[ if wriothesley weren’t wrestling with the odd need for warmth and closeness—that hasn’t quite turned mind-numbing just yet—he’d be treating this personal line with neuvillette with far more thought and care. but some things can’t be helped here in karteria, and rather than dwell on what he still can’t fully control, he’s at least grateful for how neuvillette answers plainly, as if it were just any other conversation.
which makes thinking up an equally ‘normal’ response a touch harder, though it gives him something to focus on. there’s no need to dress it up too much, so he lets out a short, barked laugh before continuing. ]
Truth be told, I'm sort of at a loss for how to word it all—but try and bear with me for a moment.
[ there's a low hum on his end. ]
Our last conversation. At the Valentia, when we talked about the changes with my soul. Well, what’s bound to happen tonight is... definitely one of them.
( in the years he has spent in close proximity with this particular personal relationship, neuvillette has learned how to divine the subtle nuances of wriothesley's laugh — the man puts up a fine front often, even if he's markedly less diligent about it in neuvillette's company. and neuvillette, well? he knows nothing else but honesty, which is perhaps why they get along so splendidly.
to hear the duke's admission of being at a loss is a novel thing, too; the man is shrewd and quick on his feet, but perhaps the entire experience of being trapped within karteria brings with it a host of new issues they haven't yet foreseen. neuvillette dreads having to experience the eventuality of it for himself, and appreciates the courage it takes for the wriothesley to admit that he needs help. )
Of course. ( he says, because that why he sounds like that, like he's readying himself for a difficult conversation. he shifts, his own concern for him overriding everything else. ) How may I help?
[ it's not wriothesley's preference to ask for something like this, in this way, but life in karteria—especially as an augmented—has long since taught him that habits and preferences don’t count for much in the long run. imprinting has kept him from being swallowed whole by his soul before, and while corruption is inevitable no matter how strong one's will is, he’s at least learned to brace for it. and while most things he can roll with and adapt to, but when it comes to this—this instinctual craving to be in a pack or, worse, the kind of closeness that turns feral—his body’s already made the decision for him, and he’s just lagging behind. ]
Your help depends on how involved you’d like to be in this. But to put it plainly, I’ll be craving companionship [ no use in dancing around it, though he tries to speak plainly and with a thread of poise—something to anchor himself with, so it still feels like a choice rather than surrender. ] My soul doesn’t rightly care who I share it with, but I’d still like to have some say in the matter.
[ his tone dulls a touch with that last admission, but he doesn’t delve into whether he’s already entertained the alternative. ]
If everything goes well, having you nearby should be enough. But I can’t make any promises it’ll stay that chaste. [ there’s a pause—weighted, but brief. just enough time for the warning to settle, not long enough for neuvillette to cut in just yet. ] So if you don’t mind the risk of me being out of sorts for the night… then I’d like for you to come over. Since if I’m bound to lose myself for a while, I’d rather it be with you than anyone else.
[ he already knows what it’s like to let that impulse take the reins entirely, and he’d rather not make it a habit of filling that space with just any warm, willing body. love and intimacy should be warm—anchored—not easy or fleeting, not just a way to scratch the surface of something deeper either. last month had been all jagged dissonance, all instinct and white noise. but now that he’s grounded, aware, and clearer on what he wants—he trusts neuvillette to hold him through it without fear. ]
( no, it is clearly not of wriothesley's own will that he asks for this — and yet, it's his own as well. it's awfully complicated, with his request layered in his own assertion for his own will, that desire to choose for himself despite the circumstances. neuvillette understands him perfectly, letting the implications sink in.
wriothesley chooses him because he wants to, because more than trust, there are the seeds of something deeper that they have never had the chance to explore back in teyvat, when the prophecy loomed above them like a death sentence. no, karteria is where wriothesley first broaches the subject, and neuvillette knows how much it takes out of him to tell him that he craves companionship, that intimacy is on the table, and that any notions of chastity ought to be set aside.
neuvillette, who prides himself on propriety and a certain measure of gallantry, shifts. he is unused to this, unversed in such a situation, but he must do what he can to alleviate wriothesley's worries, to be worthy of the weight of his trust. but more than that... more than trust lies something far deeper and layered, something neuvillette has allowed himself to think about in his most private moments. intimacy with wriothesley, to protect and hold him not out of obligation, but out of affection and desire, of the love that wriothesley has never had even as a child.
he feels his heart skip a beat, his own ache of quiet yearning, yet unshaped but very much present. here, there are no melusines to be their buffer (not that he wants them to, for something as important as this). here, neuvillette has to breach the distance himself.
suddenly, for all of this advance in technology, wriothesley feels so, so very far away. )
I should like to come over now. Will you see me?
( he asks at last, low and soft, his request gentle as the last of the summer wind. the rest of this conversation should be continued in person, and wriothesley should not be the only one making this request, not when neuvillette finds himself eagerly reciprocating. he wants to make him comfortable, to show him that he is not another task to be accomplished: wriothesley deserves the care and closeness he has so rarely been shown, to be eased into it and comforted. love, indeed, should be warm. )
[ above all else, neuvillette can count on wriothesley’s conviction—unwavering and rarely leaving room for doubt. as the ask alone proves how committed he is and it’s not pure desperation that drives him to reach out or offer, but the willingness to share a vulnerable moment with someone he trusts implicitly. neuvillette is more than a tether; he’s a presence wriothesley has come to respect and yearn for after years of working together.
yet life in karteria has a way of dragging certain feelings to the surface—raw and exposed like a shorn nerve. but even so, it's still sincere. not posturing, not performative. ironically, it’s a kind of pressure wriothesley has grown accustomed to after over a decade spent in a broken fortress as an inmate. neuvillette, on the other hand, isn’t someone who’s often had to sit face-to-face with that kind of stressor or emotional burden. but wriothesley’s worries ease the moment neuvillette hears him out fully and responds with that steady, unmistakable kindness of his. it’s the simplicity of his reply that tells wriothesley he understands—the weight of the situation, and the intent behind the ask. ]
Of course. You're always welcome here, Neuvillette.
[ it’s an honest invitation—one he could never voice back in fontaine, or at least not outright. not while he still wears the titles of duke and warden. and yet, for all the urgency behind it, the words hold steady, sincere. there’s no need to repeat them. and in the background, there’s the soft shuffle of movement as he tries to tidy up the place, at least a little. ]
The front door will be unlocked by the time you arrive, so feel free to let yourself in. I’ll see if I can sleep away some of this fever in the meantime.[ fortunately, they both know the route well—the walk from the valentia to wriothesley’s new apartment by the coast isn’t long. since most of the furnishings were chosen with neuvillette’s help; the space is modest, but respectable, and more than livable despite a few still-empty rooms.
true to his word, wriothesley takes a page from sigewinne’s playbook and tries to sleep through the worst of the heat. she’d probably be proud that some of her advice has stuck after all this time. meanwhile propriety makes a brief appearance in how he tries to dress properly, but wriothesley gives up quickly. it’s far too warm under the sheets. in the end, he dozes off in a loose shirt and shorts, tail freed from the blankets for air, ears flattened in a quiet bid for comfort. ]
( you're always welcome here, neuvillette. the words echo, searing deep into his heart and sparking an inexplicable warmth and surge of affection that he cannot deny. in the absence of pressing national matters, their relationship to each other is front and center, demanding focus and care.
neuvillette is still figuring out the subtleties of such an entanglement, the ramification of it and what it means to be summoned so easily to his side. this time, the primordial sea is out of the picture, and perhaps an argument can be made that the safety of karteria's citizens are of utmost concern, and therefore wriothesley's continued well-being is crucial, but he cannot bring himself to believe it. wriothesley's well-being matters to him, first.
he makes his way to wriothesley's apartment and lets himself in quietly, locking the door behind him. the place is cozy, silent, and unmistakably wriothesley's, even if it's nowhere as spartan as when he had first visited it. he seeks him out and finds him quickly enough, a sleeping, vulnerable man with his tail on full display, ears flattened as if seeking warmth, something, someone.
neuvillette doesn't hesitate, seating himself very gently on the edge of the bed beside him, a large bottle of purified water set on the nightstand just for him. his gloves are the next to be divested, set aside neatly by the bottle. his hand comes to curl in that messy mop of dark hair, stroking those flattened ears. he offers the comfort that wriothesley seeks, tender and unhurried. his thumb smooths over the outline of it, fingers massaging the base.
there, there. he's here. there's nothing for him to worry about. )
[ it's still early in the day, but the winter solstice here offers little of the sun as the turn of the month marches on—with night lingering where morning should be. it stirs a restlessness in his carnivora soul, and now he feels the same sort of hassle navia often complains of when the seasons turn. it's utterly frustrating, to say the least—but not unbearable just yet, not when touch and the welcome calm it brings begin to stir wriothesley out of sleep with a heavy sigh. he tenses briefly to stretch, then instinctively curls in a little closer towards neuvillette.
he unconsciously seeks the imprint through proximity, craning slightly to tilt his head into neuvillette’s bare and warm hand. where one of his ears twitches against the other’s fingers, and even half-asleep, wriothesley still has the presence of mind to brush the back of his hand over his cheek, trying to gauge the worst of the heat that's settled into his features. ]
Hey— [ he manages with a croaked laugh, hoarse but good-humored given the state of him. ] I'm glad you got here without much trouble.
