by Cardeno C.
“Amy Young’s.” Amy shared her home with eight other female lions who didn’t have cubs. She was the most senior lion in the den, and therefore, the head of that household.
Hugh followed Johnnie into his bedroom and leaned against the doorframe as he got his clothes out of his dresser and began putting them on. Johnnie stepped into his underwear and pants, slid on his socks and loafers, and then pulled Hugh’s sweater off. After folding it and setting it on the bed, he put on an undershirt and a white button-down oxford.
“Tell me again why you can wear those clothes all day with no problem but at night you’re bothered by tags and seams?” Hugh asked, this time genuinely curious about the answer.
Looking up from his waistband, where he was tucking in his shirt, Johnnie said, “Um, I don’t love the clothes when I’m awake either, but I’m representing you so I need to look appropriate.” He shrugged. “I’m focused on whatever we’re doing so it’s not as bad. It’s not like I’m trying to sleep or relax during the day.”
“I see.” Hugh still wasn’t sure he understood precisely what bothered Johnnie about the clothing, but he recognized for the first time that Johnnie did more than sit around all day. If he had ever thought about it, Hugh would have already realized that keeping up with his schedule was a job in and of itself. As they walked downstairs in silence, Hugh thought about what else he had failed to consider.
“What about in your lion form?” he asked once they were in his Escalade, driving to Amy’s den.
Immediately understanding that Hugh was picking up the thread of their conversation from earlier, Johnnie said, “I enjoy being in that form, but I don’t know how I’d react to clothing on me because that’s never happened.” He paused and, after a couple of seconds of silence, started chuckling.
An image of a lion wearing clothes popped into Hugh’s head and he too laughed. “Can you imagine how quickly we’d ruin our clothes if we wore them in that form?”
“Catching pants on bushes as we run by,” Johnnie said, laughing louder.
“Blood stains when we hunt,” Hugh said, the images getting more and more ridiculous as he visualized a fully-grown lion hunting an antelope while wearing a collared shirt.
“Rips from climbing trees in formal wear,” Johnnie said breathlessly.
“And when we want to fuck, we’ll have to bite off each other’s pants so then we’ll be stuck only wearing a shirt.” That picture had Hugh howling. “Like Donald Duck or Winnie the Pooh or those Chipmunks.” He pulled up to their destination, still catching his breath, and turned to Johnnie, who was looking out the window. “Why is it Mickey gets pants and Donald doesn’t?”
Johnnie shrugged.
“They both have tails so it can’t be that.” Hugh unbuckled his seatbelt.
Slowly, Johnnie twisted his body around.
“Is it because of Donald’s big feet?”
Johnnie looked at him and it was all the encouragement he needed to continue. “Can you imagine Donald getting those giant duck feet through his pants legs?”
In response to that image, Johnnie snorted. “I don’t think it’s possible.”
“Fine, but what’s their excuse for Daisy?” Hugh threw his hands in the air. “She’s a female. Why can’t she wear a dress like Minnie? The big feet won’t interfere with a dress.”
His eyes twinkling, Johnnie looked at Hugh. “You’re being silly.” He smiled softly. “I’ve never seen you act silly.”
Hugh’s first thought was to say they hadn’t known each other long, but he dismissed it, because while having conversations with Johnnie was a new development, they’d spent many years in each other’s presence. In fact, Johnnie likely knew Hugh’s moods better than anyone. He certainly had the most firsthand exposure to them.
“Premiers aren’t silly,” Hugh said by way of explanation, trying to keep a straight face despite the fun he was having. “We’re serious, ruthless, and strong.”
“I’ll make sure to keep your cartoon interests to myself then,” Johnnie said, his lips twitching.
“That’s very generous.” Hugh waggled his eyebrows and opened the car door.
“Not really.” Johnnie unbuckled and opened the door on his side. “Nobody talks to me anyway so there’s no one to tell.” He stepped out of the vehicle.
