C61 — Lioness Tamed (Smut)

My first week in London vanished in a flash, yet Gil was still nowhere to be found.

While her sudden disappearances were practically an expected ritual at this point, a sliver of worry still managed to worm its way through my usual indifference.

The British Isles were central to the Age of Fae’s downfall—a consequence, I suspected, of Artoria’s slumber and the return of the Sword of Promised Victory to the Lady of the Lake.

London itself was more than just the Tower’s headquarters.

It is a natural hotspot of Supernatural activities, hence the eventual relocation of the Tower to the tiny landmass, and even as powerful as the Golden Queen is, here existed beings capable of challenging even the Queen of Heroes blow for blow.

Few and far in-between they might be, but one is one too many for my liking.

Thus, out of the selfish desire to alleviate my own worry, I have Caragor out to scout the streets every night looking for her.

Truth be told, I hadn’t held out much hope.

If Gilgamesh wished to remain hidden, nothing short of the Quantum Computer the Wandering Sea’s hidding would be able to find her.

Yet, much to my astonishment, Caragor returned two days after with a mouthful of shimmering gold hair hanging from his jaws and belly rounder than a drum.

“You found her?”

The Demon Cat yowls loudly, burping halfway through the lazy nod before it collapses in a furry heap.

“Mind leading me to her?” I ask, glancing sideways at Caragor.

The Demon responds by flopping onto his back, exposing his furry stomach, and promptly dropping dead, though not before shooting me a baleful side-eye as if I were the bane of his existence.

Irritation twitches at the corner of my mouth as I nudge him with my foot, but the stubborn thing refuses to budge. “Shame… I even brought you a bag of spicy chicken nuggets. Guess I’ll feed them to the neighbor dogs then.”

Quite a few of those there are on the blocks; large, sharp-toothed beasts that can probably chomp off somebody’s arm. Smart, too.

Caragor shoots upright at the threat, rubbing against my leg.

Typical Demon, no shame in the slightest.

Holding the paper bag aloft, I bargain, “You want them? Lead me to her.”

Caragor blinks, his yellow eyes flicking between me and the tempting bag.

Then, he swivels his head and stares pointedly at the clock.

“You want me to wait? Did Gil tell you to?”

With a lazy bob of his head, the Demon settles beside my feet, his golden eyes locking onto mine.

Apparently, Gil has given him strict instructions to deliver me at precisely 12 AM, no earlier.

I could try to force the issue, but if Gil wants it to be a surprise, who am I to spoil it?

Still, the wait is agonizing.

Every tick of the clock sends a jolt through me, my leg bouncing with nervous energy.

It’s a habit many have commented on, but to me, it’s like keeping the engine warm in case of an emergency.

I suspect many will disagree, but being ready can be the difference between life and death.

Boredom gnaws at me as I flip through the books left by the servants, my body slumped against the armchair. My mind is elsewhere, already counting down the seconds until time’s up.  ‘18,541… 18,542…’

Just 239 ticks—roughly four minutes—to go.

“‘Lord of Light’…”

I chuckle at the grandiose title, slip in a bookmark, and toss the book aside. “That’s enough culture for one day.”

A quick shower will take three minutes; I can dry my hair in 30 seconds with [Vibration]. Dressing will take another 30. Efficiency is key. Trailing behind the now overweight Demon took another 10 minutes…

You would not believe how funny it was to see a literal Demon out of breath after hobbling five buildings down the street.

“What the fuck did she give you, growth hormones?” It’s only been days!

Glaring over his shoulder, Caragor jumps over the fence, scrambling to keep himself from falling as his stomach gets caught between the sharp protrusions. I grab Caragor’s nape and lift him to eye-level, shit-eating grin on my face. “Guess who’s going on a diet?”

Eventually, we come upon a large mansion. From outside, it doesn’t look all that impressive, but I know from experiences there’ll be a courtyard inside; a large courtyard complete with a pool and more potted plants than I can be bothered to count. It’s not the nicest place… You can get a whole castle for the same price in another country, but given the lack of land Britain is facing, this is as nice as it’ll get.

It is charming, I’ll admit.

Still, all the charms in the world can’t possibly rival the walking spectacle sunbathing in the open besides the pool.