[ the hand at his face turns to roughly rub at his eyes before blinking more awake. and with a softened look of his own, he rests that hand atop neuvillette’s thigh. ]
Thanks for helping me out with this, Neuvillette. I'll do my best to behave while I'm still all here.
( the cold is setting in, and neuvillette feels a little more sluggish than he'd expected, and as eager as wriothesley is in seeking out touch and calm, neuvillette finds his natural soul's instincts gravitating toward the younger man's natural body heat. he seeks him out with a yearning that startles even him, and he can't help but find himself caught on the softness of wriothesley's just-awakened look, helplessly drawn to the soft vulnerability that he has never seen on him.
no, this is wriothesley before all of his defence mechanisms kick in, so young and so open, and he forgets to breathe for a moment.
perhaps it's the effect of the imprinting, pleasant and warm like honey in his veins, warming up corners of himself that he didn't realize were bereft. or perhaps it's just wriothesley, with his hand on his thigh. his hand comes to rest on his cheek, thumb subconsciously smoothing over his bottom lip as he speaks.
warmth, softness. all these things neuvillette has never realized he wanted up until now. )
You don't have to do anything else but be at ease, Wriothesley. ( he tells him softly. ) I came because I wished to. The thought of you being alone and in profound discomfort is... unacceptable to me.
( but he has more he wants to say, so much more he needs to blurt out. ) I understand that you reached out to me because you wanted a choice despite your circumstances, and I, too, hope to make a choice, if you are willing and open.
( so it doesn't have to be forced, so that this can be their way of taking control, together. he takes a breath, and decides to just be honest, because there is no way to lead into this normally when none of what is happening to them is normal: )
I should like to kiss you, while you are still all here.
[ there's a more doubtful part of wriothesley that rears its head sometimes in karteria, where bonds seem forged less from sincerity and more from the need to survive. where they rarely feel genuine—formed more from necessity—and after his own near-disastrous shift, it’s easy to fall into that way of thinking. where the tenderness that follows an imprint feels unnatural, and he's left questioning every bit of attachment he's shared so far on some of the harder nights. and yet, it's neuvillette's presence alone that helps him accept it with less and less suspicion.
it might be unwise to hold the former chief justice in such high regard, but wriothesley knows that neuvillette is unfailingly honest if nothing else. even if they're both still trying to make sense of it all, he wants to offer neuvillette the same certainty he’s been given since the other's arrival—especially in a world and system where so much remains unpredictable.
and so he keeps looking up at neuvillette as he speaks, tilting his chin slightly to rest his cheek further into the other's hand, and letting his lips lightly brush against the pad of his thumb. ]
Now what was it I first said to you, when we crossed paths here? [ there's a grunt as wriothesley shifts, the bed dipping under his weight when he sits up with a cheeky grin, despite the lingering flush on his skin. ] My hero.
[ he takes neuvillette’s words far too seriously for a moment, to be more of himself, just enough to ease some of the tension in the air. but it’s well meant in the way he leans close—foregoing his usual preference for space and formality to show something more vulnerable. something disheveled in his current state, but nevertheless sincere. ]
I appreciate you seeing my plea for help as something more than just a worry to tend to, Neuvillette. You’ve always had a sense for the emotions behind the choices I make, even when I try to keep them hidden. But that’s something I’ve come to respect as well as cherish in you.
[ the earlier grin softens as he speaks while the hand that had rested on neuvillette’s thigh slips into the space between them, if only to brace himself as he leans into the other's shoulder. ]
I can already hear the gears turning in your head, especially in trying to make this all proper. But for what it's worth, you’ve made this one of the easiest confessions one can accept.
[ there’s no grand gesture to it—just wriothesley, straightforward and without the usual masks, pressing a quiet kiss against neuvillette’s bottom lip. it’s meant to be chaste, but the familiar scent of passing rain lingering on the other pulls something deeper from him. his tongue brushes the seam of neuvillette’s mouth before the kiss deepens, though he draws back before either of them are swept too far into it. and in the way wriothesley pulls back, he looks faintly breathless, but pleased in the way his ears excitedly twitch. ]
( wriothesley takes pains to give him clarity. whereas he had often been elusive in the past, mischievous and just out of reach for others, warm but not close, neuvillette has learned that the man has often been more than that for him; and now, he lets him know exactly where they stand, offering transparency in return for neuvillette's earnest honesty.
my hero, he says, and neuvillette feels the tips of his ears turn pink, intensifying when he leans forward so boldly to press his lips to his. neuvillette had asked, and wriothesley has so willingly given, the warmth of his lips chasing all coherent thought from his mind. warm, soft; the swipe of the duke's tongue is sensuous, and he parts his lips to invite him in, deepening the kiss.
neuvillette shifts forward, tongue lightly touching his and savoring the taste of him before he —
— wriothesley's pulling away, and without thinking, the dragon gives chase, lavender eyes dark and focused with the singular desire for more. he barely registers the question, the endearing twitch of his ears, his hungry gaze flicking down to his lips, to those flushed cheeks and ears, then back down to his lips again. he has been given a taste of him, divine and exhilarating. instead of responding, however, neuvillette only lunges forward, a hand cupping the back of wriothesley's head to keep him cradled, and sealing his lips to his again.
this time, words will not do. he's the one who seeks access, to taste and tangle and memorize him for himself. )
[ he's relieved the tease lands—just like it had during the chaos of the parade. the same words, the same dusting of pink on neuvillette’s ears, but this time there's a shift in weight behind them. something quieter and deeper. it blends well with the stark honesty in his voice, and the warmth that rises afterward creeps just past the flush already lingering from their shared confessions.
then comes the pause, subtle but arresting, when wriothesley draws back first. and neuvillette leans in—not forceful, but enough to chase the space between them—and the seconds stretch taut after that. wriothesley finds himself staring, almost pinned by lilac eyes now sharpened with something else. something searching. there's a hunger there, just beneath the surface, in the way neuvillette’s gaze traces his face. meanwhile self-awareness flickers to life under the weight of it, and wriothesley exhales the other's name before he thinks better of it. ]
Neuv—?
[ the name barely escapes before neuvillette meets his mouth with his own. the motion is sudden but not unkind, and wriothesley reacts on instinct—hands working to steady them both so they don’t fall back onto the bed outright. and outside of that brief catch, neuvillette swallows the faint gasp that follows as their mouths part and reconnect, tongues brushing in a slow and probing press.
it’s dizzying, not because it’s rushed but because of the intent behind it—an outpouring that feels almost too much to hold, but never careless. neuvillette settles against him, and every stroke of tongue is careful at first; a test, and wriothesley responds with soft sounds each time it brushes just right. gradually, the rhythm changes. becomes familiar. and the tension wound tight in his shoulders eases before giving way to trust. from there, awareness returns in pieces: the sudden give of the mattress at his back, the shift of neuvillette’s breath and weight above him, the way the room seems to hold still for them.
somewhere between the drag of the covers and the soft click of teeth, wriothesley leans in fully, answering need with his own. his tail moves of its own accord, flicking once then twice, a clear signal of how far he’s let himself go. where every pause to breathe turns into low murmurs—quiet, reverent—and every return to touch feels heavier. he reaches blindly, palms splayed in search of bare skin, but neuvillette's layers and the creeping edge of corruption make it difficult. still, he tries. and when his fingers finally find skin, it's cold—unmistakably so due to the other's reptilia soul, a contrast made sharper by the winter air around them. ]
Neuvillette.
[ he says it again, the name slipping out with a different cadence this time—lower, laced with an edge. it’s still early in the day, but he can’t quite tell if it’s the first flicker of heat waking beneath his skin, or just the echo of the imprint blooming stronger between them. maybe it’s both. maybe this is what it feels like when fondness stops hiding. before his hips move of their own volition, rutting up gently against neuvillette's leg, and the next time he says the other's name, it breaks on a low moan. ]
( he should stop it here, before it goes too far too quickly — everything in neuvillette wants to uphold propriety, to kiss him and have it be enough. but the intensifying flare of imprinting and the pleasantness that soothes the growing prickly frustration within him is addictive. it calms the soul within him, but awakens something more at the same time, rousing emotions that he had long thought were gone with how deeply they had been buried.
the simmer of want, the edge of yearning surprises him, as does the way he's practically pushing him down on the mattress, eyes dark. he is too clothed and too cold at the same time, and he makes a soft noise, urging wriothesley to find him, to touch him despite all these frustrating layers. when they find skin, he jumps a little, startled by the blossom of pleasure that unfurls in his chest.
he's not entirely sure it's just the imprinting, not when his heart races at the low, velvet murmur of his name on his tongue. it's different, wanting, and the pace of wriothesley's heart twines with his own. he can feel those hips up against his, too, the heat of him far too inviting for neuvillette to resist, the moan going right down to his newly-awakened libido. he kisses him again before breaking it quickly, pressing his cheek to his as he fights to maintain control of himself, his hand tightening on wriothesley's hip. )
[ so much for behaving, or for clinging onto everything else they usually keep tucked beneath the structure of their formalities. none of it stands a chance now, not when wriothesley sinks deeper into their kisses, and gives himself over fully without resistance as he shifts neuvillette to settle above him. the motion is fluid, hungry, and lacking any pretense—his desire plainly written in the way he spreads his legs to cradle neuvillette’s hips and presses up against him, his erection insistent despite the firm grip neuvillette uses to anchor him in place.