The statement was made in the same lighthearted tone they’d both been using throughout the conversation, but it hit Hugh in the gut, halting him in place and leaving him queasy. Before he could analyze his reaction or figure out how to respond, the front door of the pride home they were visiting swung open and lion shifters streamed outside to greet him.
“Hi, Premier!”
“We hope you’re hungry because Jennifer said you love pasta but Bevy was sure fried chicken’s your favorite so we made both.”
“And that meant we had to make side dishes to go with each of them.”
“And desserts.”
He slowly stepped out of the vehicle and forced himself to focus his attention on the pride members swarming him. Allowing them to sweep him into the house, he said, “Jennifer and Bevy are both right. Those are two of my favorite meals.” Both females beamed. “Johnnie, did you hear what they said?” he asked as he turned around, confirming that Johnnie was following him. “We’ll be stuffed for days.”
“Who’s Johnnie?” asked Laura Teak, tilting her head to the side and furrowing her brow.
“The Siphon,” Hugh answered. He stretched his arm out toward Johnnie, who stood on the threshold to the house, outside the ring formed by the lion shifters. He curled his fingers up, encouraging Johnnie to step into the fold.
Some of the pride members turned to look at Johnnie, while others remained focused on Hugh. He heard a few whispered comments about not realizing the Siphon had a name, but the interest passed quickly. Then he was handed a drink and an appetizer, led to the largest sofa in the living room, and regaled with questions and stories.
Mara Terrence and Ashley Early sat at either side of him and asked his opinion about a new business venture they were considering. Debra Reedy shared anecdotes from her visit with a cousin who lived two states over in a Nebraska pride. And Karina Landis sought his advice about whether she should have a baby or wait a few more years.
Immediately, Hugh got drawn in to his pride’s needs. He listened to their ideas and made suggestions, moved with them to the dining room when it was time to eat, complimented the meal, and negotiated a resolution to a disagreement that had been brewing between two shifters who had agreed to put it on hold until Hugh’s visit. By the time they finished dessert, he was ready to go home with Johnnie, who sat quietly at the corner of the table, as he had all evening.
“Thank you for another night of great food and even better company.” Hoping he had provided useful information and calming vibes for his lions, he rose from his chair, smiled at the females sitting around the table, and made eye contact with each of them. “We’ll do this again very soon,” he promised.
“You’re leaving?” Bevy asked sadly.
“You never leave this early, Premier.”
That was true. Generally, after eating, they all ended up fucking in one of the common areas. Sex was a tried and true method of bonding and unity building as well as a good way for a Premier to release his high levels of semen, so it was a regular part of Hugh’s visits with his pride members. He’d rutted on the rug in this den’s living room more times than he could count. But despite his balls feeling heavy, he had no desire to screw.
“It’s been a busy week,” he said. “And it’s only Tuesday.” He smiled again and then began walking toward the front door, watching Johnnie from his peripheral vision.
“Hugh!” Karina chased after him. “Are you sure you can’t stay?” She grasped his arm and ran her palm down his chest to his groin. “After our talk tonight, I’ve decided to go ahead and get pregnant.” She raised herself on her tiptoes and rubbed her hand over his shaft as she whispered, “I won’t get to feel you inside
me for over a year.”
Female lions who wanted to conceive focused all of their sexual energy on the males they identified as potential sires. Although Premiers produced more seed than other lions and, like their animal counterparts, were able to mate dozens of times per day regardless of whether they were in human or animal form, their semen wasn’t fertile. Also, unlike other male lions, when a Premier mated in his animal forms, his penis didn’t have the spines needed to rake the vaginal walls and trigger ovulation. The physical anomalies in Premiers benefited prides because, if a Premier could procreate, any childbearing lion would choose him as a prospective father for her young, and a Premier’s voracious sexual needs and extended life would result in a disproportionate number of descendants and ultimately destroy the diversity in a pride’s bloodline.
“I’m glad you made your decision,” Hugh said. He hunched down and kissed Karina’s forehead. “You’ll be a wonderful mother. Please let me know if you need help finding a new den.”
