tied to the other ends of the bed's legs. He huffed. To be at the mercy of one of the most handsome men in college, both in body and soul, was one among the least expected things he wanted to happen.

"Is this your first time?" Paris asked, a hand over the lion's furry pectorals. The air conditioner hummed in a tune that matched their heartbeats, and it eased the tension, the anxieties they carried between themselves.

"Being tied up? No." Edmund shook his head. "Fifth or sixth time, lost count."

"Oh? By who?" Paris asked, his tail gently caressing his lover's crotch.

"My ex." He chuckled. "He used to have his way with me often. Sometimes one or two dudes would join."

'No wonder,' Paris thought. No wonder he was so relaxed amidst the tight bondage, and the vulnerability that laid between them. No wonder, that in spite of the closed curtains, and the way in which darkness and faint light both painted the room erotically, Edmund gave away no sign that he was excited. "What about being tickled?"

"Can't say for sure I'll like it, but my ex used to-"

"Shh." Paris pressed a finger between the lion's lips. The lynx's eyes glowed a soft green in the darkness. "The more you talk about your ex, the more I'll be jealous, and the earlier this'll have to end."

Paris released the finger, and Edmund spoke once more. "Yes, babe."

"You remember the safeword, yeah?"

"I do."

"Okay." Paris exhaled, gazing back at the dragon's eyes. "Let's do this." He straddled his hips, tail raised excitedly, and hands firmer on his pecs. "You ready?"

"Already was."

Paris closed his eyes. It was ironic. He was the dominant, the one in charge. Edmund had given him the consent to tickle him, yet here he was, scared and frightened to do the act. What was so frightening about the experience? Perhaps it was his empathic nature, and the way he feared that he'd do anything wrong. What if Edmund didn't like being tickled? What if something goes horribly wrong?

"What's with the hold up?" Edmund interrupted his thoughts. "Nervous?"

"Sorry, it's just my first time."

"Ah." He made gestures with his bound hands. "There's a first for everything. If you do anything wrong, I'll just say the safeword."

He was right. If there was anything wrong, Edmund had the shots to stop it. He could do anything he wanted. For the majority of Paris' life, power was one of the few things he lacked in his life. Something that he wanted so much. But now that he had it, for some damned reason, he became so anxious, so excited at the same time, to take it.

Paris took another deep breath. He dragged one claw across Edmund's armpit, and he received a grin edge across his mouth. Hints of clean, white fangs. "Mmmf."

"You like it?" Paris asked.

"Might have to do harder than that for me to know."

It was a challenge. That smirk spread across his face wasn't just from the tickle. It was a dare. Edmund's true submissive personality began to rise like bubbles out of water, and seeing his bondage amidst all of it, gave Paris a feeling of high. A power high. He could tickle him, take him on that challenge, and Edmund would not be able to cover his body. He wouldn't be able to do anything while he laughed and laughed and laughed... Paris only saw tickle torture in porn, but to enact it in real life was an entirely different feeling.

"Really?" He grabbed at his sides and pressed them with his fingers.

"Shhi-hihit!" Edmund pulled at his bondage, the metal chains clinked at the strain.

Paris decided to lean in closer until he could smell his breath, which smelled so faintly of mint. "How about that?"

"That's more like it."

"Mmm." That was all Paris could reply. At this distance, where their bodies were so closely intertwined, he swore he heard Edmund's heartbeat, in a pattern most romantic, speak that he was his, right now and forever. The lynx's fingers danced on the lion's wrists, slowly descending down his underarms. Edmund giggled at the sensation, and he braced himself as the claws slowly traced their down their armpits, where they scratched in a pressure that made him scream.

"Fuck! Grahahaha!" His mouth fully opened to bellow out laughter. Paris saw remnants of light glint so softly on his fangs, and felt Edmund's thrashings as he so desperately tried to close his arms.

Paris twirled his fingers in that circular motion on Edmund's left armpit. He twisted his body as far to the right as he could, but the cuffs held him, and so did the ropes. He couldn't stop it, no matter how hard he tried.

Once he was done, Edmund was left gasping for short breaths. He closed his eyes, a wide grin still left on his face. "Didn't know the Paris was this evil."

"Honey, I'm so many things." Paris kissed his lips, their tongues exploring each other's mouths, when they departed, there was a trail of saliva where the colliding mouths were supposed to be. "Sandara and James would tell you how much of a horny bastard I am."

"I never get to hear those kinds of things from them."

"Because you're never with them, silly."

"All they tell me is- nnooohohoho!"

Paris attacked his ribs without hesitation, a rapacious glimmer on his eyes. All the while, he put his mouth on Edmund's pectoral, his tongue dancing so delicately over the delicate flesh. Edmund moaned and laughed both, as if he was confused about which to do. He bucked his hips, but Paris held still, poking at every inch of the muscle. Tears glistened in the lion lee's eyes, and his penis became erect amidst the tickling.