he’d been honest from the start, had warned neuvillette that his heat would lead them somewhere that defied every boundary of propriety. yet even so, he hadn’t invited neuvillette into his space simply to satisfy a nagging instinct. what burns between them is real, has been for years, and the time in karteria has only forced those feelings to the surface—ripping past every hesitation, every carefully placed wall, until only the truth remained. and now, wriothesley is far beyond the point of letting doubt or decorum keep him from tasting the warmth he’s long denied himself. with the imprint and peculiarities of his soul making it all the more easier to wholly accept.
it’s a mercy, really, that neuvillette takes a moment to pause and gather himself, though it does little to steady the heat between them. wriothesley uses the break to slip his hands through the carefully arranged layers of neuvillette’s clothes, each motion deliberate, his touch growing more insistent with each passing second. when he finally finds the hem of the other’s dress shirt, his fingers roughly twist and pull until it comes loose, giving him just enough space to lay his palm flat before running his heated touch against the new and uncharted terrain of neuvillette’s back.
there’s little room to work with beneath the elegant lines of neuvillette's usual attire—nothing short of simply tearing it away—but there’s enough give to thread his arms around neuvillette’s waist and hold him there. not roughly, but fully, trapping him in place with a grip that speaks more of longing than anything else. meanwhile his breath catches at the closeness, a hitch low in his throat as he cranes his neck to pant beside neuvillette’s flushed ear. when he speaks, it comes out low, threaded with a deep-throated churr that betrays both urgency and devotion. ]
Stop hesitating.
[ his hand glides along the line of neuvillette’s waistband before slipping beneath the fabric, his palm warm as it settles against the small of his back, guiding the other into meeting his hips rather than demanding it. ]
You’re here because I need you. [ the words are punctuated with a gentle nip at neuvillette’s ear, followed by the slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, a contrast to the ache curling in his voice. ] Because I want you.
( he has never heard wriothesley speaking like that before. it's lower, rougher, and the heat of his tongue makes him shudder with unbridled want, finally spilling from the last vestiges of self-control he had in place.
the warmth of both thighs wrapped around him is vivid, but too far away, absolutely too far; and with some degree of impatience, he shrugs off his heavy coat and divests himself of his waistcoat and jabot, setting them aside with as much care as his flustered, eager self can muster right now. the dress shirt is the next to go, as is his belt, answering wriothesley's longing with his own.
he steals another kiss, and one more, greedily memorizing the taste of him, the heat of his kiss, and the echo of his words. he is needed, he is wanted, and not just because of the oncoming moon that pulls upon his very nature as surely as the tides. neuvillette understands, and he allows himself to melt under his touch, his own hands coming to slide up under wriothesley's shirt to smooth over the fuzz and the heat of his skin. wriothesley burns, and neuvillette all but burns with him, grinding down on his hips with a low, shaky groan. )
And I came, because I felt the same. Wriothesley —
( he craves every touch, every scrap of affection he can siphon from wriothesley, and his lips trail, heated and wanting, from his lips to his chin and down one of the ragged scars just off the center of his throat. he nuzzles the scar tissue, fingers coming to loosen and undo the leather cords that twine around his neck. wriothesley has made his intentions clear, and neuvillette cannot find it in himself to deny him (and himself) any longer. )
Your shirt. ( he musters, when the cords fall away and his hands busy themselves with tugging said shirt off of his head. )
[ there’s something in the way neuvillette moves with haste to strip himself of his normal dress and uniform, yet still takes the time to set each piece neatly aside. ever the creature of habit, though wriothesley hardly faults him—centuries spent beneath the mantle of iudex are difficult patterns to shed. so of course the uniform lingers in his hands, and yet it gives wriothesley a few ideas about what sort of casual wear might better suit him now. but it's quickly a distant thought when the snap of a belt stirs wriothesley out of his musings
he watches the whole thing with a heavy‑lidded gaze and a lazy smile, and when neuvillette crosses the distance again—bare, cold, and already reaching—wriothesley wraps him in a firm, grounding embrace. the fervor of another heated kiss and fingers slipping beneath his shirt, draws a short‑winded laugh before he leans in to swallow the groan that spills when their clothed cocks press together. ]
Now that wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?
[ the words drift out casually, spoken more to the air than anything, but he watches closely as neuvillette focuses on drawing every sound from him. wriothesley gasps when a chilled touch brushes across the scar tissue at his throat—still sensitive—and bucks his hips more insistently when cold palms wander beneath his shirt and seem pleased with what they find.
bit by bit, neuvillette coaxes the rest of his clothes away. but wriothesley, unlike him, treats his own garments with little care. by hastily shoving his bindings and rumpled shirt aside to make way before pushing neuvillette down onto the bed in one practiced, decisive motion—flipping their positions without losing a breath. ]
And your pants next.
[ it’s his turn to loom over the other man, chuffed and openly pleased despite the feverish blush that spreads from the square of his chest to his features. corruption has brought its fair share of changes over the months—with twitching wolf ears, a restless wagging tail brushing against neuvillette’s shins, added height and bulk, fur trimmed neatly across his chest and tapering down past the waistband of his shorts—but right now, it’s the difference warmth between them that undoes him.
neuvillette’s body holds a cold that sinks deep, unmistakable now that he’s shed his layers. the kind of cold-blooded chill that makes warmth a necessity. wriothesley feels the way the other leans into his heat—instinctively, greedily—and something in him answers, low and possessive.
he bends to kiss along neuviliette’s clavicle, then down the curve of his torso, drinking in the contrast of heat meeting chill. each place he touches gradually warms under his mouth, and the sight of neuvillette melting from the inside out claws at something primal in him. amidst the attention, clawed hands find the buckles of neuviliette’s spats and yank them open one by one. a soft prayer of mine slip from him between claiming bites and scent-marking nuzzles, each one pressed reverently into slowly warming skin.
it satisfies wriothesley on a level deeper than reason—to be the one who can heat neuviliette through touch alone, to be the answer to that instinctive cold. and by the time the last clasp comes undone, he’s half-wild with it, steadiness stretched thin beneath the urge to claim.
still, he manages a touch of playfulness. barely. he hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband of neuviliette’s pants, easing them just past the dip of his hips before lifting his head with a stare gone dark and hungry. ]
Let me have you. [ then he lowers his mouth and breathes hot over the still‑clothed bulge of neuviliette’s cock before mouthing wetly against it—heat meeting cold in a way that makes instinct shudder through both of them. ] Let me burn for you.
( that's a whole new thing to think about — casualwear befitting an augmented in a brand new world, and not the chief justice of fontaine. but that is probably something best explored with a wriothesley in less sexually-charged encounters. right now, all neuvillette is thinking about is how charmingly sexy the duke looks when his gaze is fixed on him like that. there is a raw, smoky sensuality to wriothesley that he's allowing himself to uncover and enjoy, riling up age-old instincts he had deliberately kept under wraps.
now, there is nothing holding him back from staking his claim on his finest prize. wriothesley, who is so full of surprises that he only belatedly realizes how he has now been pinned to the bed, breath momentarily knocked out of him. he's looking up at him with wonder and ravenous hunger both, roiling hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach.
he melts, sinking into the raw, glorious sensation of wriothesley's hands and mouth on his body, arching up to chase every kiss, to invite him to brand himself upon his skin, his soul, his mind. the dragon can't help a low rumble deep, deep down in his chest, possessiveness awakening and threatening to overwhelm his better senses. )
Yes. Yes. ( he groans, trembling with the heat of his mouth against his cocks, neuvillette grinds up into him only to nudge him away with a low, pleased little groan. he lifts his legs for him, shimmying out of his pants and kicking off his spats with a carelessness that will absolutely mortify him when he regains his senses. once he's fully naked, twin cocks half hard and plump with arousal, he sits up to set himself up on display just for him. he wears those nips and bites proudly, warmed up by wriothesley's tender worship. ) You have all of me, Your Grace. ( a touch of mischief, steeped in heat and longing.
gracefully, his cool hands come to splay over his fur-trimmed chest, cupping the swell of his pecs and gently squeezing, sliding his hands down to the fuzz of his treasure trail. )
You've groomed yourself, I see. ( he just about purrs. his pants are in the way, and neuvillette doesn't hesitate to push them off, off his hips, urging him out of them and letting his cock spring free. look at that, thick and full, engorged and flushed dark with arousal amidst a thick thatch of pubic curls that makes his mouth water.
neuvillette's own hunger intensifies, his hand coming to curl around the base of his shaft, thumbing along the thick veins. how the look in wriothesley's eyes thrills him, makes him more than half-wild as well: ) But I love when you are unbridled, like this. I will have you first.
( whoops, the dragon has him pinned down on the bed now, admiring that new height and thickness, that extra meat and muscle on this man. ) I'm going to take you, while you are still present with me. I want you to remember who is claiming you.
