( 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. ]
( did he say years? neuvillette blinks, startled by the revelation, his heart struck by the raw, vulnerable lilt of his voice. now, he seems so much younger than his years, and he can't help but groan at the way his pulse races, the coil in his stomach tightening with powerful, undeniable want. the wiggle and twitch of his wolf ears is endlessly endearing, and he noses against the softness of the fur, uttering another low, half-baked murmur of praise. he, too, is lost in the depths of wriothesley's unexpected confession, the heat of his calloused hand wrapped around his cocks, exploring and teasing. surely, wriothesley must know the effect he has on him, staggeringly intoxicating and maddening, driving him to the very limits of his own restraint.
his lips find their way back to wriothesley's own, hungry and all-consuming, and in between kisses he manages a breathless, heated confession of his own: )
I have never allowed myself the privilege of wanting you, up until then.
( he couldn't. shouldn't. to give himself space for those thoughts is to fail in his duty as chief justice of the nation, and to dishonor all that wriothesley has done to improve meropide. their behavior had to have been above reproach, their dealings clean. but now... now, he simply cannot help himself when wriothesley looks like that, so hungry for more. he pulls his fingers out of him only to add more of the lubricant to their cocks, slicking them up and preparing himself, too, lending wriothesley more to prepare him with.
he lets him feel the emptiness, before he grinds up against him, rolling his hips insistently. ) And now... you drive me to madness.
[ that’s the quiet beauty of confessions—at their core, they’re nothing more than each of their own spoken truths. nothing made to be measured up to or entirely matched in any way. so wriothesley swallows around neuvillette’s easily, letting it settle between kisses, holding it close even as his lips move. both their confessions carry weight, but wriothesley lets that weight rest in the place where his own feelings have long been buried, letting the last of his lingering doubts slough away so he can hold onto the tenderness behind neuvillette’s words. ]
S’okay.
[ his answer is light between them, smooth enough to signal neuvillette not to dwell on it too deeply. and yet, there's something quietly poignant in the softness of it—a truth unspoken, but understood. like if they weren't in karteria, then perhaps it would’ve been left unsaid for a long while. longing and yearning aren't easy comforts for either of them, especially with their positions in mind, but wriothesley had long since accepted that such things might never find him until maybe he'd left the fortress behind.
but now that he’s chosen to seize it for himself, here—in this moment, this confession—is a risk he’s finally willing to take. just like the sound he makes when neuvillette’s fingers withdraw, open and honest in its whine, though it only coaxes wriothesley to stroke the other faster. hydro-slick thickens between them as rough hands reverently spread it over both of neuvillette’s cocks, and wriothesley tightens his grip when the other grinds up into his fists; hoping that the pressure offers some idea of the tightness waiting for him. ]
Which one first?
[ wriothesley shifts further up the bed, lifting his hips with practiced ease, before angling the heads of neuvillette’s cocks to his entrance. it takes a moment of teasing—choosing between the fatter tip or the slimmer, spade-shaped one—but he sighs with a slight arch of his back as he weighs the choice. ]
Start with the one that'll make me yours. Leave me full of you.
[ he seals the provocation with a measured lick across neuvillette’s lips, tracing the seam before dragging the tip of his tongue slowly over the softness of neuvillette's mouth as the other sighs. ]
( the quicker pace of wriothesley's strokes very nearly wrecks him; the man is far too skilled at what he's doing, and he can't help but roll his hips greedily into his touch, chasing the sweet friction of his grip. truly, longing and yearning aren't easy comforts, but this feels like a warped sort of fantasy come true. a precious glimpse into what it can possibly be.
neuvillette's heart is pounding, every thought focused only on wriothesley and his confession, how it erodes even more of his own restraint, which is already in tatters — decorum is a long-lost dream, as is any sense of propriety, especially when the other man practically slicks him up and lets him thrust into his fist.
he can taste it, the fraction of the pleasure he will be afforded, and for once, impatience sets in, grasping the fatter one to line it up against his entrance. this time, he doesn't wait, pushing the flared, engorged head of his fully-aroused cock past the tight ring of muscle. despite having prepared him, he's still deliciously, temptingly tight; but neuvillette continues, inch by painstaking inch.