Paris stopped to see the discomfort behind his back, only to see Edmund's dick standing proud, circumcised and stood tall and girthy. "Looks like someone's having fun."

"Hey." Edmund squirmed. "If you were tickled by a really hot guy, you'd get turned on too!"

"It's such a surprise seeing you be this submissive." Paris chuckled and tickled his neck.

"Tch," Edmund turned his head to the side to protect his neck, "hehe, nobody expects that from the football capTAIN! BWAHAHAHA!"

The lynx was at it again, this time playing his fingers all over his belly and rubbing his hands across his chest. He saw Edmund pull at his cuffs and tried to pull away, finding a way out of the bondage. But it was futile. A single tear rolled down his cheek, but no safewords were uttered just yet. When Paris turned, a leak of precum trickled down from the tip. He needed to slow down. It would be too bad if this ended too early.

"You're liking it so far?"

"This is the worst torture in my life." His cheeky grin.

"But you're liking it, aren't you?"

Edmund's chest deflated in exhalation. His tail swished, and their eyes met lazily together. His head lolled to the other side, fists unclenching and body untensing. "A lot."

"You want me to slow down or worsen it up?" Paris held his hips. The light that spilled from the windows hued to a warm orange. Their gazes locked, and Paris felt his face soften, as if the world and its entirety decided to change itself, so they could be together, if only for one night. He buried his face on the lion's mane, so rough and masculine, with hints of sweat and perfume, hard and beautiful and never lying.

"Slow down a bit."

"I've always wanted you, you know?" He held Edmund's chin, and the hand slowly descended down his neck, until it reached his armpits, and made gentle circles with his index finger.

The lion took one big inhale, resisting the urge to laugh. "I know."

"I always gave you hints." Their lips were so close, the space between them so intoxicating, drunk to the point the rest of the world felt like it melted before him, and Edmund was the only one to stay. "My friends would always squeal when you came close to me."

"You always say that like it's my fault. Shit, ahahaha!" He grinned, body rocking to take off Paris's hand, which lightly tickled his ribs.

"But you always teased me. You always take off your shirt when you're done playing sports. After your gym session, you come to me sweaty and try to talk to me."

"Okay, that second part was unintentional. I thought you hated sweat, but I didn't want to miss my chances."

Paris rolled his eyes. "And you'll pay for all those times." He tickled his thighs, hands dashing back and forth across the fur. Edmund screamed and thrashed as hard as he could. His meat hardened, semen dribbling down the glands.

"Gahahaha! I thought you said you'd slow down!"

Paris smiled and dropped his hands. "Sorry, just can't help myself." He climbed down the bed and moved to its other end, where Edmund's feet laid bound. His toes clenched, closing the hollows between.

"You better not start scratching them."

"Things you should never say to your dom." Paris held the heel, with the other hand holding the paw itself. "But those aren't my plans, don't worry." He stuck his tongue out, and tongue clashed with skin. His foot was clean, yet still with trails of leather, musk, and dirt.

"Mmph, it tickles, but feels so good though." He moaned.

His mouth enveloped the toe next, saliva coating the pad, down the skin until it was full and tasted. The other toes demanded his attention, and he did the rest too. When both paws were fully licked, he proceeded to scratch them both, and Edmund was back to his laughing and thrashing.

"Ngggh- fuhuhuhuck!"

He tickled between the hollows of the toes, and tapped, and tapped, and tapped the pads like buttons. When he was done, he climbed back up the bed, and Edmund was sweaty, gasping, the air no longer smelling like mint, but the desiccation of his sweat, and the cold the AC gave. Amidst it all, he was hard, if not harder than he already was. Paris decided he had had enough, and held the penis with his one hand, and stroked the member, up and down. Moans escaped Edmund's maw. He humped the air with that over-pleasured face in spite of his bounds. His shoulders tensed, and he yelled, "I'm about to cum!"

He tickled the tip of it, and he came. The sputters of his orgasm reached his stomach. Paris looked at his hand, which was full of his warmth, and licked it, bitter and salty in its taste.

Outside, twilight fell from dusk. The orange sunlight was gone, and the city, in all its buildings and glory, came to replace it. It could not replace the sun however it tried, so Paris stood up from the bed and flicked the lamp on the bedside table on. The darkness was dispelled, but the lust, the romance, stayed. He looked at Edmund once again, heart still unsatisfied, and hands still willing to tickle.

"So are you going to let me go?" Edmund pleaded with puppy wide eyes.

But he was no puppy, and he had not said the safe word quite yet.

"Nah, I'm up for round two."