[ 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. ]
Oh, I do. ( a breathless, pleased proclamation of what he likes — and to know that wriothesley will take pains to keep it up just for him has him warm with delight and anticipation. in all of his years of spending time with wriothesley, neuvillette had carefully avoided thinking about him in less than decent ways: it will not do to desecrate his special, personal relationship with the duke of meropide so, especially when is the chief justice, whose sole duty is impartiality for the sake of fontaine's people.
but here and now, there are many new developments that unfurl, and one of them is the privilege of hearing wriothesley's frank confessions, to speak of his own growing feelings for the duke freely, and to have the reins slip from his need to constantly be proper. the hunger in neuvillette's eyes is obvious when he watches the young man grips the barrel of his cock with that hand, watching the thick shaft jutting so proudly in his hand.
he ought to be the one touching it, to take it into his mouth and watch him unravel as he suckles every drop from the heavy, taut balls that hang underneath his cock. wriothesley truly is a magnificent specimen of a man, and an enthralled neuvillette admires him and how his body is flushed with arousal, almost burning with it. he stretches languidly, showing off the bruises he knows are forming, and he allows his fingers to slick up with hydro-lubricant, slippery and copious, only to gently push one finger into the puckered rim of his hole, easing the tight muscle to go deeper. )
Maybe this will help.
( emboldened with lust, neuvillette bats his hand away from his cock with his own, his own gaze glittering. in another swift move, he hitches both his thighs up to his shoulders, pulling him upward so he can press his nose to his taint and feel the tickle of his pubes. deep breath, so he can memorize that heady, manly musk, and feel his cock and balls bounce. his finger goes in deep in a single stroke, and the burning heat of that sheath around him makes his cocks twitch against the other man's lower back. )
[ it's not surprising to slowly come to learn neuvillette's fancies as they inch further into intimacy. it's far too easy—for everyone, and the two of them included—to reduce the iudex to an impartial and untouchable figure, far above entanglements and whims. somethingso wholly human that it ought to be an oddity to vishaps, dragons, and sovereigns to even entertain. and yet, it's maddeningly interesting to see what actually gets neuvillette heated under the collar.
and while wriothesley tries not to give him trouble under normal circumstances, he’s just the same: finding his own caprices alongside neuvillette, unearthing desires that have been long since buried and stifled. he's hardly shy about diving headfirst into indulging his want now when neuvillette makes it so very easy. espeically knowing any bit of affection and tenderness wriothesley is willing to show, neuvillette accepts it with the same about of care.
so when neuvillette sounds particularly tantalized at the sight and feel of the soft rise of hair across his chest—and at how that line trails downward to where wriothesley’s hand now works himself over—he gives the former iudex a performance of how he likes to be touched. the drag of fingers across the sensitive skin below the head, a rough squeeze and caress along the length of his shaft—the show continues even as he eyes the hydro gathering on neuvillette’s fingers. ]
You know I'll always appreciate any reminders.
[ it’s all he manages to breathe out with a small, lopsided smile before neuvillette gently eases the tight ring of muscle open to work a long, slender finger inside him. the intrusion pulls an unsteady rise and fall from his chest, followed by a soft groan; and soon enough, the rhythm of his own strokes matches the push and pull of neuvillette’s fingers.
he’d be content to keep that pace—until neuvillette sharply withdraws, leaving him bereft enough to voice a disappointed sound. there’s barely time to recover before he’s hauled upward, knees hooking over neuvillette’s shoulders. and instinct tenses his muscles to help hold himself there, but another instinct drives his hips up the moment neuvillette leans in to relish every bit of skin between his legs.
the sudden rough press of neuvillette’s finger inside him again nets a helpless groan. his nails scrape lightly along neuvillette’s knees before he drags his heels against the expanse of the other's back, urging him closer and deeper. he huffs a breath into the air; from here he’s not above asking for neuvillette’s cock outright, but part of him suspects that’s exactly what neuvillette's is expecting. better to play to neuvillette’s whims and see where that gets him, so he voices out—strained: ]
Feel free to add more if you’d like.
[ the rise of neuvillette's cocks at the small of his back draws the attention of his tail as it excitedly sways between the other's legs, alongside the tips of his wolf ears twitching in anticipation. ]
( neuvillette instructs after a moment. he can sense the way wriothesley's walls crumble, and how he clings to the crumbs of resistance, to hold on to the flawless veneer of the duke, and the man who has always carved out his own path without needing to ask for anything. or perhaps it's just that the few times wriothesley had, they had all been coldly ignored. but enough of maudlin thoughts; neuvillette's nosing against his scrotum affectionately, taking his balls in his mouth to lave his tongue over them.
it's languid, erotic, a demonstration of how he adores this man and how easy it is to want to worship him with every fiber of his being. smiling faintly at the excited swish of his tail, neuvillette grinds into him with a soft murmur of approval, nosing along the base of his cock. the weight and shape of his balls in his mouth is incredible, and neuvillette, breathing him in, keeps his finger buried in his ass, fucking him with deliberate slowness.
ask, and it will be given to him. neuvillette wants to show him a whole new way of being, to smooth over old wounds they have never spoken about. letting go of his balls eventually, he lets him down so that he can comfortably cradle him between his thighs again. licking his lips, as if chasing the taste and scent of him, he sinks that finger deep. )
[ it had been difficult at first: to even want to fall into desire. he’d been extremely cautious upon arrival, having learned that imprinting among the augmented was less about sincere attachment and more a coping mechanism or tool—a balm against whatever patho-gen had done to each of them. opening up enough for a brief touch here and there had seemed like enough to get by, until it frankly wasn’t, not after nearly tearing the harbinger in two and carelessly getting swept up in his natural soul’s urges. it’s not the clean-cut nor perfect picture of closeness he once imagined for himself, but nothing taken for oneself ever goes right the first time. so there’s no harm in figuring it out with neuvillette.
and judging by the way neuvillette matches his banter with that particular command, encourages him to want more with the lavish drag of his tongue over cock and balls, and how that slicked finger insistently works him open—he knows he’s close to losing the last of his composure. every time he clenches down on that digit, he keens for more. though it’s hard to keep his back arched, seeking to work neuvillette's finger deeper even as his joints threaten to click from the strain; neuvillette gives him mercy. gently guides him back down onto the bed, lets him settle in the cradle of his hips, and greedily takes in the sight of him writhing in the sheets. his tail’s lightly pinned between them, already curling around neuvillette’s cocks, and slowly mussed from the precome staining its fur.
but with better purchase against the sheets, wriothesley moans and begins to fuck himself eagerly on that finger. and for a while, it scratches that itch his natural soul keeps chasing for. although when the pleasure plateaus—steady and maddening—as neuvillette deliberately avoids the bundle of nerves, wriothesley tries in vain to work his hips harder against the other's hand. it leaves him wound tight, exasperated, and he groans as his hands slip from neuvillette’s knees to twist into the sheets. ]
Please— [ he’s caught between himself and the rising heat that rises to his features the longer they draw this out. and after a few panting breaths to right himself, he continues; voice strained, wet with want. ] Please spread me open. On your fingers first—then your cock.
[ while he’s still present, while he’s still mostly sane—just as they both promised between them. so he swallows, thrusts once more with a broken moan, and finishes with quiet conviction. ]
( imprinting and the phenomenon of pair bonding is a desecration of what is natural; to bond with someone to survive is to muddy up the waters of human intimacy and affection. what can there be that is pure, faultless, and all based on emotion and not the need to survive?
this is why neuvillette does what he does, to remind wriothesley that what he feels for him goes beyond the confines of karteria's laws, that the progression of their feelings lie not in the urgency of imprinting and bonding, but something else.
the yoke of their duties have fallen off of them if only for awhile in here, and neuvillette can't help but admire the way wriothesley lays back in the sheets, fucking himself eagerly to little avail. he won't let him get satisfaction just yet, even if every sweet suck of his hole around his finger threatens to overwhelm him. he pushes a second finger in, nice and slow, stretching him out further and crooking his fingers within him to rub against his walls.
wriothesley's cheeks are flushed, his exasperation sweet like honey — how can neuvillette resist him when he begs that that, every filthy word spilling from kiss-bruised lips? he croons a low, humming praise before he leans over him to kiss him again, wanting the younger man to know that this is the highest form of intimacy, of what they can give each other before their natural souls take over. this is what can be trusted.
when he hears that he wants both at the same time, neuvillette shakes his head, words hot against his mouth. )
Not yet. One, first. Two will break you.
( the third finger, slippery, slick, fingertips lightly brushing over his prostate to tease. ) Do you like how this feels? You're sucking me inside so greedily, it's hard to move...
[ it's a nice, brief dismantling of everything either patho-gen or life in karteria has wrought upon him—if only for a moment. just that flicker of awareness is enough to start untangling the threads long woven into his idea of affection since arriving, a sentiment now that he carries that may even edge into love. it takes considerable effort to dig past the wave of calm the imprint brings, to deaden the raw instinct to rut with any warm body—until he finds the scent and feel of neuvillette. and in that, there is bliss.
the pitch of his hips takes on a different speed once wriothesley tethers himself to neuvillette’s rhythm. the way he fucks himself on one, then two fingers turns less frenetic and more focused. it’s easier, then, to reach out and drape his arms across the breadth of neuvillette’s shoulders—to coax him closer, to offer up each moan and sigh with tender clarity under the weight of neuvillette’s care. even when neuvillette draws back a scant inch to steady him, to remind him of where he belongs—beside him, here and now—there’s nothing but a soft whine and a quiet nod in return.
whether he’s nodding to the kind warning or answering a question is hard to say. because when the third finger joins the rest, and the kiss he leaves turns open-mouthed and keen against neuvillette’s tongue, wriothesley arches—dead set on chasing that exquisite pressure. enough that his muscles begin to tremble and his hips stutter, desperate to commit the feeling to memory. ]
Yes. Yes.