eyes closing, he can't help a low growl, because yes, yes, of course he means to make him his, to fill him up until he cannot take more, and the thought of it is enough to thrust in fully, seating himself deep and giving in to the incredible suction of his lover's hole. mine, now mine, as if he, too, had lain in wait for years. he parts his lips and deepens the kiss ravenously, suckling on his tongue and inviting him in, his free hand gripping the other's hip. )
[ neuvillette’s first push knocks the breath from wriothesley’s lungs, stealing the world out from under him with a slow, devastating precision. the thick, flared crown presses in with unrelenting insistence, each inch carving a path that leaves his spine taut and his thoughts scattering at the edges. it’s not a blunt force so much as an inevitable claiming, one that settles deep with the kind of patience that feels almost reverent—his body opened not by force, but by purpose and unfettered desire.
his hands reach instinctively, frantically grasping for neuvillette’s arms as his muscles tighten reflexively around the intrusion. the way neuvillette sinks deeper sends something sharp fluttering through his chest—not pain, not quite—more like a rush of heat wound so tight it blurs into everything else: the weight of neuvillete's chest against him, the heavy hand anchored at his hip, to the low and claiming sound neuvillette makes just before their kiss folds seamlessly into the drag of movement inside him.
when neuvillette finally settles flush, hips aligned with his own, the fullness strikes so deep it draws a shuddered taut arch from wriothesley’s back. then what begins as a sharp ache dissolves too quickly into a molten, throbbing pleasure that tears the breath right from his throat. he rolls his hips before he can stop himself, chasing more, chasing anything despite neuvillette's crushing grip, and the resulting pressure makes his nerves light up in a rush that leaves him clinging tight. there’s no room for restraint now—not with the way every nerve sings and he feels like he’s unraveling by degrees.
composure is long gone. heat surges in waves across his skin, his pulse hammering at the base of his throat as he lifts his gaze—eyes dark and glassy with the weight of being filled so utterly. when wriothesley speaks, the words barely hold together, too frayed at the seams to pass for anything composed. ]
Move. [ a whine slips out, thin and trembling, his breath catching as another tremor surges through him. ] Please, just—move.
[ he says it like he’s at the edge of something too big to name, like he can’t bear the stillness with neuvillette lodged so deep inside him—where there's no space left to give, but only the ache for more. it's a relentless press that breaks him open, just to fill him again. because even through the haze, he knows this is the furthest he's ever gone—and already, his body wants to be taken past it. ]
( neuvillette's own response is more strained than he thought it would be; ultimately, he, too, is not immune to the intoxicating clutch of wriothesley's slick passage, the squeeze around his throbbing cock feels impossible. he stills himself inside of him, his grip keeping wriothesley locked down so that he can't decide to move and hurt himself.
he can tell that wriothesley's maddened by their joining, the lovely glassy look of his eyes, the whine in his voice and the way those lips part. oh, how he wishes he can capture this glorious moment in time, when he's so deep inside of him that he can't think of anything else but the primal need to mate, to make him irrevocably his. eventually, he lets go of his hip, only to slide his hand up his scarred throat to feel the bob of his adams apple, thumb pressing lightly on his pulse to track just how quickly it's going. beautiful.
neuvillette spares a few moments to admire him, the most minute roll of his hips gentle encouragement to let him get used to his size. their cocks, pinned between their flush bodies, are lined up perfectly. )
You're feeling me now, Wriothesley. ( he continues, almost cracking as he presses up deep, forehead resting on the man's shoulder in a vain bid to keep himself together. he can't look into those wild eyes, can't hear that heartfelt plea, or he will completely, utterly wreck this man before he's even ready. ) Am I — not deep inside you?