She’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen—otherworldly yet not artificial so. How someone can look so sharp yet soft; so alluring yet innocent; so wild yet elegant is beyond me, but I’m not complaining.

Her beauty is a topic I could admire and discuss for hours.

The red tattoos that stretch from her chest to her stomach and thighs only emphasize the small, firm, and powerful muscles beneath.

People often say that you’re judged by your attire… With her, it’s the opposite.

Dressed in a sparkling golden bikini that often seems cheap and gaudy, she somehow elevates the outfit to new heights of elegance, despite the natural worldliness of such a lustful outift. Gilgamesh breathes life into whatever she wears.

It is no wonder even a God desired her.

Besides me, Caragor yowls loud enough to startle the birds, throwing a dirty look that I promptly ignore.

He wouldn’t understand… This isn’t ‘Snow White.’ Animals—even demonic ones, it seems—have a completely different standard of beauty compared to us humans.

“Are you just going to watch, or will you join me in this beautiful sunlight?” 

Awestruck, I stumble off the roof, the air around me vibrating to create the illusion of flying as it cushions my fall. 

For a moment, I wonder if this is how Actaeon felt when he glimpsed the Goddess of the Hunt bathing…

What Paris felt when he stole someone’s wife and ignited a war between the City-Atate of Troy and the Achaeans over Princess Helen…

What drove the King of Zhou to abandon his legacy for a Fox Spirit.

Ruin she might bring, but it is worth it.

'Damn [Charisma].’ 

I could go on and on and on, but…

“You’re staring.” 

“Yes I am.” And no, I’m not ashamed.

I don’t do any of that babbling apology bullshit anime is so fond of… No sir.

Glancing at the chair next to hers, I chuckle and quickly strip down to my boxer briefs, because anything else is just wrong. You can’t trust a pure briefs-wearer.

“Your mind is wandering again.” Gil snorts as I plop down in the seat beside her. “Sorry, I was thinking about whether I could take on a gorilla if I were just an average person. No Magecraft, no Sorcery Traits, no Mystic Codes. Think I can do it?”

“Probable.” 

“A bear?” 

“That’s a tougher challenge, but if you’re determined enough…” 

Smiling as I look at her, I tease, the word sliding smoothly down my tongue. “What about a lioness? Think I can handle that?”

###SMUT!!!###

With a playful glint in her eyes, the Golden Queen rises and settles onto my lap. “You can find out right now.” After being cockblocked thrice and missing out on pure bliss for a week straight, I’m in no mood for foreplay, and from the way she is… Grinding; touching; tickling my nose with her hot breaths, I doubt Gil is either.

I curiously trace my finger along her tattoos, my other hand gliding through her hair, then down her spine; happily drinking in the bodily reactions she so freely expresses.

As if synchronized with my touch, her back arches beautifully burrying me in 25 pounds of heavens, while my loins stirs, the heat of pure desire pouring downwards.

It’s hard to truly appreciate the softness of a DD-cup until you’ve experienced it firsthand.

Compared to Ciri’s E-cup, Gil’s are definitely more generous… Fuller to the palm.

How they remain so perky, I have not a clue, but how would I dare complain?

Her breath hitches as my fingers clumsily fumble with her bikini top. The knot comes undone so effortlessly that I can’t help but wonder if it was ever tied at all.

Noticing my confusion, Gil laughs softly. “You’re not the only one who’s been wanting."

As she shifts, her top slips down, a gentle breeze cushioning its fall, tousling my hair and briefly blocking my view.

Frustration wells up inside me, forcing me to use [Vibration] and still the air around us.

With my vision clear again, I focus on her rosy peak, giving it a gentle lick.

It’s like tasting fine wine—you don’t gulp it down but rather savor every delicate sip to fully appreciate the ware.

Unlike the low, stifled groans Ciri usually tries to suppress in an attempt to deny her own feminity, Gil takes a deep breath and releases it in a steady, rhythmic flow like a heavenly choir singing right next to my ear.

I imagine if the Devil were to ever play music, it would sound just like this—a seductive melody of temptations, needs, and desires that I know can and will consume the both of us in its fiery embrace.

Cupping her breasts, the Queen gently pushes me onto my back, her messy hair blanketing the both of us and, for a moment, transporting she and I to what feels like our own little world.