[ the second 'yes' is drawn out in earnest, as if in agreement. the third utterance comes softer, beseeching. and what follows is near a whisper—a litany of 'yeses' that dissolve into a lovely and unrestrained sound. it isn’t until he remembers he’s still half-hanging off the other that he leans in again, chasing another kiss with mumbled noises shaped vaguely into a name. ]
Neuvillette... I want you inside. As deep as you’ll go.
( wriothesley bids him closer, and neuvillette yields with ease and eagerness, pressing up against him intimately as his lips explore the scars of his neck, the line of his jaw and the shine of his earring. he smiles against the sweetness of his begging, licking and nipping.
he takes in a deep breath of him, sucking a lovebite on the soft skin behind his ear, then another, crooning warm praise in a low, approving rumble. wriothesley is blossoming to life under him, and the growing honesty and vulnerability of his needs. neuvillette indulges, infinitely tender and giving, pressing deep inside of him with every stroke, fingertips rubbing against the squeeze of his warm, slippery walls.
he's grinding his cocks up against his warm belly with a low groan, smearing streaks of pre-cum along the flat of it, marking his territory and reminding him of who he belongs to. grasping one hand, neuvillette guides him to both shafts, encouraging him to touch, to feel, to know how aroused he is for him, how he is needed. )
I will, I promise. ( he lets go of his hand only to guide wriothesley's straining cock against both of his as well, indulging in another greedy kiss. the fingers inside him reach deeper, stretching him wider. ) Let me enjoy you like this first. I have craved you like this the moment I kissed you.
[ looking for an opening to smother neuvillette in return, with the same sort of attention, is undeniably difficult. as his focus is pulled in different directions—from the meticulous stretch and stroke of three fingers working his channel, to the mumbled praises that make him gently writhe once the words fully sink in, to the gasp he doesn't bother hiding when his wolf ear twitches erratically before brushing across neuvillette’s cheek. amidst the haze, it’s hard to find a way in, but neuvillette seems intent on wearing him down until he’s completely softened and pliant beneath the other. and wriothesley doesn't have it in himself to keep fighting against it any longer.
it’s telling, the way any resistance—and much of the fight—bleeds out of his frame with a few more moans. and now, now that he’s allowed to channel a bit of his excitement under neuvillette’s instruction, it’s no surprise that both hands slip between them to stroke and caress neuvillette’s draconian cocks. and sure, he’s invited into working his own erection into the mess, but he still lifts his head with a glassy stare—more preoccupied with admiring neuvillette’s lengths instead.
his expression is an open book: the way he hums while curling his palm over the fatter, thicker cock; the way his mouth moves silently, as if contemplating how to suck each if and when given the chance; and the way he wantonly fixes his gaze upward towards neuvillette—pupils blown wide, and teeth flashing faintly as he nips his bottom lip while calloused fingers tease each ridge. he's curtained some by neuvillette's loose hair, and that spurs him on to being a little more obvious in his arousal. ]
Only since then? [ his voice sounds small and lost, but surprisingly raw and open. there’s hardly any of his usual filters left with his thoughts as he happily keeps himself busy stroking neuvillette. ] I’ve wanted this from you for a long while. Years.
[ he still has the mind to keep working himself open on neuvillette’s fingers, clumsily thrusting against the other’s cocks—but it’s all secondary now. what matters is the feel of neuvillette hardening in his hands and how good that feels to be the reason for it. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
YOURE BARELY 24 HRS INTO THIS GAME AND WE'RE ALREADY HERE
which makes thinking up an equally ‘normal’ response a touch harder, though it gives him something to focus on. there’s no need to dress it up too much, so he lets out a short, barked laugh before continuing. ]
Truth be told, I'm sort of at a loss for how to word it all—but try and bear with me for a moment.
[ there's a low hum on his end. ]
Our last conversation. At the Valentia, when we talked about the changes with my soul. Well, what’s bound to happen tonight is... definitely one of them.
NO REGRETS
to hear the duke's admission of being at a loss is a novel thing, too; the man is shrewd and quick on his feet, but perhaps the entire experience of being trapped within karteria brings with it a host of new issues they haven't yet foreseen. neuvillette dreads having to experience the eventuality of it for himself, and appreciates the courage it takes for the wriothesley to admit that he needs help. )
Of course. ( he says, because that why he sounds like that, like he's readying himself for a difficult conversation. he shifts, his own concern for him overriding everything else. ) How may I help?
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Your help depends on how involved you’d like to be in this. But to put it plainly, I’ll be craving companionship [ no use in dancing around it, though he tries to speak plainly and with a thread of poise—something to anchor himself with, so it still feels like a choice rather than surrender. ] My soul doesn’t rightly care who I share it with, but I’d still like to have some say in the matter.
[ his tone dulls a touch with that last admission, but he doesn’t delve into whether he’s already entertained the alternative. ]
If everything goes well, having you nearby should be enough. But I can’t make any promises it’ll stay that chaste. [ there’s a pause—weighted, but brief. just enough time for the warning to settle, not long enough for neuvillette to cut in just yet. ] So if you don’t mind the risk of me being out of sorts for the night… then I’d like for you to come over. Since if I’m bound to lose myself for a while, I’d rather it be with you than anyone else.
[ he already knows what it’s like to let that impulse take the reins entirely, and he’d rather not make it a habit of filling that space with just any warm, willing body. love and intimacy should be warm—anchored—not easy or fleeting, not just a way to scratch the surface of something deeper either. last month had been all jagged dissonance, all instinct and white noise. but now that he’s grounded, aware, and clearer on what he wants—he trusts neuvillette to hold him through it without fear. ]
no subject
wriothesley chooses him because he wants to, because more than trust, there are the seeds of something deeper that they have never had the chance to explore back in teyvat, when the prophecy loomed above them like a death sentence. no, karteria is where wriothesley first broaches the subject, and neuvillette knows how much it takes out of him to tell him that he craves companionship, that intimacy is on the table, and that any notions of chastity ought to be set aside.
neuvillette, who prides himself on propriety and a certain measure of gallantry, shifts. he is unused to this, unversed in such a situation, but he must do what he can to alleviate wriothesley's worries, to be worthy of the weight of his trust. but more than that... more than trust lies something far deeper and layered, something neuvillette has allowed himself to think about in his most private moments. intimacy with wriothesley, to protect and hold him not out of obligation, but out of affection and desire, of the love that wriothesley has never had even as a child.
he feels his heart skip a beat, his own ache of quiet yearning, yet unshaped but very much present. here, there are no melusines to be their buffer (not that he wants them to, for something as important as this). here, neuvillette has to breach the distance himself.
suddenly, for all of this advance in technology, wriothesley feels so, so very far away. )
I should like to come over now. Will you see me?
( he asks at last, low and soft, his request gentle as the last of the summer wind. the rest of this conversation should be continued in person, and wriothesley should not be the only one making this request, not when neuvillette finds himself eagerly reciprocating. he wants to make him comfortable, to show him that he is not another task to be accomplished: wriothesley deserves the care and closeness he has so rarely been shown, to be eased into it and comforted. love, indeed, should be warm. )
no subject
yet life in karteria has a way of dragging certain feelings to the surface—raw and exposed like a shorn nerve. but even so, it's still sincere. not posturing, not performative. ironically, it’s a kind of pressure wriothesley has grown accustomed to after over a decade spent in a broken fortress as an inmate. neuvillette, on the other hand, isn’t someone who’s often had to sit face-to-face with that kind of stressor or emotional burden. but wriothesley’s worries ease the moment neuvillette hears him out fully and responds with that steady, unmistakable kindness of his. it’s the simplicity of his reply that tells wriothesley he understands—the weight of the situation, and the intent behind the ask. ]
Of course. You're always welcome here, Neuvillette.
[ it’s an honest invitation—one he could never voice back in fontaine, or at least not outright. not while he still wears the titles of duke and warden. and yet, for all the urgency behind it, the words hold steady, sincere. there’s no need to repeat them. and in the background, there’s the soft shuffle of movement as he tries to tidy up the place, at least a little. ]
The front door will be unlocked by the time you arrive, so feel free to let yourself in. I’ll see if I can sleep away some of this fever in the meantime.