[ wriothesley couldn’t move even if he tried—not with neuvillette pinning him down with a steadiness that felt both protective and unbearably commanding. coupled with the threadbare bid to have patience and behave; the weight of neuvillette’s body and the iron-tight grip on his hip kept wriothesley’s full attention fixed on the overwhelming stretch lodged impossibly deep inside him. the stillness he was made to accept was its own kind of torture, as his body continued to pulse around the thick cock seated in him—hot, tight, aching—every throb a voiceless plea he couldn’t give shape to without unraveling into something rawer than he was ready to admit.
so he obliges neuvillette’s hold and waits, just as asked. and when he’s rewarded with that same hand trailing from his hip to his neck—right across the worst of his scars—wriothesley shudders, legs falling further open without being told. his breath catches and stutters, caught against the thumb resting lightly at his throat, right over the frantic leap of his pulse. that pressure only sharpens his awareness of how completely he’s being held and utterly claimed
but it’s when neuvillette asks the question—low, strained—that wriothesley feels it sink into him just as deeply. for a moment, he isn’t sure if the shivers that rolls through him comes from the sound of neuvillette’s voice or from the slow, calculated grind that follows. it drags a sobbing hiccup from his chest, and before he can think twice, his legs lift—hooking at the inside of neuvillette’s knees, before dragging them wider, forcing more of that divine pressure into him. it draws a cry that shakes straight through his core, and a shout neuvillette can feel in more ways than one. ]
You are— [ he breathes, the words snagging on a sharp intake as his body gives another involuntary pulse around neuvillette’s cock. his eyes flutter open—unsure when they’d fallen shut in the first place—and the world around them feels blurred. whether it’s the warm drag of their bodies pressed together, or the faint nudge of neuvillette’s other cock trapped between them and slicking heat across his skin, everything feels painfully intimate. skin to skin. breath to breath. a closeness that borders on reverent.
wriothesley risks lifting his hands, smoothing over where his nails bit into neuvillette’s arms, then sliding up—threading behind the other’s shoulders to pull him close, pressing their chests flush. and what he whispers next, the way he does it—teeth grazing neuvillette’s flushed ear, breath fogging against the other’s temple—is absolutely ruinous. ]
You’re so deep I can’t think around it. So, please... [ he pleads again, voice wet and hoarse, cracked from the strain of holding still. ] Don’t make me wait much longer.
( has the moon already risen, he wonders. he's certain it's not for a few more hours yet, just so that wriothesley knows what it's like to be completely fucked and claimed while he's not under the influence — that this isn't part of survival, but a deeper and more enduring sentiment that crackles in between them.
wriothesley obliges, and neuvillette croons soft, half-formed praise against his furry ear, moving up to nose against it. he lets go of him to help hitch his legs up higher, smoothing over the backs of his thighs in open affection. it changes up the angle that has neuvillette nestled inside him, pushing up against the sensitive knot of his prostate.
he wraps an arm around him to press in close, rolling his hips once, twice, murmuring sweet nothings to calm him before teasing him with kisses to the side of his mouth, inviting him to chase, and eventually spoiling him with scorching, searching kisses. eventually, he moves, gripped by a powerful desire to answer wriothesley's needy plea, to offer up pleasure and comfort and show him that he can provide.
he pulls out only to push in again in a slick slide, breath stuttering when he sinks in the second time, unable to resist the greedy suction of his hole. ) Wrio —
[ not at all—although by the time the full moon hangs overhead them both, wriothesley will be entirely consumed by a different kind of need. but right now, the desire is slower and deeper, drawn tight like a breath held too long. where it holds him more thoroughly than the imprint ever could, though the haze it casts at the edges of his vision doesn’t hurt to sink into. although if he were of clearer mind—and not choking on the sheer girth of neuvillette—he might’ve realized the soft blue halo above him isn’t from the imprint at all, but from neuvillette’s rhinophores glowing.
his legs, lifted and held with a kind of reverence, tremble as neuvillette’s hands slide up the backs of his thighs—soft palms smoothing over tender skin. a grunt breaks from his chest at the pull of being nearly folded in half; as the new angle leaves him helplessly open, just enough to unpin his tail from beneath their weight, and it thumps and twitches erratically between neuvillette’s spread knees in protest. every inch of him aches with the stretch around neuvillette’s cock, the slow tide of movement sparking through his nerves. and when neuvillette rolls his hips again, wriothesley’s breath fractures into a whine—sharp and marked by the first shimmer of tears.
