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Wriothesley smells like arousal and—
Neuvillette pauses. Tilts his face against his temple and breathes in deeply. He smells leather, sharp and earthy. The citrus of bergamot and a hint of the cream he takes his tea with. But then he catches another whiff of it, the barest traces of anxiety souring the desirous smell of Wriothesley’s want.
Curious. Wriothesley is underneath him all hot and bothered, hands tracing Neuvillette’s curves with solid steadfastness. He is eager, even, suckling at his neck, tracing the softness there with his fangs. But—
Neuvillette’s hand curls into Wriothesley’s coarse hair and tugs his face back. “Is everything alright?”
Wriothesley groans softly. “What? Yes?”
Neuvillette observes him, his gaze tracing the sharp angles of Wriothesley’s being; the curve of his throat on display, the handsome length of his shoulders pressed into the sheets. Each little scar, rigid and pocked, raised lines of gnarled flesh. Unbearably handsome. Neuvillette would swoon at the sight of him were it not for the creased line that mars his forehead.
“Beloved,” he says, tracing his thumb over the worry mark, “you smell… tense.” A diplomatic way of broaching the topic.
Wriothesley stills. His alpha flares slightly under his skin and the air fills with the acrid tang of annoyance—not at Neuvillette, but rather, himself. “I…”
Oh, what a dear thing. Neuvillette already has an inkling as to where this may go. And even though his instincts are begging him to soothe Wriothesley, he waits patiently, smoothing out that crease between his brows.
“It’s not really… anything important? I just—” Wriothesley gets tongue-tied as he thinks about his words. “Performance anxiety?”
Neuvillette tilts his head, curious. “Whatever for?”
Wriothesley swallows. He must know there is little merit to such worries but fear is a fickle thing. Instincts aren’t so easy to work through regardless of whether or not they want to. This entire process has been a matter of pushing their limits and figuring out what exactly works. Hitting a wall is to be expected.
“Mild teasing aside, surely you know there is nothing to worry about.” Neuvillette’s thumb drops to smooth over the scar cut into the space underneath Wriothesley’s eye.
“It isn’t like…” Wriothesley sighs, sinking into his pillow. “We have that need to satisfy, you know? Our alphas, they—well, typically it’s about self-gratification, right? That need to fulfill our pleasure as nature intends. But I want to please you, I want to…”
His gaze softens and he reaches up to brush a lock of Neuvillette’s hair behind a pointed ear. Oh. How warm, how sweet. Neuvillette’s chest clenches at the sight and feel of Wriothesley’s care.
“With you, it is about you. Shouldn’t I want to push you off? Turn you over and fuck you into the sheets? And you’d want that too—Gods, I know you do because the fight of it is natural. Needed, even. But…I just—there are times when I want to lay here and want you over me, and it makes that part of me feel broken.”
Neuvillette offers him a small curl of his mouth. “Those older, inescapable parts of ourselves are hard to overlook—and you know that I understand that. However, need I remind you that our natures do not define us? Hasn’t that been the entire point of our coming together? Wriothesley, if you want to lay underneath me, then do so.”
Wriothesley laughs, short and curt, caught between bewilderment and warmth. “Well, when put like that, it sounds simple, doesn’t it?”
“Tell me,” says Neuvillette as he presses a hand to his sternum, “do you like this?”
“Yes.” The answer is immediate and without hesitation.
Neuvillette leans over him until his hair hangs around Wriothesley’s face like a curtain. His alpha is comfortable, purring deeply in his chest. Even Wriothesley seems relaxed, relishing the closeness as his hands find Neuvillette’s waist to keep him there. They are both pleased, warm, content, even.
“And this?” he asks next, dragging his knuckles across the wide expanse of Wriothelsey’s chest. “Do you enjoy this as well?”
“It’s— nice.” More than nice, judging by the groan that tumbles from Wriothesley’s mouth.
“We are often slaves to our alpha brains, but you must remember that our pleasure is ours alone. No one else is allowed to judge our tastes. I too, wish to take care of you.” Neuvillette thumbs across a nipple and watches it stiffen in the cool air. “Shall I show you? Remind you of how good you are to me, and how I wish to be good for you in turn?”