“Speak to me, Leonis. Speak to me.”

With Ciri, I always knew what I needed to do—I knew exactly how gentle I had to be to elicit her reactions, sometimes even sacrificing my own desires.

But with Gil, the internal conflict is so much more intense, for unlike her, I cannot hurt the Queen.

Even if all the Perks I have are activated at one, A-Rank Strength is one Hell of barrier to cross.

My heart yearns for it to be tender lovemaking, while my more primal instincts crave something more… Something rough; unrestrained; wild.

“I want to make you mine,” I confess. “I want to see you undone beneath me, to replace that smug grin with something a bit more… Unruly. I want…”

I cut myself off by capturing her lips in a heated kiss, biting down just hard enough to break the skin.

Not one to be outdone, Gil counters by biting my exploring tongue, the metallic taste of our mingled blood and a rosy, sweet aftertaste spreads across our palates.

“You…” She heaves, hard nipples dragging against my chest. “You were saying?”

Gently, my hands slide down her hourglass figure, resting on her hip and hooking on the threads of her panties.

“I want to fuck you until you can barely stand, but first, I’d love to see those beautiful, plump lips,”

Gently caress her lips, I slide my thumb past their soft barrier—not that there’s much resistance to begin with, while Gil begins to suckle on it, her eyes glinting beautifully in the sunlight. There’s that look again… The ‘fuck-me’ look, but there’s something more—a hint of lust; love; or is it care? I guide her back until she hovers just above the noticeable bulge in my boxer-briefs.

“I want those lips wrapped around my cock. Is that too much to ask, your Majesty?”

I suppose there’s some truth to the saying ‘All men are the same’, after all.

I never imagined myself capable of speaking such coarse words without cringing, but perhaps it's more about finding someone who can stir such intense desire within me.

To be honest, I never felt much lust for my exes. Love, yes, but not this kind of intense desire that can overpower my rationality. She’s like the sweetest wine in the world, and I'm the willing connoisseur.

With a quick swipe of her tongue over her glossy lips, Gil lowers herself, her hips wiggling and her bare skin exposed as she presses her face against the bulge, taking a deep and almost greedy whiff.

Then, her tongue slips out of her warm, wet mouth, hooking onto my underwear and freeing me from the stuffy confines.

My cock springs forward, making a satisfying and meaty smack as it makes contact with her cheek. “Eager, are you?”

From the corner of my eye, I notice the two women—handmaidens, as Gil calls them—hiding behind a pillar.

Smiling, I wink at them, wordlessly giving the two the ‘go-ahead’.

Normally, I don’t feel lust toward them, mainly due to the close proximity with all the other hotter women in my life, but with Gil’s touch, it’s hard to keep control.

“Shall we give them a show? What do you say, my royal slut?”

Perhaps it’s reckless, but I’m curious to see how far I can push her.

At the mention of the rather derogatory name, Gil recoils with wide, startled eyes.

For a moment, I worry I’ve overstepped, but any indignation the Golden Queen manages to muster is betrayed by the deep flush that dusts her cheeks to her chest. “You—!”

As I get up, I silence her by introducing her mouth to my cock.

Despite the slightly annoyed expression she wears, Gil allows me entry with little to no resistance. That’s when it hits me—how many men or women have ever dared to be rough with Gil? I’m sure she’s been assertive with others, but perhaps the reverse has rarely, if ever, happened.

Could Gil possibly have a submissive side? My mind immediately wanders to scenes from Carnival Phantasm. Gilgamesh is usually depicted as a dominating force of nature encased in a human body, but when Artoria transformed into Saber Alter, he seemed quite willing to relinquish control. I wonder if she shares the trait…

“Do you trust me?” I ask, patiently waiting for an answer. After a moment of thought, she nods, letting her tongue run down my length. Gil’s not good at this at all… Not surprising. I doubt many men are willing to make the Queen service them in such a way. “Then lend me the [Chains of Heaven].”

Though slightly hesitant, the [Gate of Babylon] releases the Chains into the daylight, visible to the handmaidens, both of whom I’m certain are just average humans.

Not wanting to interrupt the moment, I turn to them, press a finger to my lips, and shush.