the sweet nothings melt against his ear—low and constant—hooking him deeper into chasing neuvillette's mouth, panting and pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach. it’s messy, uncoordinated, but wriothesley doesn’t particularly care. not when neuvillette finally seals their mouths together properly, deep and possessive, pulling a desperate moan straight from wriothesley’s chest. his fingers scrabble at neuvillette’s shoulders, then slowly drag down, combing through sweat-damp hair to find steady purchase along the breadth of his back. ]
Again, Neuvillette—
[ the next thrust shatters whatever fragile control he had left. whatever words that were set to follow die with a moan, drowned by the searing stretch of neuvillette pulling out—just far enough to feel the catch of his rim—before plunging back in with a smooth, devastating push. it draws a sharp cry from him, his body clenching greedily as if to pull neuvillette even deeper. his back arches, chest brushing neuvillette’s with every movement, and the intensity teeters into the edge of delirium.
now half-feral with need, wriothesley whines out incoherent sounds—voice cracked and desperate—telling neuvillette everything he needs to know without a single comprehensible word: ]
( neuvillette spares a moment to stroke his tail, before shifting up to tease the base of it, circling the appendage in fond acknowledgement. it's so much a part of him now, this thing, and a reminder of where they are and what they can be to each other.
he dispenses the kisses freely, addicted to wriothesley's taste and the tangle of their tongues every time. the whine of his voice is intoxicating, but even in the depths of powerful, undeniable desire, neuvillette retains the need to make sure he's all right, that it doesn't hurt. the blue glow of his arousal casts gentle shadows over their lovemaking, and he hisses softly when he feels those blunt nails down his shoulders. it doesn't hurt, not really; it anchors the duke to him beautifully, and neuvillette rewards him with a harder thrust, and another.
he doesn't pick up the pace, keeping it steady every time he rocks into him, but wriothesley clearly has other ideas — that greedy hole sucks him in desperately every time he pulls out, almost catching his rim and sinking deep, and every time he pushes through that resistance is its own kind of heaven.
he's drowning in him, endlessly enveloped by wriothesley's embrace, his need, echoing between the lurid sounds their bodies make every single time they come together. he makes sure to close a hand around both their cocks, guiding wriothesley to thrust into it alongside him. his words are low, almost breathless. ) Easy. I have you, I have you.
[ when neuvillette’s hand slips lower to trace the line of his spine and cup the base of his tail, wriothesley jerks, the touch pulling hairline tremors through him before he shakes his head frantically. ]
Too much.
[ is all he can manage at first as it lights up nerves he's not yet used to, too new and too sensitive, standing in stark contrast to the first hard thrust neuvillette gives him. he’s soothed only by immediate kisses he doesn’t have to chase after this time, and soon his breathing dips from the fever pitch of overstimulation into something more controlled—low moans, soft noises that coax a little more affection from neuvillette. insatiable as ever, even with wriothesley already taken fully in every way that matters and the sole focus of the hydro sovereign.
meanwhile, neuvillette’s pace remains deliberate. despite wriothesley’s pleas earlier, this particular rhythm suits him more—each stroke dragging him into a different space entirely, brushing against nerves he didn’t know he had. it’s deeper, tighter, and relentless in how it draws him closer to a crest he can’t brace himself against. each careful push grazes that spot inside him, a press that makes his body tense like it’s caught in a low, rolling current. his breath hitches—not sharp, but heavy, as if the air itself is too thick to draw in with neuvillette still inside him.
the next thrust lands with more weight—not faster, just more certain. the kind that tells him neuvillette has found exactly what he was looking for. even as the other coos from above, takes him in hand and urges him to rut up into his palm, wriothesley lets the force of neuvillette’s hips rock him forward and back until he’s bucking helplessly into that tight fist. he doesn’t know how long he stays like that—lost between blinks heavy with tears, between neuvillette slipping in and out of his vision—suspended on the edge until a twist of the wrist or a punishing grind breaks him open. his mouth falls slack, silent at first, before a choked groan claws its way out as his spine bows off the bed. ]
Neuvillette—
[ wriothesley’s voice fractures mid-syllable, stretched thin by the pressure coiled low in his belly. the pleasure isn’t rising in waves anymore; it’s winding tighter, sharper, demanding something he can’t hold back.
