[ if asked, wriothesley would’ve said he was perfectly content spending what little focus he had left before the evening on lavishing neuvillette with a kind of affection that veers dangerously close to complete reverence. he’s far too drawn in—committing every gasp, every shiver stirred by his touch to memory. and when neuvillette responds in that way that spurs him further on, he can’t help but leave behind marks in turn. not red—at least, not at first. they bloom slow and deep, bruising from dull gray to a rich violet where his mouth lingers due to neuvillette's immediate corruption. too cold beneath his lips to flush properly, but warm enough now to remember where he’s been.

it claws at something deep in him—an instinct to make sure neuvillette is cared for, and still made his, without threat.

meanwhile he's close to stripping the last barrier of clothing away, tempted to take neuvillette into his mouth just to wring out more of that sweet, strained pleading. but neuvillette nudges him upright—pulling him back from the edge. and wriothesley almost huffs, tempted to drag the other into his lap but ultimatley by a show of neuvillette working his pants and spats down.

wriothesley is almost hopeless, really. wholly enamored by neuvillette, especially when the other knows exactly how to appeal to him. his hands come to settle at neuvillette’s sides, running slow, soothing lines along his ribs as he stares—single-minded and entirely captivated. there’s a quiet pride in seeing the bruises he left, in watching neuvillette’s twin cocks begin to stir with rising heat.

and even the mention of his old title nearly pulls his attention from admiring. given the way neuvillette says it, softened at the edges but still enough to hook him with a crooked grin. wriothesley always brushes it off when others on the surface try it, as if they hold any sway in knowing his identity and often doesn't care for the way it rolls off their tongues. but here, with neuvillette, it settles different. especially when paired with the affectionate drag of nails down his chest, and eventually coaxing him out of his briefs like it’s second nature. ]

I’m glad one of us likes the fur— [ a heavy sigh breaks from his throat as he unabashedly thrusts into neuvillette’s hand, his lashes low as he lifts his gaze just enough to show the effect all of this is having on him. a groan leaves him, low and loose. ] I’ll be sure to keep up the habit just for you.

[ he doesn’t even get the chance to brace himself to rut even further into neuvillette's grip before he’s pinned flat to the bed—harder this time. neuvillette’s full weight presses into him, eyes dark and unrelenting. and wriothesley’s thoughts lightly spin, catching only on the other’s quiet vow to claim him first.

and archons, he is wanton. more than the last time the moon was full, but it delights him, truly—sends something euphoric spiraling in his chest. seeing as neuvillette is here, his, the object of all his desire. and so he drags a hand lower, wraps around himself, and gives a few experimental strokes. ]

But you’d best be quick about it, Neuvillette. [ a groan follows, half-bitten off as he writhes atop the sheets. ] I’m finding it harder to focus on just you.

[ whether he means it or not is anyone’s guess—but it hardly matters. he’s already working a steady rhythm with no shame, legs spread wide over neuvillette’s thighs, pleasuring himself like neuvillette is nothing but a witness. a precious, helpless witness. ]