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