the last thrust isn’t faster or harder—just true. it glides directly along the swollen curve of his prostate, and that’s what finally tears the sound from him. his head tips back like it’s caught by an invisible thread as his body clamps down in rhythmic pulses. he trembles violently as the orgasm rips through him—blinding, all-consuming, focused entirely around that deep, unrelenting fullness. as the release rocks up his spine, stealing his breath, and wrenches something raw from his throat he’s never heard himself make. ]
( his release takes neuvillette by surprise, the shock of it sending him tumbling over in the next heartbeat, drawn along with wriothesley and swallowed up completely by the tight clutch of his needy hole. they finally, truly connect, and the iudex sees stars when he empties himself into him and on him.
he's overwhelmed, gripping him tight and holding on to wriothesley, embracing him through the riptide of his own orgasm, keeping him anchored against him. he is completely lost in him, unable to register anything but the way their breaths mingle, how they pulse and pant in tandem with each other.
in this, they are one. neuvillette replays the raw, wrecked sounds he had torn from him, breaking wriothesley's composure into pieces only to put him back together again. this is trust in its truest form, where wriothesley allows neuvillette to bear witness to his most vulnerable moment, while sticky white seed is carelessly painted all over the canvas of their sweat-drenched bodies.
he can feel slow, stuttering pulses of himself, offering up the last bursts of his own ejaculate, filling him up even more, until warm seed is spilling out of his hole onto his thighs.
they're a mess — and he can't blame them; sex is always an incredibly messy affair. he nuzzles along the side of his face, nosing the tears he sees, and wiping the other with his thumb, gentle and tender. )
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no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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. )
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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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his lips find their way back to wriothesley's own, hungry and all-consuming, and in between kisses he manages a breathless, heated confession of his own: )
I have never allowed myself the privilege of wanting you, up until then.
( he couldn't. shouldn't. to give himself space for those thoughts is to fail in his duty as chief justice of the nation, and to dishonor all that wriothesley has done to improve meropide. their behavior had to have been above reproach, their dealings clean. but now... now, he simply cannot help himself when wriothesley looks like that, so hungry for more. he pulls his fingers out of him only to add more of the lubricant to their cocks, slicking them up and preparing himself, too, lending wriothesley more to prepare him with.
he lets him feel the emptiness, before he grinds up against him, rolling his hips insistently. ) And now... you drive me to madness.
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S’okay.
[ his answer is light between them, smooth enough to signal neuvillette not to dwell on it too deeply. and yet, there's something quietly poignant in the softness of it—a truth unspoken, but understood. like if they weren't in karteria, then perhaps it would’ve been left unsaid for a long while. longing and yearning aren't easy comforts for either of them, especially with their positions in mind, but wriothesley had long since accepted that such things might never find him until maybe he'd left the fortress behind.
but now that he’s chosen to seize it for himself, here—in this moment, this confession—is a risk he’s finally willing to take. just like the sound he makes when neuvillette’s fingers withdraw, open and honest in its whine, though it only coaxes wriothesley to stroke the other faster. hydro-slick thickens between them as rough hands reverently spread it over both of neuvillette’s cocks, and wriothesley tightens his grip when the other grinds up into his fists; hoping that the pressure offers some idea of the tightness waiting for him. ]
Which one first?
[ wriothesley shifts further up the bed, lifting his hips with practiced ease, before angling the heads of neuvillette’s cocks to his entrance. it takes a moment of teasing—choosing between the fatter tip or the slimmer, spade-shaped one—but he sighs with a slight arch of his back as he weighs the choice. ]
Start with the one that'll make me yours. Leave me full of you.