They too, it seems, have no intention of stopping despite the Supernatural display happening right before them, fingers continue to dig in their snatches with such urgency I fear they might hurt themselves. How anyone can handle anything or anyone with them long-ass fake nails, I have no idea, but… ‘Good girls.’

Stella the Homunculus on the other hand looks both confused and aroused, her glazed eyes drifting over my chest, my lap, then Gil herself. Poor girl. Honestly, I completely forgot about her earlier, too caught up in the chase. ‘Poor girl.’

Noticing where I’m looking, the two handmaidens try to coax the homunculus to leave, but she stubbornly refuses, mumbling under her breath about how she has a mission to accomplish, while uncomfortably rubbing her thighs together may I add.

Trusting they’ll handle the situation properly, I turn my attention back to Gil, maintaining a steady rhythm as I move enter and exit her. I’ve had one too many close brush with Death, battled monsters and Magi, but pulling away from her is hands-down one of, if not the most challenging things I’ve done to date.

Grabbing the [Chains of Heaven], I carefully secure her hands behind her back. It’s quite a gesture of trust on her part, considering Enkidu can affect all things Divine, which happens to include Gilgamesh—its own wielder.

She’s essentially placing herself at my mercy… A bold move indeed.

With a wave of my hand, I conjure a golden collar using [Gradation Air], a Spell I’ve neglected to use or practice until now, hesitant to take away the one thing that makes Shiro unique as a Magus. Consequently, my creation is as fragile as glass; too much force and it will simply vanish, which makes this all the more intriguing.

“The collar isn’t very sturdy, as you can tell. If it breaks, we’ll stop immediately.”

“You think that’s a threat?” She asks, narrowing her eyes.

“I’m not sure…” I respond, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and kissing her neck. I chuckle as she groans and rises unsteadily on her heels. I’ve certainly noticed how toned her thighs are before, but in heels? They are truly masterpieces of which no artisan could ever hope to replicate. “You tell me.”

Gently, I guide her to the hall, passing by the handmaidens who are now smooching the homunculus.

Paling, I stop in my tracks and turn to her. “When were you created?”

“1-1964, sir… Why? I was never… Used for this purpose. The late Lord Einzbern was rather indifferent to us. A…” She muffles a moan. “A Golem has no need for reproductive acts, he used to say.”

“No reason.” It’s already 1996… Thank the Gods… Dodged a fucking cannoball right there.

“And you two?” One’s 22, the other’s 26. They’re cousins too… Blonde and brunette each. Apparently, they were on a vacation in England and were swept up by the tempest that is Gilgamesh.

I’m honestly curious what she offered them. ‘Gotta ask her later.’

In a much-improved mood, I lead the Queen to the master bedroom, relying on her to point the way for us.

As expected, even her usual grace falters slightly given her awkward stance. To make it harder on her, I occasionally stop abruptly, causing her to bump her chest into my bare back, or I ‘accidentally’ tug the chain a bit too hard, making her stumble forward to keep pace with me.

By the time we reach the room, the annoyance on her face is noticeably more pronounced, but the evidence of her excitement—still dripping down her inner-thighs—tell me all I need to know. There’s nothing I would like more than to press her against the wall and have my way with her here and now, but by some miracles, I manage to hold the fort. Anticipation is half the game.

Throwing the door open with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, I rush inside and nudge her face-first onto the bed.

“I—I’ll have to teach you some manners later.” She mutters, weakly.

I chuckle at her ‘threat,’ my fingers lightly tracing over the dampness of the bush grown just above her canal. ‘Goddamn I’m getting more and more creative with these background thoughts.’

Quickly, I take hold of her chained wrists, exploring through the soft, golden curls to find the sensitive gem hidden beneath, hidden hin membranes of flesh.

I apply my ‘Cursed Technique: Double Reverse Vibration,’ and turn my index and middle fingers to make tiny, circular motions, transforming them into impromptu vibrators. ‘Call this number to get the Technique: 185-112-1225X.’

“Remember, if it breaks, we stop.” I remind her, then comes the pleasure.