Something shifts in Wriothesley’s gaze, then. It turns heated as he lays in the sheets. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. “I should be the one—”
Neuvillette taps his fingers against Wriothesley’s mouth. “Hush. There aren’t rules.”
“But expectations—”
“Are you an expected alpha?” Neuvillette clicks his tongue. “Do you remember what I asked you that night in your office?” Wriothesley’s gaze widens as Neuvillette dips closer to inhale his scent once again. Perfect. Oh, he could drown in it. Neuvillette chuckles into his ear. “‘Does it bother you that I’m unlike other alphas?’ is the question that I posed. And do you remember your answer?”
Wriothesley’s throat bobs against Neuvillette’s mouth as he trails his teeth across it. “‘Why wouldn’t you be different?” Wriothesley’s voice is soft but caught with arousal.
Neuvillette nibbles at the thin skin of his neck, teeth just barely digging in. Another alpha would growl. Another alpha would throw him off, or flip him over and wrestle him for dominance. Wriothesley, though—Wriothesley is lax in the bed, his head tilted back, the column of his throat on display. A plea for more, the sweetest submission, ripe with desire.
“Then why are you so keen to box yourself into those societal standards?”
“Because you’re— Oh, fuck.”
Neuvillette sinks his teeth into the juncture of his neck in shoulder, allowing himself one fleeting moment of aggression. Wriothesley’s hips rise, rolling against his. His cock is hard, leaking a mess all over his belly, and it takes everything for Neuvillette to not curl his hand around it. All in good time. He begs for wild instincts to be patient.
They waver, backing off into a slow-simmering passion instead. When he pulls off, Neuvillette licks the bite mark to soothe it with his tongue. “A rhetorical question,” he teases. “Now, as promised, let me ravish you.”
Wriothesley groans. “Why must you sound so antiquated? That’s just—” He falls silent when Neuvillette strokes his cock. It twitches in his hand, eager, flushed at the tip and no doubt aching. Wriothesley goes taut. Hesitant. “Are you going to… Should I roll over?”
Neuvillette blinks. He hasn’t fucked Wriothesley yet, and not for a lack of want, it just hasn’t been the natural progression of what they’ve shared together thus far. He wants, yes—but not right now. Neuvillette’s mouth curves into a dangerous smile.
“Beloved,” he murmurs, dragging his free hand down the expanse of Wriothesley’s chest, a mimic of his earlier actions. Neuvillette presses a kiss to his sweaty brow, lingering and sweet. “You’ve already opened me up on your fingers and left me wanting. No, I want to ride you until you forget all those worries.”
“Oh.” Wriothesley says it like he’s in awe, like he wasn’t sure, like he still can’t quite fathom that another alpha would want the control of guiding their pleasure, but still be on the receiving end. Nonsense—it’s all nonsense. Neuvillette will take him in every way possible, and is particularly fond of Wriothesley’s cock carving its way through his insides.
Hydro curls in Neuvillette’s palm wordlessly. He strokes Wriothesley’s length from base to tip, thumbing through the precome that drips from the slit. Then he brings his hand to his mouth for a taste, moaning at the salty tang that melts into his tongue.
Wriothesley is hyper-aware. He watches him carefully, closely, his fingers biting into Neuvillette’s hip bones. But he is not tense. He is not wary or afraid, he is raptured as he takes in the sight and feel of Neuvillette. “Gods,” he curses, his voice drawn thin.
Even with the careful preparation, it stings. Wriothesley’s fingers are perfect—thick and long, and he knows how to use them. Even so, his cock is generous and alphas do not slick naturally, nor are they designed to take something so easily. Still.
It feels divine. Neuvillette sinks to the root, moaning as Wriothesley’s cock is lodged deep. He braces himself with a hand against Wriothesley’s stomach, tracing the dips between his muscles.
“Look,” says Neuvillette, palming his own aching cock. “See how I do not care? See how I ache for more?” The tip of his length is hard and leaking, and Neuvillette smears the precome around the tip. Then he rolls his hips, rising a fraction before falling again.
Slow and steady. It always takes a moment to get where they want, but Neuvillette is more than happy to drag it out, feeling the way that Wriothesley spears him open, carving deep. Later, they’ll fuck like mad men, all teeth and claws, the way that alphas should.
Neuvillette’s chest rumbles in satisfaction. “Yes,” he mutters, groaning as moves, driving that cock right where he wants it.