[ fortunately, they both know the route well—the walk from the valentia to wriothesley’s new apartment by the coast isn’t long. since most of the furnishings were chosen with neuvillette’s help; the space is modest, but respectable, and more than livable despite a few still-empty rooms.
true to his word, wriothesley takes a page from sigewinne’s playbook and tries to sleep through the worst of the heat. she’d probably be proud that some of her advice has stuck after all this time. meanwhile propriety makes a brief appearance in how he tries to dress properly, but wriothesley gives up quickly. it’s far too warm under the sheets. in the end, he dozes off in a loose shirt and shorts, tail freed from the blankets for air, ears flattened in a quiet bid for comfort. ]
no subject
neuvillette is still figuring out the subtleties of such an entanglement, the ramification of it and what it means to be summoned so easily to his side. this time, the primordial sea is out of the picture, and perhaps an argument can be made that the safety of karteria's citizens are of utmost concern, and therefore wriothesley's continued well-being is crucial, but he cannot bring himself to believe it. wriothesley's well-being matters to him, first.
he makes his way to wriothesley's apartment and lets himself in quietly, locking the door behind him. the place is cozy, silent, and unmistakably wriothesley's, even if it's nowhere as spartan as when he had first visited it. he seeks him out and finds him quickly enough, a sleeping, vulnerable man with his tail on full display, ears flattened as if seeking warmth, something, someone.
neuvillette doesn't hesitate, seating himself very gently on the edge of the bed beside him, a large bottle of purified water set on the nightstand just for him. his gloves are the next to be divested, set aside neatly by the bottle. his hand comes to curl in that messy mop of dark hair, stroking those flattened ears. he offers the comfort that wriothesley seeks, tender and unhurried. his thumb smooths over the outline of it, fingers massaging the base.
there, there. he's here. there's nothing for him to worry about. )
no subject
he unconsciously seeks the imprint through proximity, craning slightly to tilt his head into neuvillette’s bare and warm hand. where one of his ears twitches against the other’s fingers, and even half-asleep, wriothesley still has the presence of mind to brush the back of his hand over his cheek, trying to gauge the worst of the heat that's settled into his features. ]
Hey— [ he manages with a croaked laugh, hoarse but good-humored given the state of him. ] I'm glad you got here without much trouble.
[ the hand at his face turns to roughly rub at his eyes before blinking more awake. and with a softened look of his own, he rests that hand atop neuvillette’s thigh. ]
Thanks for helping me out with this, Neuvillette. I'll do my best to behave while I'm still all here.
no subject
( the cold is setting in, and neuvillette feels a little more sluggish than he'd expected, and as eager as wriothesley is in seeking out touch and calm, neuvillette finds his natural soul's instincts gravitating toward the younger man's natural body heat. he seeks him out with a yearning that startles even him, and he can't help but find himself caught on the softness of wriothesley's just-awakened look, helplessly drawn to the soft vulnerability that he has never seen on him.
no, this is wriothesley before all of his defence mechanisms kick in, so young and so open, and he forgets to breathe for a moment.
perhaps it's the effect of the imprinting, pleasant and warm like honey in his veins, warming up corners of himself that he didn't realize were bereft. or perhaps it's just wriothesley, with his hand on his thigh. his hand comes to rest on his cheek, thumb subconsciously smoothing over his bottom lip as he speaks.
warmth, softness. all these things neuvillette has never realized he wanted up until now. )
You don't have to do anything else but be at ease, Wriothesley. ( he tells him softly. ) I came because I wished to. The thought of you being alone and in profound discomfort is... unacceptable to me.
( but he has more he wants to say, so much more he needs to blurt out. ) I understand that you reached out to me because you wanted a choice despite your circumstances, and I, too, hope to make a choice, if you are willing and open.
( so it doesn't have to be forced, so that this can be their way of taking control, together. he takes a breath, and decides to just be honest, because there is no way to lead into this normally when none of what is happening to them is normal: )
I should like to kiss you, while you are still all here.
no subject
it might be unwise to hold the former chief justice in such high regard, but wriothesley knows that neuvillette is unfailingly honest if nothing else. even if they're both still trying to make sense of it all, he wants to offer neuvillette the same certainty he’s been given since the other's arrival—especially in a world and system where so much remains unpredictable.
and so he keeps looking up at neuvillette as he speaks, tilting his chin slightly to rest his cheek further into the other's hand, and letting his lips lightly brush against the pad of his thumb. ]
Now what was it I first said to you, when we crossed paths here? [ there's a grunt as wriothesley shifts, the bed dipping under his weight when he sits up with a cheeky grin, despite the lingering flush on his skin. ] My hero.
[ he takes neuvillette’s words far too seriously for a moment, to be more of himself, just enough to ease some of the tension in the air. but it’s well meant in the way he leans close—foregoing his usual preference for space and formality to show something more vulnerable. something disheveled in his current state, but nevertheless sincere. ]
I appreciate you seeing my plea for help as something more than just a worry to tend to, Neuvillette. You’ve always had a sense for the emotions behind the choices I make, even when I try to keep them hidden. But that’s something I’ve come to respect as well as cherish in you.
[ the earlier grin softens as he speaks while the hand that had rested on neuvillette’s thigh slips into the space between them, if only to brace himself as he leans into the other's shoulder. ]
I can already hear the gears turning in your head, especially in trying to make this all proper. But for what it's worth, you’ve made this one of the easiest confessions one can accept.
[ there’s no grand gesture to it—just wriothesley, straightforward and without the usual masks, pressing a quiet kiss against neuvillette’s bottom lip. it’s meant to be chaste, but the familiar scent of passing rain lingering on the other pulls something deeper from him. his tongue brushes the seam of neuvillette’s mouth before the kiss deepens, though he draws back before either of them are swept too far into it. and in the way wriothesley pulls back, he looks faintly breathless, but pleased in the way his ears excitedly twitch. ]
So? Was it worth the effort of coming here?
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my hero, he says, and neuvillette feels the tips of his ears turn pink, intensifying when he leans forward so boldly to press his lips to his. neuvillette had asked, and wriothesley has so willingly given, the warmth of his lips chasing all coherent thought from his mind. warm, soft; the swipe of the duke's tongue is sensuous, and he parts his lips to invite him in, deepening the kiss.
neuvillette shifts forward, tongue lightly touching his and savoring the taste of him before he —
— wriothesley's pulling away, and without thinking, the dragon gives chase, lavender eyes dark and focused with the singular desire for more. he barely registers the question, the endearing twitch of his ears, his hungry gaze flicking down to his lips, to those flushed cheeks and ears, then back down to his lips again. he has been given a taste of him, divine and exhilarating. instead of responding, however, neuvillette only lunges forward, a hand cupping the back of wriothesley's head to keep him cradled, and sealing his lips to his again.
this time, words will not do. he's the one who seeks access, to taste and tangle and memorize him for himself. )
the real cw: old man yaoi starts here
then comes the pause, subtle but arresting, when wriothesley draws back first. and neuvillette leans in—not forceful, but enough to chase the space between them—and the seconds stretch taut after that. wriothesley finds himself staring, almost pinned by lilac eyes now sharpened with something else. something searching. there's a hunger there, just beneath the surface, in the way neuvillette’s gaze traces his face. meanwhile self-awareness flickers to life under the weight of it, and wriothesley exhales the other's name before he thinks better of it. ]
Neuv—?
[ the name barely escapes before neuvillette meets his mouth with his own. the motion is sudden but not unkind, and wriothesley reacts on instinct—hands working to steady them both so they don’t fall back onto the bed outright. and outside of that brief catch, neuvillette swallows the faint gasp that follows as their mouths part and reconnect, tongues brushing in a slow and probing press.
it’s dizzying, not because it’s rushed but because of the intent behind it—an outpouring that feels almost too much to hold, but never careless. neuvillette settles against him, and every stroke of tongue is careful at first; a test, and wriothesley responds with soft sounds each time it brushes just right. gradually, the rhythm changes. becomes familiar. and the tension wound tight in his shoulders eases before giving way to trust. from there, awareness returns in pieces: the sudden give of the mattress at his back, the shift of neuvillette’s breath and weight above him, the way the room seems to hold still for them.
somewhere between the drag of the covers and the soft click of teeth, wriothesley leans in fully, answering need with his own. his tail moves of its own accord, flicking once then twice, a clear signal of how far he’s let himself go. where every pause to breathe turns into low murmurs—quiet, reverent—and every return to touch feels heavier. he reaches blindly, palms splayed in search of bare skin, but neuvillette's layers and the creeping edge of corruption make it difficult. still, he tries. and when his fingers finally find skin, it's cold—unmistakably so due to the other's reptilia soul, a contrast made sharper by the winter air around them. ]
Neuvillette.
[ he says it again, the name slipping out with a different cadence this time—lower, laced with an edge. it’s still early in the day, but he can’t quite tell if it’s the first flicker of heat waking beneath his skin, or just the echo of the imprint blooming stronger between them. maybe it’s both. maybe this is what it feels like when fondness stops hiding. before his hips move of their own volition, rutting up gently against neuvillette's leg, and the next time he says the other's name, it breaks on a low moan. ]
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the simmer of want, the edge of yearning surprises him, as does the way he's practically pushing him down on the mattress, eyes dark. he is too clothed and too cold at the same time, and he makes a soft noise, urging wriothesley to find him, to touch him despite all these frustrating layers. when they find skin, he jumps a little, startled by the blossom of pleasure that unfurls in his chest.
he's not entirely sure it's just the imprinting, not when his heart races at the low, velvet murmur of his name on his tongue. it's different, wanting, and the pace of wriothesley's heart twines with his own. he can feel those hips up against his, too, the heat of him far too inviting for neuvillette to resist, the moan going right down to his newly-awakened libido. he kisses him again before breaking it quickly, pressing his cheek to his as he fights to maintain control of himself, his hand tightening on wriothesley's hip. )
Tell me to stop.