She manages to stifle her loud moans—almost crossing into obscene screams—for only a moment before her near-animalistic groans fill the room. I don’t know what she’s yelling, only that her hips are moving rhythmically, the hypnotic motions revealing her anal entrance. I’ve never been fond of anal activities, as one messy experience was more than enough—or so I thought.

She has clearly thought of it.

“You came prepared, didn’t you?” I remark, surprised by the rosy scent instead of the foul stench I expected.

“How long have you been waiting for this?” I muse, spreading her cheeks.

“I… I don’t—!” Gil cries out, clear liquid staining the bed as I press against her back entrance.

“Remember,” I say, giving the collar a gentle tug as a reminder before proceeding.

Gil buries her face in the mattress in a vain attempt to stifle her moans, just as the handmaidens and Stella stumble into the room. The homunculus looks far less proper now, her milky white breasts exposed, her long skirt discarded, and her pantyhose torn at the crotch. The Einzberns aren’t fans of pubic hair, it seems.

Pre-cum, sweat, and her essence stain the bed as I hammer away, resting deep in her while my fingers stimulate her in ways only we and a select few in the Magi world could survive, much less endure.

I press on relentlessly, driven by a passion that defies all reason while daylight slowly drains.

Even after the handmaidens have fetched water for us multiple times, I’m still going strong. “Is this normal?” I wonder, puzzled. Though naturally lustful, sustaining this from 12:30 to 8 is unusual even for me, and I don’t think [Charisma] can do this to another person either. The homunculus has even passed out, likely due to inexperience which, of course, leads to overstimulation.

And yet, despite it all, the chain remains intact… It came close to breaking half a dozen times, don’t get me wrong. Each time she spasms or arches, I fear she’ll react too strongly and end it all. Sure enough, just as this thought crosses my mind, my three-pointed attack pushes the Queen over the edge.

With a loud clink, the collar and chain shatter, dissolving as Gil collapses in a sweaty heap.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I step back to admire the fruit of my labor. Her stomach now has a slight bulge, filled with my seed, and yet I’m still semi-hard, surprisingly ready for another round. “What the fuck…?”

I mutter in confusion as the blonde handmaiden passes me, carrying a clear glass anal plug which she roughly inserts into Gil’s rear. The forced entry does not seem to please the unconscious Queen, but it does me and my ego most definitely. I forgot to even keep count of the amount of times I’ve released, doubt Gil remembers hers either.

Mouth widening as the blonde drops to lick the spilt semen directly from Gil’s crack, I blurt. “Holy—!”

Where the Hell did Gil find these freaks?

I jump as the brunette grabs my junk, draggimg a half-asleep homunculus with her. Prying Stella’s mouth open and guiding her to my member.

“Stop! You don’t have to do this, Stella,” I urge.

“I want to,” The homunculus replies, her expression unchanged, dazed eyes glued to my cock as her blush deepens. “It’s… Fun.”

Turning to the brunette, I reason, “Whatever arrangement you and your cousin made with Gil doesn’t involve me—”

“But you’re the reason we’re here. Her Majesty said you might need help with the aphrodisiac in your system.”

Behind me, the blonde chimes in, her speech slightly muffled due to the cum in her mouth.

“She what?!”

My mind races back to the moment we exchanged kisses and the unfamiliar, rosy taste in my mouth that I had carelessly taken note of and promptly thrown to the back of my head.

“It’s alright… She mentioned the effects would wear off in a week at most. Until then…” Kneeling next to her younger cousin, the brunette and blonde place their hands on the homunculus and gently push her forward, ignoring her choked, wet coughs until I’m fully lodged in her throat. “Let us take care of you.”

“… She got me escorts?”

“We’re not escorts, silly!”

The brunette giggles while Stella gags again, her rhythm disrupted by their eager pushes. Though capable of resisting, she doesn’t, likely in an effort to mimic the Queen, allowing the handmaidens to guide her movements as they please and pleasure me.

“We’re just normal, everyday girls looking to… Find ourselves.” In bed with strangers? Not that I’m complaining, but…

A week…

Before, even I wouldn’t have been able to handle that, but with [Eternal Engine]…

“Fine,” I groan, lowering my voice as one kisses the left side of my length, another licks the opposite side all while Stella gags and drools away. “Do what you want…”

For the next week, it seems I’m going to live like a King, and honestly? It’s about fucking time.