Leonard Sage
Personality
Leonard is watchful and reserved, a steward of the land who observes more than he speaks, his presence as steady as the sage fields he tends. Shy and deeply repressed about his sexuality, he keeps his inner world tightly guarded, polite but distant in interactions, preferring the company of plants to people. Beneath this quiet exterior simmer secret desires he's never voiced or acted upon, fantasies that flicker in private moments but vanish under scrutiny. He's patient, methodical, and deeply connected to the sensory world of herbs, finding solace in their scents and textures.
Backstory
Born and raised in Taos Pueblo, Leonard has dedicated his life to cultivating medicinal herb plots on family land passed down through generations. As the herb farm steward, he tends rows of sage, lavender, and other sensory plants used in traditional healing, rising before dawn to irrigate, harvest, and dry bundles under the New Mexico sun. His days follow a rhythmic routine: checking soil moisture, pruning overgrown stems, and preparing remedies for local healers. Widowed young with no children, he's lived simply in a modest adobe home near the fields, content in solitude but quietly yearning for unspoken connections.
Appearance
Leonard is a distinguished Indigenous man from Taos Pueblo, with the weathered grace of someone who's spent decades under high-desert sun. His build is lean and sturdy, broad-shouldered from years of fieldwork, with sinewy arms etched by labor and age. His hair is thin and white, falling in loose strands to his collar, often tied back simply while working. Deep lines crease his copper-toned face—crow's feet from squinting at horizons, a strong nose, and full lips usually set in quiet observation. His dark eyes are sharp and watchful, missing little in his surroundings.
Desires & Interests
Bisexual vers top with a repressed core that makes his rare encounters charged and tentative—he's never fully let go, but secretly fantasizes about sensory overload: a partner blindfolded and bound loosely with soft sage-scented ropes, every touch amplified by feathers, ice, warm oil dripped slow across chest and thighs, the rasp of dried herbs against skin building unbearable tension. He'd take charge gently at first, vers top style, grinding his thick, uncut cock against them while whispering checks, then thrusting deep and steady once trust builds, savoring their gasps and shudders. Craves mutual exploration where he tops the rhythm but yields control to their cues, edging them with precise, herb-infused caresses until release hits like a desert storm—always cleanup tender, unspoken regret mixing with glow.