[ he seals the provocation with a measured lick across neuvillette’s lips, tracing the seam before dragging the tip of his tongue slowly over the softness of neuvillette's mouth as the other sighs. ]
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neuvillette's heart is pounding, every thought focused only on wriothesley and his confession, how it erodes even more of his own restraint, which is already in tatters — decorum is a long-lost dream, as is any sense of propriety, especially when the other man practically slicks him up and lets him thrust into his fist.
he can taste it, the fraction of the pleasure he will be afforded, and for once, impatience sets in, grasping the fatter one to line it up against his entrance. this time, he doesn't wait, pushing the flared, engorged head of his fully-aroused cock past the tight ring of muscle. despite having prepared him, he's still deliciously, temptingly tight; but neuvillette continues, inch by painstaking inch.
eyes closing, he can't help a low growl, because yes, yes, of course he means to make him his, to fill him up until he cannot take more, and the thought of it is enough to thrust in fully, seating himself deep and giving in to the incredible suction of his lover's hole. mine, now mine, as if he, too, had lain in wait for years. he parts his lips and deepens the kiss ravenously, suckling on his tongue and inviting him in, his free hand gripping the other's hip. )
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his hands reach instinctively, frantically grasping for neuvillette’s arms as his muscles tighten reflexively around the intrusion. the way neuvillette sinks deeper sends something sharp fluttering through his chest—not pain, not quite—more like a rush of heat wound so tight it blurs into everything else: the weight of neuvillete's chest against him, the heavy hand anchored at his hip, to the low and claiming sound neuvillette makes just before their kiss folds seamlessly into the drag of movement inside him.
when neuvillette finally settles flush, hips aligned with his own, the fullness strikes so deep it draws a shuddered taut arch from wriothesley’s back. then what begins as a sharp ache dissolves too quickly into a molten, throbbing pleasure that tears the breath right from his throat. he rolls his hips before he can stop himself, chasing more, chasing anything despite neuvillette's crushing grip, and the resulting pressure makes his nerves light up in a rush that leaves him clinging tight. there’s no room for restraint now—not with the way every nerve sings and he feels like he’s unraveling by degrees.
composure is long gone. heat surges in waves across his skin, his pulse hammering at the base of his throat as he lifts his gaze—eyes dark and glassy with the weight of being filled so utterly. when wriothesley speaks, the words barely hold together, too frayed at the seams to pass for anything composed. ]
Move. [ a whine slips out, thin and trembling, his breath catching as another tremor surges through him. ] Please, just—move.
[ he says it like he’s at the edge of something too big to name, like he can’t bear the stillness with neuvillette lodged so deep inside him—where there's no space left to give, but only the ache for more. it's a relentless press that breaks him open, just to fill him again. because even through the haze, he knows this is the furthest he's ever gone—and already, his body wants to be taken past it. ]
Please, Neuvillette. I need to feel you.
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( neuvillette's own response is more strained than he thought it would be; ultimately, he, too, is not immune to the intoxicating clutch of wriothesley's slick passage, the squeeze around his throbbing cock feels impossible. he stills himself inside of him, his grip keeping wriothesley locked down so that he can't decide to move and hurt himself.
he can tell that wriothesley's maddened by their joining, the lovely glassy look of his eyes, the whine in his voice and the way those lips part. oh, how he wishes he can capture this glorious moment in time, when he's so deep inside of him that he can't think of anything else but the primal need to mate, to make him irrevocably his. eventually, he lets go of his hip, only to slide his hand up his scarred throat to feel the bob of his adams apple, thumb pressing lightly on his pulse to track just how quickly it's going. beautiful.
neuvillette spares a few moments to admire him, the most minute roll of his hips gentle encouragement to let him get used to his size. their cocks, pinned between their flush bodies, are lined up perfectly. )
You're feeling me now, Wriothesley. ( he continues, almost cracking as he presses up deep, forehead resting on the man's shoulder in a vain bid to keep himself together. he can't look into those wild eyes, can't hear that heartfelt plea, or he will completely, utterly wreck this man before he's even ready. ) Am I — not deep inside you?
