( perhaps it's something that neuvillette should be pleased about, when wriothesley finally yields to him without a glib word, or putting up a front. perhaps it's even more difficult when they're bound together like this, because he can feel the thrum of apprehension, roiling but muted. this is wriothesley, who has flourished despite the odds, who has depended solely on his independence, and neuvillette understands. the walls have always worked for him, taking him to greater heights, keeping him safe.
all wriothesley has to go on to give all of that up is neuvillette's word — an impossible thing, almost. he can feel it, the moment of trust, delicate and precious as a butterfly, tentative and fragile, and neuvillette can't help a warm swell of wonder and curiosity, limned with quiet patience. his kisses are tender, the lightest press of lips and tongue, arms looped around him to keep him nestled. i want to be close, wriothesley confesses, and his heart flutters.
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🎀
all wriothesley has to go on to give all of that up is neuvillette's word — an impossible thing, almost. he can feel it, the moment of trust, delicate and precious as a butterfly, tentative and fragile, and neuvillette can't help a warm swell of wonder and curiosity, limned with quiet patience. his kisses are tender, the lightest press of lips and tongue, arms looped around him to keep him nestled. i want to be close, wriothesley confesses, and his heart flutters.
love, he thinks. this might be love. )