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he’d been honest from the start, had warned neuvillette that his heat would lead them somewhere that defied every boundary of propriety. yet even so, he hadn’t invited neuvillette into his space simply to satisfy a nagging instinct. what burns between them is real, has been for years, and the time in karteria has only forced those feelings to the surface—ripping past every hesitation, every carefully placed wall, until only the truth remained. and now, wriothesley is far beyond the point of letting doubt or decorum keep him from tasting the warmth he’s long denied himself. with the imprint and peculiarities of his soul making it all the more easier to wholly accept.
it’s a mercy, really, that neuvillette takes a moment to pause and gather himself, though it does little to steady the heat between them. wriothesley uses the break to slip his hands through the carefully arranged layers of neuvillette’s clothes, each motion deliberate, his touch growing more insistent with each passing second. when he finally finds the hem of the other’s dress shirt, his fingers roughly twist and pull until it comes loose, giving him just enough space to lay his palm flat before running his heated touch against the new and uncharted terrain of neuvillette’s back.
there’s little room to work with beneath the elegant lines of neuvillette's usual attire—nothing short of simply tearing it away—but there’s enough give to thread his arms around neuvillette’s waist and hold him there. not roughly, but fully, trapping him in place with a grip that speaks more of longing than anything else. meanwhile his breath catches at the closeness, a hitch low in his throat as he cranes his neck to pant beside neuvillette’s flushed ear. when he speaks, it comes out low, threaded with a deep-throated churr that betrays both urgency and devotion. ]
Stop hesitating.
[ his hand glides along the line of neuvillette’s waistband before slipping beneath the fabric, his palm warm as it settles against the small of his back, guiding the other into meeting his hips rather than demanding it. ]
You’re here because I need you. [ the words are punctuated with a gentle nip at neuvillette’s ear, followed by the slow, deliberate drag of his tongue, a contrast to the ache curling in his voice. ] Because I want you.
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the warmth of both thighs wrapped around him is vivid, but too far away, absolutely too far; and with some degree of impatience, he shrugs off his heavy coat and divests himself of his waistcoat and jabot, setting them aside with as much care as his flustered, eager self can muster right now. the dress shirt is the next to go, as is his belt, answering wriothesley's longing with his own.
he steals another kiss, and one more, greedily memorizing the taste of him, the heat of his kiss, and the echo of his words. he is needed, he is wanted, and not just because of the oncoming moon that pulls upon his very nature as surely as the tides. neuvillette understands, and he allows himself to melt under his touch, his own hands coming to slide up under wriothesley's shirt to smooth over the fuzz and the heat of his skin. wriothesley burns, and neuvillette all but burns with him, grinding down on his hips with a low, shaky groan. )
And I came, because I felt the same. Wriothesley —
( he craves every touch, every scrap of affection he can siphon from wriothesley, and his lips trail, heated and wanting, from his lips to his chin and down one of the ragged scars just off the center of his throat. he nuzzles the scar tissue, fingers coming to loosen and undo the leather cords that twine around his neck. wriothesley has made his intentions clear, and neuvillette cannot find it in himself to deny him (and himself) any longer. )
Your shirt. ( he musters, when the cords fall away and his hands busy themselves with tugging said shirt off of his head. )
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he watches the whole thing with a heavy‑lidded gaze and a lazy smile, and when neuvillette crosses the distance again—bare, cold, and already reaching—wriothesley wraps him in a firm, grounding embrace. the fervor of another heated kiss and fingers slipping beneath his shirt, draws a short‑winded laugh before he leans in to swallow the groan that spills when their clothed cocks press together. ]
Now that wasn’t so hard to admit, was it?
[ the words drift out casually, spoken more to the air than anything, but he watches closely as neuvillette focuses on drawing every sound from him. wriothesley gasps when a chilled touch brushes across the scar tissue at his throat—still sensitive—and bucks his hips more insistently when cold palms wander beneath his shirt and seem pleased with what they find.
bit by bit, neuvillette coaxes the rest of his clothes away. but wriothesley, unlike him, treats his own garments with little care. by hastily shoving his bindings and rumpled shirt aside to make way before pushing neuvillette down onto the bed in one practiced, decisive motion—flipping their positions without losing a breath. ]
And your pants next.
[ it’s his turn to loom over the other man, chuffed and openly pleased despite the feverish blush that spreads from the square of his chest to his features. corruption has brought its fair share of changes over the months—with twitching wolf ears, a restless wagging tail brushing against neuvillette’s shins, added height and bulk, fur trimmed neatly across his chest and tapering down past the waistband of his shorts—but right now, it’s the difference warmth between them that undoes him.
neuvillette’s body holds a cold that sinks deep, unmistakable now that he’s shed his layers. the kind of cold-blooded chill that makes warmth a necessity. wriothesley feels the way the other leans into his heat—instinctively, greedily—and something in him answers, low and possessive.
he bends to kiss along neuviliette’s clavicle, then down the curve of his torso, drinking in the contrast of heat meeting chill. each place he touches gradually warms under his mouth, and the sight of neuvillette melting from the inside out claws at something primal in him. amidst the attention, clawed hands find the buckles of neuviliette’s spats and yank them open one by one. a soft prayer of mine slip from him between claiming bites and scent-marking nuzzles, each one pressed reverently into slowly warming skin.
it satisfies wriothesley on a level deeper than reason—to be the one who can heat neuviliette through touch alone, to be the answer to that instinctive cold. and by the time the last clasp comes undone, he’s half-wild with it, steadiness stretched thin beneath the urge to claim.
still, he manages a touch of playfulness. barely. he hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband of neuviliette’s pants, easing them just past the dip of his hips before lifting his head with a stare gone dark and hungry. ]
Let me have you. [ then he lowers his mouth and breathes hot over the still‑clothed bulge of neuviliette’s cock before mouthing wetly against it—heat meeting cold in a way that makes instinct shudder through both of them. ] Let me burn for you.
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now, there is nothing holding him back from staking his claim on his finest prize. wriothesley, who is so full of surprises that he only belatedly realizes how he has now been pinned to the bed, breath momentarily knocked out of him. he's looking up at him with wonder and ravenous hunger both, roiling hot and heavy in the pit of his stomach.
he melts, sinking into the raw, glorious sensation of wriothesley's hands and mouth on his body, arching up to chase every kiss, to invite him to brand himself upon his skin, his soul, his mind. the dragon can't help a low rumble deep, deep down in his chest, possessiveness awakening and threatening to overwhelm his better senses. )
Yes. Yes. ( he groans, trembling with the heat of his mouth against his cocks, neuvillette grinds up into him only to nudge him away with a low, pleased little groan. he lifts his legs for him, shimmying out of his pants and kicking off his spats with a carelessness that will absolutely mortify him when he regains his senses. once he's fully naked, twin cocks half hard and plump with arousal, he sits up to set himself up on display just for him. he wears those nips and bites proudly, warmed up by wriothesley's tender worship. ) You have all of me, Your Grace. ( a touch of mischief, steeped in heat and longing.
gracefully, his cool hands come to splay over his fur-trimmed chest, cupping the swell of his pecs and gently squeezing, sliding his hands down to the fuzz of his treasure trail. )
You've groomed yourself, I see. ( he just about purrs. his pants are in the way, and neuvillette doesn't hesitate to push them off, off his hips, urging him out of them and letting his cock spring free. look at that, thick and full, engorged and flushed dark with arousal amidst a thick thatch of pubic curls that makes his mouth water.
neuvillette's own hunger intensifies, his hand coming to curl around the base of his shaft, thumbing along the thick veins. how the look in wriothesley's eyes thrills him, makes him more than half-wild as well: ) But I love when you are unbridled, like this. I will have you first.
( whoops, the dragon has him pinned down on the bed now, admiring that new height and thickness, that extra meat and muscle on this man. ) I'm going to take you, while you are still present with me. I want you to remember who is claiming you.
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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. ]
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but here and now, there are many new developments that unfurl, and one of them is the privilege of hearing wriothesley's frank confessions, to speak of his own growing feelings for the duke freely, and to have the reins slip from his need to constantly be proper. the hunger in neuvillette's eyes is obvious when he watches the young man grips the barrel of his cock with that hand, watching the thick shaft jutting so proudly in his hand.
he ought to be the one touching it, to take it into his mouth and watch him unravel as he suckles every drop from the heavy, taut balls that hang underneath his cock. wriothesley truly is a magnificent specimen of a man, and an enthralled neuvillette admires him and how his body is flushed with arousal, almost burning with it. he stretches languidly, showing off the bruises he knows are forming, and he allows his fingers to slick up with hydro-lubricant, slippery and copious, only to gently push one finger into the puckered rim of his hole, easing the tight muscle to go deeper. )
Maybe this will help.
( emboldened with lust, neuvillette bats his hand away from his cock with his own, his own gaze glittering. in another swift move, he hitches both his thighs up to his shoulders, pulling him upward so he can press his nose to his taint and feel the tickle of his pubes. deep breath, so he can memorize that heady, manly musk, and feel his cock and balls bounce. his finger goes in deep in a single stroke, and the burning heat of that sheath around him makes his cocks twitch against the other man's lower back. )
You're clenching so tightly around my finger.