There were plenty of homes occupied by females with young children, many of whom had lived with Karina before they’d had their own cubs, so she wouldn’t have any trouble locating a new place to live, but knowing her Premier was available to help her would soothe the lion within and make his sexual rejection less painful. After gently warding off a few other suggestive remarks, hugging a couple of the shifters who rubbed up against him, and reminding them about the pride run, which was less than two weeks away, Hugh finally left the den, with Johnnie trailing behind him.
“Thanks again,” he said as he waved through the lowered car window. He was happy to see the most amorous lions grouped together, touching and fondling. Relieved that their physical needs would be met, regardless of his leaving, Hugh smiled one last time and then drove away.
Chapter 5
The week proceeded as usual and during every pride activity, whether a visit at Hugh’s house, a meeting, or a nightly dinner, nobody interacted with Johnnie. When they had sat in the car outside of Amy’s den, Johnnie had nonchalantly mentioned this treatment, but for the first time, Hugh noticed it in action. Or maybe, for the first time, it bothered him.
Johnnie still shared his bed every night, so Hugh could have talked to him about the situation when they got home but the list of things he needed to do for the pride distracted him. Plus, he was trying to figure out what had set off warning bells in his mind when he’d met Dennis Jones’s visiting college friend, who’d joined them for dinner at one of the male pride homes on Wednesday. But more than anything, he didn’t talk to Johnnie about his interaction with the other pride members because he didn’t know what to say.
Johnnie was a Siphon, made to carry a Premier’s power so the Premier could take care of the pride. That role was well-known and firmly established long before Hugh was born. But Johnnie was also a lion, a person, and a member of Hugh’s pride, and a Premier took care of his pride. Hugh had the sinking feeling that he hadn’t provided care for this particular pride member. And now that Hugh knew him, his plan of paying lip service to the Siphon so he would stop his foolish attempts at death had morphed into a genuine desire to address Johnnie’s concerns.
Another realization Hugh had gained from the time he’d spent talking with the Siphon was how much he enjoyed having someone to chat with about mundane things. When he needed advice related to one of his lions or wanted a second opinion on how to deal with trouble brewing in other prides, he consulted Berk elders, who were chronologically younger than he was but still had years of life experience under their belts. He had no shortage of lions who wanted to talk to him about their thoughts and worries. But his job required the pride and outsiders to see him as all-powerful. Meaningless comments about life minutia and things not related to the good of the pride didn’t fit that image so Hugh kept them to himself. But not anymore.
Hugh had initially resented having to monitor Johnnie every minute of every day because he had viewed it as a loss of what had been his only downtime, but it hadn’t taken long for him to see that Johnnie’s presence was a benefit rather than a detriment. He was the quietest lion Hugh had ever come across and Hugh never let him out of his sight, so anything Hugh said and did in front of Johnnie would remain private. And whatever else Johnnie had bouncing around in his unique brain, his actions had clearly established that he had no worries about the decimation of the pride or his own death, which meant Johnnie would never care about how Hugh’s image impacted him or the pride.
Speaking and acting without censoring himself was freeing. Even better was doing it with someone who seemed to genuinely enjoy the conversation. Johnnie’s laughter and rapt attention showed his interest in their chats. Plus, Hugh found Johnnie’s idiosyncrasies oddly interesting, even appealing. For ten years, he had been living with a stranger he didn’t notice. But over the past two weeks, Hugh felt as if he had a new friend of sorts. An eccentric, suicidal, homicidal friend, but still a friend.
Hugh sighed in relief when they walked into the house on Friday evening. “This was a crazy week.”
“It was…different,” Johnnie agreed.
“Did you pick out any favorite things to eat?” Hugh asked. Wanting to change into comfortable clothes before starting on dinner, he unbuttoned his shirt cuffs and then began working on the front buttons as he walked through the house toward the staircase.
“Not really. I’m fine with whatever.”
Johnnie’s footsteps sounded behind him on the stairs and then the two of them walked through the double doors leading to Hugh’s bedroom. As had become their habit, Johnnie went with him into his walk-in closet and waited while he changed. Hugh would then go into Johnnie’s room while he did the same.
