"M-make me," you gasp, even though he's going where you want him to go, because you're full of mischeif now and it's his fault.
"Oh, make you," you say, sarcastically. "Yes, because I really want to keep wrestling you about while sucking you off, let's make Erskin do everything all at once, why not, surely no one's going to get their cock bitten off." You fumble around for a hold on him while he boxes at you while giggling, finally grab him by the wrists. Lean all your weight to get him down against the mattress. Now you've got him more securely pinned— at least, where it comes to getting smacked on the nose, but your mouth isn't anywhere in reach of his cock. This is a problem. When you tentatively let go of one of his wrists, he goes and pinches one of your nipples. Well, it was a problem, because all the dog supplies are shoved in a corner. Leashes are— leashes are damn hard to slip, you know that from experience. "This can go on your wrists or your throat," you tell him, peeling the paper labeling off the leash. "Or you can fucking well behave yourself while handsome and obliging gentlemen are doing you sexual favors."
You just about swallow your tongue. "Hnggl," you explain, eyes round, reeling from a sucker punch of arousal. Him leaning on your wrists was hot and fun, but the idea of him tying you up with the leash makes your cock jump and your mouth go dry.
"Oh," you say. "Hmm." You'd expected a protest, maybe another scuffle, not a wide-eyed hello yes please. You grab his dog collar as well, and when it clips 'round his throat he shivers all over. You think you like this look on him. The lead clips to the collar ring, and you grab his wrists and twist them up in it, catching them at about shoulder level. You can't remember how to tie knots and anyway it seems possibly a bit extreme, actually tying him up. He can get loose from this if he wants to. From the way he's looking up at you, it does not appear that he wants to. And this position makes his arms look really excellent, actually. Artistic. "Are you going to be a good boy, now?" you enquire. You feel a little silly, but at least you sound like someone who's pretty fucking well in charge of things.
"God yes. Hi, Erskin, I have a kink," you say with a little shivery laugh. You test your bonds a bit, finding them tight enough not to come loose at a bit of squirming. He strokes your thigh, and the touch is twice as intense as before, somehow.
You smile at him, relieved. "Good to know I wasn't— hm. Barking up the wrong tree." You snicker at yourself, then flop over on your side and just... observe him, petting his stomach, his legs, enjoying his breathless compliance. You cup his cheek with your free hand and go to stroke his cock, but gently, not so playful or hurried as before. Now that he's like this, bound— trapped— you want to be kind to him.
Your eyes flutter shut and your lips part, your inhalation not quite a gasp, a little shaky, overwhelmed by the clarity of pleasure when you're free from the static of plans and choices. His gentle touch is addictive. It's been so long since you felt cared for.
"Oh, you're lovely," you say admiringly, pull him in to kiss for awhile, slow and indulgent all over again. Magnanimous. Is that the word? He makes perfect little noises into your mouth, his hips working against your hold on his cock. He wants a lot more than he's getting, right now, but isn't asking for it, and that's almost as sweet as last night's enthusiastic begging. Shame you don't have anything slick to use, oil, or, or whatever, lotion, so you could just lie here like this and kiss him and have him fuck himself silly with your fist. You don't want to get up again and go hunt for any little bottles he might have packed. Well, there's next time. You bite his lips a last time— a last few times— and push him back flat against the mattress, lick your way down, get your mouth around his cock. You hum inquiringly— is he doing alright? are you? and pat his hip.
"Ah," you say softly, and "Yes!" and try to touch his hair, having forgotten for a second that your hands are bound. Being brought up short sends a fresh shiver of excitement through you. His hot mouth, his clever tongue, his strong hands, and all you have to do is enjoy it, all you can do, you have this leash around your wrists and collar around your neck to remind you. You sigh his name like a prayer.
Well, that's flattering, and completely shatters your resolve to be kind to him. You take hold of his hips and apply yourself with gleeful enthusiasm, teasing him with soft, slow kisses and licks until he's too breathless to say anything at all. Only then do you swallow him all the way back down and let him really fuck your mouth.
Your eyes roll back, your toes curl, and your happy whimpers turn into shouts as he sends you over the moon. Twitching through the aftershocks, sweaty and noodle-limbed, you give him the dopiest smile you've ever smiled. There isn't a single thought in your head. Erskin is the absolute best thing and you are a happy animal.
You wipe your mouth, grin back up at him, and shuffle back up to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close. You cock's definitely considering the possibility of another round, but Bel's thoroughly out of it and you're sleepy again. Too much shifting. The breeze is cool and the afternoon sunlight is warm and everything feels wonderful. You can see how you feel after a good long doze.
You dazedly kiss his face a few times to express your gratitude. It's some minutes before you're coherent enough to untangle your hands from the leash. Getting the collar off and everything out from between you seems like too much trouble at the moment. You just drape your arms around his waist and let yourself drift.
After some period, you become aware that the cool breeze has started to bite, and the light's gone more amber than gold. Resisting the urge to shiver your way back into fur, you sit up and stretch. Arms involve a lot more stretching out than front legs, it feels like. You scruffle Bel's pretty hair. "I want a walk," you announce.
"Mm?" You smile dozily and untangle yourself from the dog stuff while you process this idea, and conclude, "Yeah. Where'd my hair binder go?" It's not your fault if getting dressed involves groping him a lot. It's a small tent, and he was sitting on your shirt.
You bite his ear, which takes a lot more tries than if you had a proper mouth to do it with, then stumble out of the tent and pull awkwardly at your clothes to settle them. You don't much care for shoes, but the pad-calluses on your back feet don't cover your human heel, so shoes it is. "Have you been here before?" you ask. "Is there a hiking trail?" You wander a little ways into the brush. It's disconcerting seeing everything from this height, and of course your nose is nearly dead. You trip over a rock.
You catch his arm, use it as an excuse to take his hand and lace your fingers together. Grin at your own obviousness. "I haven't, but I got a trail map on the way in. I propose we head that way, I can get a look at the climbing areas and apparently there's a nice view of the lake."
"If you want a second goose you're going to have to get it yourself," you say comfortably. "I'm useless like this." You swing your joined hands between you in an experimental maneuver, which works well, but then you trip over a stick and get it stuck around your ankle. "Bipedal locomotion is terrible," you announce. "Who came up with doing it like this? We should lodge a complaint."
"How is it supposed to be sexy, you don't even have a tail— oh, alright. Why not." After a few awkward starts, you get the idea of how it's supposed to work, and manage to climb aboard. You cling tightly to his neck. "I'm very high up now," you observe, very slightly nervous. "How likely are you to drop me? Just, er. Out of curiosity."