Wriothesley squirms underneath him. Not in discomfort, but want. He smells delicious, the sharpness of leather cut by spicy arousal. Neuvillette itches to bite but holds himself back, fucking against him instead. “Good boy,” he says. “You always feel so good.”
“I—”
“So big. Mmnh. You were made for me, no?”
Wriothesley swallows. Oh, that look. Caught and rapturous. Wriothesley looks like he wants to devour him and Neuvillette would let him. They’d make a game of it as they teeter back and forth. And they’d fall into bed as they always do, trading their bickering for lingering touches and teeth against skin.
Neuvillette’s gaze drops to where Wriothesley’s throat bobs and for a moment, his alpha begs him to give in to his instincts. He leans forward, bracing himself on an elbow, shoving his face into Wriothesley’s neck. “Beloved,” he whispers, nipping at the juncture of his neck and jaw.
Wriothesley’s hand curls into his hair, gripping it tightly to hold him there. Neuvillette laughs, nipping at his throat, a touch too close to his scent gland for most. But, Wriothesley isn’t like other alphas. Neither of them are—and that’s the point, isn’t it? Wriothesley moans, baring his neck, asking for more.
“So perfect.” Neuvillette kisses that swollen gland. There is no tension, no hesitation. Wriothesley just holds his neck there and ruts against him. Neuvillette cups his cheek and presses their foreheads together. He rolls his hips against every grind of Wriothesley’s cock. “And you were worried,” he continues. “Wriothesley, how could you be worried when you make me like this?”
Wriothesley kisses him. Tips his face up and captures Neuvillette’s mouth with his own. It lacks the fire it usually does, sweet instead as his tongue slips into his mouth. He tastes like tea, and Neuvillette thinks that this might be the death of him.
There is a desperate need to claim Wriothesley; not in a fight for dominance, but just as a claim. Never has he wanted another so viscerally. Patience, he thinks. There is plenty of time to explore their odds and ends, to parade around the court with arms locked together, uncaring of the stares. Right now, Wriothesley needs him; his comfort and sweet praise, and the tight heat of his ass.
“Handsome.” Neuvillette chuckles as he leans back, watching Wriothesley through a half-lidded gaze.
“I’m—”
“Don’t refute it. Don’t deny me the pleasure of praising you. Also—” Neuvillette tugs Wriothesley’s hand to his cock. “Touch me, please.”
Wriothesley’s hand is deliciously calloused, scarred from years of bouts in the ring. He strokes his length from base to tip, and Neuvillette finds it hard to keep his thoughts straight. A smirk spreads across Wriothesley’s face. He finally finds his voice and asks, “Are you close?”
Yes. Yes. The angle is perfect. Wriothesley’s cock slides deep, nailing his prostate. Neuvillette moves faster as the heat coils tighter in his gut. He moans, choking out an affirmative. Wriothesley’s hand is tight around his dick, jerking it in time. He bucks, meeting Neuvillette on every downstroke, hips slapping against his ass.
Neuvillette whines when Wriothesley lets go of his length. His fingers curl into Neuvillette’s hair and tug his face back, and this time, it’s his turn to bite at his neck. “Do you think you can come like this? From my cock alone?”
What a dangerous game. Neuvillette snarls as Wriothesley’s teeth sink into his flesh, just shy of where he wants it. And yes— yes he can. Wriothesley’s cock hits all the right places.
Neuvillette leans back and Wriothesley lets him, sinking into the sheets. This angle is deeper. Neuvillette braces himself with a hand against Wriothesley’s stomach, knees aching with his weight. “Deep,” he says, then. “So deep, so—” A gratuitous moan tumbles from his lips as he grinds down.
Wriothsely’s hands fly to his hips, claws sinking into the soft skin there. He guides him, helps him move, and watches as Neuvillette does most of the work. The room is quiet save for the slick slap of their skin and heated breaths. Neuvillette’s cock twitches, dripping precome from the tip, making a mess.
“Would you take my knot?”
Neuvillette stills, shuddering. Oh, what a delicious, newfound thought. The pressure would be exquisite, being stretched to his limit. Plus, the emotional aspect of it, the neediness involved—alphas don’t just randomly pop knots. It would take time. Effort. Generous thoughts and feelings involved. Wriothesley would brush his bangs back and whisper sweet nothings as he rocked the thick bulge into him.