“I’m glad we decided to stay in and cook.” Hugh shrugged out of his shirt, tossed it in the hamper, and then unbuckled his belt.
“Me too. I’ve been looking forward to it.”
“Can you imagine going out again tonight?” Hugh shook his head at the mere idea. “I don’t know if it’s the limited sunbathing hours or the holidays or end of year work obligations, but when the weather gets cool, people get crazy.” He hung his belt on a wall hook and toed off his loafers. “During dinner at Percy Milroy’s pride house, no fewer than three men talked to me about whether I think it’s fair that Van Hartwick’s pride house is having a Valentine’s party again this year.”
“I heard that,” Johnnie said. “They want to have one and they’re worried about overlaps in their guest list impacting attendance, right?”
“Yes, that’s what he said. But I’m managing a pride of almost two thousand lions. Does he honestly expect me to interfere in party planning?” Hugh unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. “Besides, it’s October seventeenth! Why are we talking about Valentine’s Day?”
Laughing, Johnnie said, “You’re right. Maybe you can make a rule that people can’t talk about Valentine’s Day when we still have to get through Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Hugh wiggled out of his pants and then shook them off before draping them over a hanger. “They’re driving me to drink.” He snorted. “Well, they would if I could get the alcohol into my body fast enough to make an impact before I burn it all off.” Aside from being three hundred pounds, Hugh had a higher metabolism than other shifters. Those things made consuming drugs and alcohol pointless and also explained why he ran hot. “And they wondered why I wanted to go home instead of sticking around after dinner.” He sighed and removed his socks.
Johnnie coughed. “I, uh, noticed you haven’t been as interested in spending, um, time with the pride members as usual.”
That comment froze Hugh in his tracks. Paramount to his role was that his lions felt important.
“What do you mean?” he asked, spinning around to look at Johnnie.
“Nothing. Just, you know.” Johnnie shrugged. “You haven’t been, uh, the way you usually are with everyone lately.”
The explanation was so vague that Hugh had no idea h
ow interpret it.
“Say what you mean.”
“Usually you—” Johnnie flicked his gaze from a spot over Hugh’s shoulder, down to his underwear, and then to the floor. “When you have dinner at a pride home…afterward you usually—” He glanced at Hugh’s briefs, blinked rapidly, and then grimaced and swallowed loudly. “You…”
When Johnnie looked at his groin yet again, Hugh finally understood what he meant, though he had no idea why Johnnie was struggling to articulate something so simple and common.
“I didn’t stay to screw with them.” Hugh arched his eyebrows. “Is that what you mean?”
“Yes. I… Yes.” Johnnie nodded, glanced away, and then refocused on Hugh. “Why?”
“By the time we were done eating and talking, I wanted to go home.” And chit chat with Johnnie about nothing of importance. “If I’d have stayed to fuck, we wouldn’t have gotten home until after midnight.” And then they’d have barely had time to bathe let alone talk. “You know how it is once lions start fucking.” Especially if he was one of them. As a Premier, Hugh could ejaculate as frequently as a lion, which was a few dozen times a day, but he could do it even when he was in his human form. “Plus, I need to keep an eye on you. I can’t do that when I’m fucking.”
The talk of sex reminded Hugh of how full his balls were. His body produced high levels of semen and without regular releases, his nuts ached and his testosterone levels rose, making his temper unpredictable. Needing to relieve the pressure, he cupped himself and gently squeezed.
“That never, uh—” Johnnie’s gaze was glued to Hugh’s moving hand. “I’ve always been there when you—” His breathing came quicker.
Already, Hugh had denied himself for too long. Once he took the first step toward relieving his physical need, he couldn’t stop. He required satisfaction. Groaning, he shoved his briefs under his balls, curled his fingers around his dick, and started stroking.
“Ah, fuck, yes.”
He spread his legs, leaned against the wall, and tugged hard and fast. “Haven’t done this in too long.”
