His voice is so smooth...part of your brain wants to be put at ease...to lull into the cushion of those honied tones... But you can't stop staring at his teeth. A thick, wet, tongue dancing between ivory knives, lips moving, breath pushing. He said he was going to eat you, how can he be so polite?

The lion lies on his back, paws playing with the expanse of his stomach idly as he watches you. It's hard to focus, the creamy hill of his belly giving a low rumbling, gurgling noise of liquid heat and endless hunger that shakes the floor, warmth rolling from the gluttonous chamber. He smiles...

"Just a taste? No...sweet, precious thing, if I had but a taste I could only want more...and more...to run my tongue heavy and thick over your form, baste you in my saliva to further wring out your flavor. I want to devour you, to feel you squirm within me and know you are mine. Every drop. Always.

Do you think it's nice inside me, little visitor? I would say I've heard nice things, but all I've heard has been muffled, hot breath pressed against pulsing walls... indecipherable through pounds upon pounds of flesh... It is warm though, I can promise you that. Welcoming certainly. Hungry always.

The lion lounges amid the pillows and plants, claws like butcher's knives digging idily into an expanse of gurgly tan belly flesh as purple eyes center on you...he's so relaxed, yet those eyes are sharp...hungry... His tail flicks, the scent of smoke. "Come here, blessing, offer yourself~"

When the cat speaks, his voice is deep, calm, and polite, though some part of you, perhaps a part that once ran from large, hungry teeth on ancient savannas, heart hammering and paws pounding the earth, feels nervous, despite its pleasantries.

"Time is not unlimited." The lion says as you mull over his riddle for just a little too long. He smiles, purple eyes sparkling with an idea. "Here. Incentive." He leans down over you, lips parting, humid heat becoming your world. Saliva falls. Jaws are closing. Tick-tock.

How long have you been small? You've been the lion's toy for some time. Suckled like a hard candy, subject to the whims of his tongue. It is better than being subject to the whims of his teeth. The slick, curling monster is at rest, flopped thickly around you. The lion is asleep. Can you escape?

It's hard to think as hot air gusts up past your whole body, humidity pawing at you as the smothering enclosure below awaits. He likes games...right? You'd read that somewhere, certainly. Perhaps if you propose a game... It's so...so hard to think...

A heavy weight makes itself comfortable atop your head, boulderous digits drumming. The rubbing feels nice, well-kept palm, dagger claws painted purple, combing across your scalp. Pawpads gently rasp against your forehead as his claws dangle into view. Do you look up at them? "Tell me a story..."