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so he obliges neuvillette’s hold and waits, just as asked. and when he’s rewarded with that same hand trailing from his hip to his neck—right across the worst of his scars—wriothesley shudders, legs falling further open without being told. his breath catches and stutters, caught against the thumb resting lightly at his throat, right over the frantic leap of his pulse. that pressure only sharpens his awareness of how completely he’s being held and utterly claimed
but it’s when neuvillette asks the question—low, strained—that wriothesley feels it sink into him just as deeply. for a moment, he isn’t sure if the shivers that rolls through him comes from the sound of neuvillette’s voice or from the slow, calculated grind that follows. it drags a sobbing hiccup from his chest, and before he can think twice, his legs lift—hooking at the inside of neuvillette’s knees, before dragging them wider, forcing more of that divine pressure into him. it draws a cry that shakes straight through his core, and a shout neuvillette can feel in more ways than one. ]
You are— [ he breathes, the words snagging on a sharp intake as his body gives another involuntary pulse around neuvillette’s cock. his eyes flutter open—unsure when they’d fallen shut in the first place—and the world around them feels blurred. whether it’s the warm drag of their bodies pressed together, or the faint nudge of neuvillette’s other cock trapped between them and slicking heat across his skin, everything feels painfully intimate. skin to skin. breath to breath. a closeness that borders on reverent.
wriothesley risks lifting his hands, smoothing over where his nails bit into neuvillette’s arms, then sliding up—threading behind the other’s shoulders to pull him close, pressing their chests flush. and what he whispers next, the way he does it—teeth grazing neuvillette’s flushed ear, breath fogging against the other’s temple—is absolutely ruinous. ]
You’re so deep I can’t think around it. So, please... [ he pleads again, voice wet and hoarse, cracked from the strain of holding still. ] Don’t make me wait much longer.
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wriothesley obliges, and neuvillette croons soft, half-formed praise against his furry ear, moving up to nose against it. he lets go of him to help hitch his legs up higher, smoothing over the backs of his thighs in open affection. it changes up the angle that has neuvillette nestled inside him, pushing up against the sensitive knot of his prostate.
he wraps an arm around him to press in close, rolling his hips once, twice, murmuring sweet nothings to calm him before teasing him with kisses to the side of his mouth, inviting him to chase, and eventually spoiling him with scorching, searching kisses. eventually, he moves, gripped by a powerful desire to answer wriothesley's needy plea, to offer up pleasure and comfort and show him that he can provide.
he pulls out only to push in again in a slick slide, breath stuttering when he sinks in the second time, unable to resist the greedy suction of his hole. ) Wrio —
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his legs, lifted and held with a kind of reverence, tremble as neuvillette’s hands slide up the backs of his thighs—soft palms smoothing over tender skin. a grunt breaks from his chest at the pull of being nearly folded in half; as the new angle leaves him helplessly open, just enough to unpin his tail from beneath their weight, and it thumps and twitches erratically between neuvillette’s spread knees in protest. every inch of him aches with the stretch around neuvillette’s cock, the slow tide of movement sparking through his nerves. and when neuvillette rolls his hips again, wriothesley’s breath fractures into a whine—sharp and marked by the first shimmer of tears.
the sweet nothings melt against his ear—low and constant—hooking him deeper into chasing neuvillette's mouth, panting and pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses wherever he can reach. it’s messy, uncoordinated, but wriothesley doesn’t particularly care. not when neuvillette finally seals their mouths together properly, deep and possessive, pulling a desperate moan straight from wriothesley’s chest. his fingers scrabble at neuvillette’s shoulders, then slowly drag down, combing through sweat-damp hair to find steady purchase along the breadth of his back. ]
Again, Neuvillette—
[ the next thrust shatters whatever fragile control he had left. whatever words that were set to follow die with a moan, drowned by the searing stretch of neuvillette pulling out—just far enough to feel the catch of his rim—before plunging back in with a smooth, devastating push. it draws a sharp cry from him, his body clenching greedily as if to pull neuvillette even deeper. his back arches, chest brushing neuvillette’s with every movement, and the intensity teeters into the edge of delirium.
now half-feral with need, wriothesley whines out incoherent sounds—voice cracked and desperate—telling neuvillette everything he needs to know without a single comprehensible word: ]
Yes, yes. Don’t stop. More.