Wriothesley stares back with pupils blown wide. He licks his lips. “Gods, you would—wouldn’t you?”
“You know my tastes. I love taking your cock, so why not your knot?” And even if it’s all talk, Neuvillette imagines it all the same, reaching around behind him, pressing his fingers to where they’re connected, rim is stretched smooth around Wriothesley’s dick.
He moves quicker, faster, fucking back against Wriothesley as he chases his end. Untouched. Neuvillette can manage. He’s so close that he can taste it, the pleasure in his gut bubbling to his throat. His alpha doesn’t roar, it begs for it, his scent sharp and sweet in the air.
“Like that,” says Neuvillette, drunk on the sight of Wriothesley below him. “Just like that. What a good alpha.”
Wriothesley makes a strangled noise. His fingers are so tight around Neuvillette’s hips that they’ll bruise. A whimper. The flare of his nostrils as he drowns in the smell of Neuvillette’s arousal. He looks absolutely divine.
Neuvillette comes suddenly, his orgasm slamming into him, painting Wriothesley’s stomach white with his spend.
Wriothsely curses and pulls him close, an arm slung around his waist. His palm splays against the small of Neuvillette's back. Wriothesley presses his nose against Neuvillette’s temple, inhaling deeply. “Fuck, you smell so good.”
He fucks Neuvillette through his orgasm, dragging him beyond the edge. Wriothesley’s fangs drag down the length of his jaw and the apple of his throat. Then Neuvillette’s scent gland. He moans against it, his breath hot. “Baby.” He says it so softly, so sweetly. His thrusts lose their rhythm. Wriothesley nibbles at that gland, licking over the swollen spot.
Neuvillette’s alpha just rolls over and heels, desperate for the attention. “More,” he begs. “More, I want more.” His cock twitches again and Neuvillette takes hold of it, desperate to come for a second time.
Wriothesley’s face is red. He thrusts hard, yanking Neuvillette onto him, driving his cock deep. Again, and then again. Neuvillette hangs over him, foreheads pressed together. He praises him and tells Wriothesley that he’s perfect and a good alpha. “Just like this, just the two of us.”
“Yeah.” Wriothesley’s voice is raspy and gone. He spills so easily, hot and scalding.
Neuvillette’s chest rumbles as he strokes himself to a second little death. His thighs tremble as the feel of it crashes through him. And Wriothesley—Wriothesley clings to him, nuzzling every inch of sweaty skin that he can find. He still mouths at him, like a toddler teething, intent on marking him up.
The air is charged. This slow and they relax in hazy pleasure. Neuvillette’s face rests against the line of Wriothesley’s shoulder. Wriothesley pets his spine, tracing the notches.
Eventually, Wriothesley speaks. “Neuvillette?” He still rubs circles against Neuvillette’s back and his cock has softened, still lodged inside.
Neuvillette groans as he lifts. His hair is loose and wild, framing their faces. “Do you feel better?”
He expects laughter. Perhaps a chuckle. A silly grin as Wriothesley turns sheepish and teasing. But Wriothesley is quiet as he just gives him a thoughtful expression. He reaches up and tucks a lock of Neuvillette’s hair behind his ear, chasing the point of it.
“Yeah,” he says. A moment passes. “I—look, it’s not…”
“There is no blueprint for what makes an alpha . I know those instincts that rage through you, but I also know that they don’t want a bow-legged omega. And neither do I, for the record. Surely that speaks volumes. There is nothing to worry about, be it here, in private, or even out there.”
Because who would care? No one does so far and they are the worst-kept secret in Fontaine.
Wriothesley sighs, his expression fond. He thumbs across Neuvillette’s lip, and says, “I want to kiss you.”
Neuvillette laughs, feeling the skin around his eyes wrinkle. There is never a need to ask, but he knows that Wriothesley will when feeling vulnerable and unsure. It is less tense. He no longer reeks of worry or anxiety, just the sweet tang of comfort, and Neuvillette’s alpha churrs in response.
He dips close, brushing their noses together. Drags his knuckles over Wriothesley’s cheekbone before cupping his face. It is the least that Neuvillette can do to humor him, he thinks, as he closes the distance.