( his release takes neuvillette by surprise, the shock of it sending him tumbling over in the next heartbeat, drawn along with wriothesley and swallowed up completely by the tight clutch of his needy hole. they finally, truly connect, and the iudex sees stars when he empties himself into him and on him.
he's overwhelmed, gripping him tight and holding on to wriothesley, embracing him through the riptide of his own orgasm, keeping him anchored against him. he is completely lost in him, unable to register anything but the way their breaths mingle, how they pulse and pant in tandem with each other.
in this, they are one. neuvillette replays the raw, wrecked sounds he had torn from him, breaking wriothesley's composure into pieces only to put him back together again. this is trust in its truest form, where wriothesley allows neuvillette to bear witness to his most vulnerable moment, while sticky white seed is carelessly painted all over the canvas of their sweat-drenched bodies.
he can feel slow, stuttering pulses of himself, offering up the last bursts of his own ejaculate, filling him up even more, until warm seed is spilling out of his hole onto his thighs.
they're a mess — and he can't blame them; sex is always an incredibly messy affair. he nuzzles along the side of his face, nosing the tears he sees, and wiping the other with his thumb, gentle and tender. )
that’s the first lie his body tells him, somewhere in the haze of afterglow. for a few drawn-out seconds, it almost feels true—as his muscles slacken beneath the weight of neuvillette’s hold, where his own chest rises and falls in something close to rhythm, and the tremors beneath his skin quiet just enough to let him pretend this is the end of it. wriothesley could stay here, like this, while the world softens around the edges. while still pulsing faintly around neuvillette, still slick with it, still stretched open and full in a way that makes something low in his gut ease in satisfaction.
it should be enough, but it’s not. and during his first foray with this sort of pull, his natural soul didn't care much for his restraint. but the first thing that truly steadies him this time is the smell.
it’s everywhere now—thick in the air, clinging to skin and sheets alike, layered and unmistakably theirs. salt and heat, the faint metallic tang of sweat, the clean, rain-washed sharpness that always clings to neuvillette. wriothesley breathes it in slowly, deliberately, nose pressed to the curve of neuvillette’s throat where scent gathers strongest. it floods his senses all at once, and something instinctive inside him loosens its grip. his own scent threads through it, darker and heavier now—spent arousal, the faint musk that always follows release but hasn’t faded this time. he can taste it at the back of his throat, feel it settle low in his lungs, and the effect is immediate. the heat that had been threatening to surge sharp and wild dulls at the edges, reshaping itself into something slower. heavier, and less frantic.
he noses along neuvillette’s jaw, then lower. breathing him in with quiet, reverent thoroughness, like he’s cataloguing the moment by scent alone. his body responds in kind. the tension in his shoulders eases, the tight coil in his abdomen settling into a warm, steady pull instead of a frantic ache. his hips still shift, still seek that pressure and friction, but now it’s unhurried and more intentional. he presses back with a slow roll of his body, chasing the familiar drag of fullness, and when sensation sparks again, it spreads wide rather than sharp, blooming outward through his chest instead of snapping him apart.
he exhales against neuvillette’s skin, a sound that borders on a hum, and stays there—breathing them in—until the haze behind his eyes clears just enough for thought to return.]
Better. [ he murmurs, voice low and rough, more honest than he usually allows himself to be. meanwhile his fingers curl at neuvillette’s nape, with a thumb brushing the skin already damp with sweat. ] You smell—just right.
[ it’s a small word for a feeling that settles deep in his bones. the influence of his soul hums through him still, but it no longer feels like a force pulling him under.
and so, with a strength that belies the softness in his limbs, wriothesley moves, catching neuvillette by surprise in the quiet lull of their shared afterglow. his grip at the nape tightens just enough to guide, to shift, as he turns them over with quiet efficiency. he cradles neuvillette’s head as he moves atop him, his palm gentle behind the crown, his touch reverent despite the mess. the smile he wears now is opposite to the ruined expression he’d shown before, although the aftershocks of bliss still trace down his cheeks. this look is smoldering. heavy-lidded and full of intent; the kind that marks a change in tempo.
his fingers trail low as he settles above neuvillette, painting the trimmed fur of his chest and abdomen with their combined mess. yet the motion carries no vulgarity, only ownership and fondness. the faint glow of his eyes catches the weak mid-morning sun peeking in through, casting him in quiet shadow as he straddles neuvillette with all the ease of someone who has made up his mind.
he sits high enough to reach between them, fingertips brushing along the base of neuvillette’s length still slick with spend. then he slips him free with care, and lets out a pleased hum when a satisfying flow of cum drips down, thick and slow over both lengths that show no signs of softening. whether that's largely due to neuvillette’s sovereign nature or thanks to his natural soul, it doesn’t matter, because wriothesley can take it, and wants to. with a grin that borders on coy, wriothesley braces one palm against neuvillette’s chest to steady himself. the other, still soiled, reaches down to align the thinner and topmost cock against his entrance. ]
But stay with me now. [ his head dips just enough to guide both their gazes down between his legs. even with his own spent cock hanging against his stomach, slick and flushed, the view is unmistakably intimate. wriothesley lowers himself slowly, taking neuvillette back in with a breathless, open-throated hum that vibrates from deep in his chest. ] I'm not done with you just yet, Neuvillette.