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he dispenses the kisses freely, addicted to wriothesley's taste and the tangle of their tongues every time. the whine of his voice is intoxicating, but even in the depths of powerful, undeniable desire, neuvillette retains the need to make sure he's all right, that it doesn't hurt. the blue glow of his arousal casts gentle shadows over their lovemaking, and he hisses softly when he feels those blunt nails down his shoulders. it doesn't hurt, not really; it anchors the duke to him beautifully, and neuvillette rewards him with a harder thrust, and another.
he doesn't pick up the pace, keeping it steady every time he rocks into him, but wriothesley clearly has other ideas — that greedy hole sucks him in desperately every time he pulls out, almost catching his rim and sinking deep, and every time he pushes through that resistance is its own kind of heaven.
he's drowning in him, endlessly enveloped by wriothesley's embrace, his need, echoing between the lurid sounds their bodies make every single time they come together. he makes sure to close a hand around both their cocks, guiding wriothesley to thrust into it alongside him. his words are low, almost breathless. ) Easy. I have you, I have you.
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Too much.
[ is all he can manage at first as it lights up nerves he's not yet used to, too new and too sensitive, standing in stark contrast to the first hard thrust neuvillette gives him. he’s soothed only by immediate kisses he doesn’t have to chase after this time, and soon his breathing dips from the fever pitch of overstimulation into something more controlled—low moans, soft noises that coax a little more affection from neuvillette. insatiable as ever, even with wriothesley already taken fully in every way that matters and the sole focus of the hydro sovereign.
meanwhile, neuvillette’s pace remains deliberate. despite wriothesley’s pleas earlier, this particular rhythm suits him more—each stroke dragging him into a different space entirely, brushing against nerves he didn’t know he had. it’s deeper, tighter, and relentless in how it draws him closer to a crest he can’t brace himself against. each careful push grazes that spot inside him, a press that makes his body tense like it’s caught in a low, rolling current. his breath hitches—not sharp, but heavy, as if the air itself is too thick to draw in with neuvillette still inside him.
the next thrust lands with more weight—not faster, just more certain. the kind that tells him neuvillette has found exactly what he was looking for. even as the other coos from above, takes him in hand and urges him to rut up into his palm, wriothesley lets the force of neuvillette’s hips rock him forward and back until he’s bucking helplessly into that tight fist. he doesn’t know how long he stays like that—lost between blinks heavy with tears, between neuvillette slipping in and out of his vision—suspended on the edge until a twist of the wrist or a punishing grind breaks him open. his mouth falls slack, silent at first, before a choked groan claws its way out as his spine bows off the bed. ]
Neuvillette—
[ wriothesley’s voice fractures mid-syllable, stretched thin by the pressure coiled low in his belly. the pleasure isn’t rising in waves anymore; it’s winding tighter, sharper, demanding something he can’t hold back.
the last thrust isn’t faster or harder—just true. it glides directly along the swollen curve of his prostate, and that’s what finally tears the sound from him. his head tips back like it’s caught by an invisible thread as his body clamps down in rhythmic pulses. he trembles violently as the orgasm rips through him—blinding, all-consuming, focused entirely around that deep, unrelenting fullness. as the release rocks up his spine, stealing his breath, and wrenches something raw from his throat he’s never heard himself make. ]
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he's overwhelmed, gripping him tight and holding on to wriothesley, embracing him through the riptide of his own orgasm, keeping him anchored against him. he is completely lost in him, unable to register anything but the way their breaths mingle, how they pulse and pant in tandem with each other.
in this, they are one. neuvillette replays the raw, wrecked sounds he had torn from him, breaking wriothesley's composure into pieces only to put him back together again. this is trust in its truest form, where wriothesley allows neuvillette to bear witness to his most vulnerable moment, while sticky white seed is carelessly painted all over the canvas of their sweat-drenched bodies.
he can feel slow, stuttering pulses of himself, offering up the last bursts of his own ejaculate, filling him up even more, until warm seed is spilling out of his hole onto his thighs.
they're a mess — and he can't blame them; sex is always an incredibly messy affair. he nuzzles along the side of his face, nosing the tears he sees, and wiping the other with his thumb, gentle and tender. )
Better?
🎀 thnx for the practice bromie MWUAH