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and while wriothesley tries not to give him trouble under normal circumstances, he’s just the same: finding his own caprices alongside neuvillette, unearthing desires that have been long since buried and stifled. he's hardly shy about diving headfirst into indulging his want now when neuvillette makes it so very easy. espeically knowing any bit of affection and tenderness wriothesley is willing to show, neuvillette accepts it with the same about of care.
so when neuvillette sounds particularly tantalized at the sight and feel of the soft rise of hair across his chest—and at how that line trails downward to where wriothesley’s hand now works himself over—he gives the former iudex a performance of how he likes to be touched. the drag of fingers across the sensitive skin below the head, a rough squeeze and caress along the length of his shaft—the show continues even as he eyes the hydro gathering on neuvillette’s fingers. ]
You know I'll always appreciate any reminders.
[ it’s all he manages to breathe out with a small, lopsided smile before neuvillette gently eases the tight ring of muscle open to work a long, slender finger inside him. the intrusion pulls an unsteady rise and fall from his chest, followed by a soft groan; and soon enough, the rhythm of his own strokes matches the push and pull of neuvillette’s fingers.
he’d be content to keep that pace—until neuvillette sharply withdraws, leaving him bereft enough to voice a disappointed sound. there’s barely time to recover before he’s hauled upward, knees hooking over neuvillette’s shoulders. and instinct tenses his muscles to help hold himself there, but another instinct drives his hips up the moment neuvillette leans in to relish every bit of skin between his legs.
the sudden rough press of neuvillette’s finger inside him again nets a helpless groan. his nails scrape lightly along neuvillette’s knees before he drags his heels against the expanse of the other's back, urging him closer and deeper. he huffs a breath into the air; from here he’s not above asking for neuvillette’s cock outright, but part of him suspects that’s exactly what neuvillette's is expecting. better to play to neuvillette’s whims and see where that gets him, so he voices out—strained: ]
Feel free to add more if you’d like.
[ the rise of neuvillette's cocks at the small of his back draws the attention of his tail as it excitedly sways between the other's legs, alongside the tips of his wolf ears twitching in anticipation. ]
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( neuvillette instructs after a moment. he can sense the way wriothesley's walls crumble, and how he clings to the crumbs of resistance, to hold on to the flawless veneer of the duke, and the man who has always carved out his own path without needing to ask for anything. or perhaps it's just that the few times wriothesley had, they had all been coldly ignored. but enough of maudlin thoughts; neuvillette's nosing against his scrotum affectionately, taking his balls in his mouth to lave his tongue over them.
it's languid, erotic, a demonstration of how he adores this man and how easy it is to want to worship him with every fiber of his being. smiling faintly at the excited swish of his tail, neuvillette grinds into him with a soft murmur of approval, nosing along the base of his cock. the weight and shape of his balls in his mouth is incredible, and neuvillette, breathing him in, keeps his finger buried in his ass, fucking him with deliberate slowness.
ask, and it will be given to him. neuvillette wants to show him a whole new way of being, to smooth over old wounds they have never spoken about. letting go of his balls eventually, he lets him down so that he can comfortably cradle him between his thighs again. licking his lips, as if chasing the taste and scent of him, he sinks that finger deep. )
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and judging by the way neuvillette matches his banter with that particular command, encourages him to want more with the lavish drag of his tongue over cock and balls, and how that slicked finger insistently works him open—he knows he’s close to losing the last of his composure. every time he clenches down on that digit, he keens for more. though it’s hard to keep his back arched, seeking to work neuvillette's finger deeper even as his joints threaten to click from the strain; neuvillette gives him mercy. gently guides him back down onto the bed, lets him settle in the cradle of his hips, and greedily takes in the sight of him writhing in the sheets. his tail’s lightly pinned between them, already curling around neuvillette’s cocks, and slowly mussed from the precome staining its fur.
but with better purchase against the sheets, wriothesley moans and begins to fuck himself eagerly on that finger. and for a while, it scratches that itch his natural soul keeps chasing for. although when the pleasure plateaus—steady and maddening—as neuvillette deliberately avoids the bundle of nerves, wriothesley tries in vain to work his hips harder against the other's hand. it leaves him wound tight, exasperated, and he groans as his hands slip from neuvillette’s knees to twist into the sheets. ]
Please— [ he’s caught between himself and the rising heat that rises to his features the longer they draw this out. and after a few panting breaths to right himself, he continues; voice strained, wet with want. ] Please spread me open. On your fingers first—then your cock.
[ while he’s still present, while he’s still mostly sane—just as they both promised between them. so he swallows, thrusts once more with a broken moan, and finishes with quiet conviction. ]
Both of them.
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this is why neuvillette does what he does, to remind wriothesley that what he feels for him goes beyond the confines of karteria's laws, that the progression of their feelings lie not in the urgency of imprinting and bonding, but something else.
the yoke of their duties have fallen off of them if only for awhile in here, and neuvillette can't help but admire the way wriothesley lays back in the sheets, fucking himself eagerly to little avail. he won't let him get satisfaction just yet, even if every sweet suck of his hole around his finger threatens to overwhelm him. he pushes a second finger in, nice and slow, stretching him out further and crooking his fingers within him to rub against his walls.
wriothesley's cheeks are flushed, his exasperation sweet like honey — how can neuvillette resist him when he begs that that, every filthy word spilling from kiss-bruised lips? he croons a low, humming praise before he leans over him to kiss him again, wanting the younger man to know that this is the highest form of intimacy, of what they can give each other before their natural souls take over. this is what can be trusted.
when he hears that he wants both at the same time, neuvillette shakes his head, words hot against his mouth. )
Not yet. One, first. Two will break you.
( the third finger, slippery, slick, fingertips lightly brushing over his prostate to tease. ) Do you like how this feels? You're sucking me inside so greedily, it's hard to move...
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the pitch of his hips takes on a different speed once wriothesley tethers himself to neuvillette’s rhythm. the way he fucks himself on one, then two fingers turns less frenetic and more focused. it’s easier, then, to reach out and drape his arms across the breadth of neuvillette’s shoulders—to coax him closer, to offer up each moan and sigh with tender clarity under the weight of neuvillette’s care. even when neuvillette draws back a scant inch to steady him, to remind him of where he belongs—beside him, here and now—there’s nothing but a soft whine and a quiet nod in return.
whether he’s nodding to the kind warning or answering a question is hard to say. because when the third finger joins the rest, and the kiss he leaves turns open-mouthed and keen against neuvillette’s tongue, wriothesley arches—dead set on chasing that exquisite pressure. enough that his muscles begin to tremble and his hips stutter, desperate to commit the feeling to memory. ]
Yes. Yes.
[ the second 'yes' is drawn out in earnest, as if in agreement. the third utterance comes softer, beseeching. and what follows is near a whisper—a litany of 'yeses' that dissolve into a lovely and unrestrained sound. it isn’t until he remembers he’s still half-hanging off the other that he leans in again, chasing another kiss with mumbled noises shaped vaguely into a name. ]
Neuvillette... I want you inside. As deep as you’ll go.
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he takes in a deep breath of him, sucking a lovebite on the soft skin behind his ear, then another, crooning warm praise in a low, approving rumble. wriothesley is blossoming to life under him, and the growing honesty and vulnerability of his needs. neuvillette indulges, infinitely tender and giving, pressing deep inside of him with every stroke, fingertips rubbing against the squeeze of his warm, slippery walls.
he's grinding his cocks up against his warm belly with a low groan, smearing streaks of pre-cum along the flat of it, marking his territory and reminding him of who he belongs to. grasping one hand, neuvillette guides him to both shafts, encouraging him to touch, to feel, to know how aroused he is for him, how he is needed. )
I will, I promise. ( he lets go of his hand only to guide wriothesley's straining cock against both of his as well, indulging in another greedy kiss. the fingers inside him reach deeper, stretching him wider. ) Let me enjoy you like this first. I have craved you like this the moment I kissed you.
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it’s telling, the way any resistance—and much of the fight—bleeds out of his frame with a few more moans. and now, now that he’s allowed to channel a bit of his excitement under neuvillette’s instruction, it’s no surprise that both hands slip between them to stroke and caress neuvillette’s draconian cocks. and sure, he’s invited into working his own erection into the mess, but he still lifts his head with a glassy stare—more preoccupied with admiring neuvillette’s lengths instead.
his expression is an open book: the way he hums while curling his palm over the fatter, thicker cock; the way his mouth moves silently, as if contemplating how to suck each if and when given the chance; and the way he wantonly fixes his gaze upward towards neuvillette—pupils blown wide, and teeth flashing faintly as he nips his bottom lip while calloused fingers tease each ridge. he's curtained some by neuvillette's loose hair, and that spurs him on to being a little more obvious in his arousal. ]
Only since then? [ his voice sounds small and lost, but surprisingly raw and open. there’s hardly any of his usual filters left with his thoughts as he happily keeps himself busy stroking neuvillette. ] I’ve wanted this from you for a long while. Years.
[ he still has the mind to keep working himself open on neuvillette’s fingers, clumsily thrusting against the other’s cocks—but it’s all secondary now. what matters is the feel of neuvillette hardening in his hands and how good that feels to be the reason for it. ]
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🎀 thnx for the practice bromie MWUAH