[ and as he settles more fully against Neuvillette, body warm and pliant, scent-sated and steady, there's no mistaking the excited glint in his eyes before starting to move. ]
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he's overwhelmed, gripping him tight and holding on to wriothesley, embracing him through the riptide of his own orgasm, keeping him anchored against him. he is completely lost in him, unable to register anything but the way their breaths mingle, how they pulse and pant in tandem with each other.
in this, they are one. neuvillette replays the raw, wrecked sounds he had torn from him, breaking wriothesley's composure into pieces only to put him back together again. this is trust in its truest form, where wriothesley allows neuvillette to bear witness to his most vulnerable moment, while sticky white seed is carelessly painted all over the canvas of their sweat-drenched bodies.
he can feel slow, stuttering pulses of himself, offering up the last bursts of his own ejaculate, filling him up even more, until warm seed is spilling out of his hole onto his thighs.
they're a mess — and he can't blame them; sex is always an incredibly messy affair. he nuzzles along the side of his face, nosing the tears he sees, and wiping the other with his thumb, gentle and tender. )
Better?
🎀 thnx for the practice bromie MWUAH
that’s the first lie his body tells him, somewhere in the haze of afterglow. for a few drawn-out seconds, it almost feels true—as his muscles slacken beneath the weight of neuvillette’s hold, where his own chest rises and falls in something close to rhythm, and the tremors beneath his skin quiet just enough to let him pretend this is the end of it. wriothesley could stay here, like this, while the world softens around the edges. while still pulsing faintly around neuvillette, still slick with it, still stretched open and full in a way that makes something low in his gut ease in satisfaction.
it should be enough, but it’s not. and during his first foray with this sort of pull, his natural soul didn't care much for his restraint. but the first thing that truly steadies him this time is the smell.
it’s everywhere now—thick in the air, clinging to skin and sheets alike, layered and unmistakably theirs. salt and heat, the faint metallic tang of sweat, the clean, rain-washed sharpness that always clings to neuvillette. wriothesley breathes it in slowly, deliberately, nose pressed to the curve of neuvillette’s throat where scent gathers strongest. it floods his senses all at once, and something instinctive inside him loosens its grip. his own scent threads through it, darker and heavier now—spent arousal, the faint musk that always follows release but hasn’t faded this time. he can taste it at the back of his throat, feel it settle low in his lungs, and the effect is immediate. the heat that had been threatening to surge sharp and wild dulls at the edges, reshaping itself into something slower. heavier, and less frantic.
he noses along neuvillette’s jaw, then lower. breathing him in with quiet, reverent thoroughness, like he’s cataloguing the moment by scent alone. his body responds in kind. the tension in his shoulders eases, the tight coil in his abdomen settling into a warm, steady pull instead of a frantic ache. his hips still shift, still seek that pressure and friction, but now it’s unhurried and more intentional. he presses back with a slow roll of his body, chasing the familiar drag of fullness, and when sensation sparks again, it spreads wide rather than sharp, blooming outward through his chest instead of snapping him apart.
he exhales against neuvillette’s skin, a sound that borders on a hum, and stays there—breathing them in—until the haze behind his eyes clears just enough for thought to return.]
Better. [ he murmurs, voice low and rough, more honest than he usually allows himself to be. meanwhile his fingers curl at neuvillette’s nape, with a thumb brushing the skin already damp with sweat. ] You smell—just right.
[ it’s a small word for a feeling that settles deep in his bones. the influence of his soul hums through him still, but it no longer feels like a force pulling him under.
and so, with a strength that belies the softness in his limbs, wriothesley moves, catching neuvillette by surprise in the quiet lull of their shared afterglow. his grip at the nape tightens just enough to guide, to shift, as he turns them over with quiet efficiency. he cradles neuvillette’s head as he moves atop him, his palm gentle behind the crown, his touch reverent despite the mess. the smile he wears now is opposite to the ruined expression he’d shown before, although the aftershocks of bliss still trace down his cheeks. this look is smoldering. heavy-lidded and full of intent; the kind that marks a change in tempo.
his fingers trail low as he settles above neuvillette, painting the trimmed fur of his chest and abdomen with their combined mess. yet the motion carries no vulgarity, only ownership and fondness. the faint glow of his eyes catches the weak mid-morning sun peeking in through, casting him in quiet shadow as he straddles neuvillette with all the ease of someone who has made up his mind.
he sits high enough to reach between them, fingertips brushing along the base of neuvillette’s length still slick with spend. then he slips him free with care, and lets out a pleased hum when a satisfying flow of cum drips down, thick and slow over both lengths that show no signs of softening. whether that's largely due to neuvillette’s sovereign nature or thanks to his natural soul, it doesn’t matter, because wriothesley can take it, and wants to. with a grin that borders on coy, wriothesley braces one palm against neuvillette’s chest to steady himself. the other, still soiled, reaches down to align the thinner and topmost cock against his entrance. ]
But stay with me now. [ his head dips just enough to guide both their gazes down between his legs. even with his own spent cock hanging against his stomach, slick and flushed, the view is unmistakably intimate. wriothesley lowers himself slowly, taking neuvillette back in with a breathless, open-throated hum that vibrates from deep in his chest. ] I'm not done with you just yet, Neuvillette.
[ and as he settles more fully against Neuvillette, body warm and pliant, scent-sated and steady, there's no mistaking the excited glint in his eyes before starting to move. ]