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“Have you considered again the possibility of acquiring a pet?” Neuvillette asks.
Wriothesley startles, surprised. It’s not as if Neuvillette hasn’t always done this, picking up little things that Wriothesley has said here and there, hanging on to them intently to bring up at a later date. Neuvillette knows all of Wriothesley’s favorite teas, all his favorite music; he serves the former and plays the latter when their meetings run late into the night, as this one has done. The Fortress of Meropide might be autonomous, but coordinating with the Palais Mermonia makes Wriothesley’s job significantly easier. And, well, Neuvillette is easy to work with.
“Truthfully, I haven’t thought about it that much,” Wriothesley admits, tapping a knuckle to his chin. “Seems like a whole lot of hassle, moving from Meropide to the overworld.”
Neuvillette tips his head to the side, studying Wriothesley in that unnervingly attentive way of his. “As a duke, I believe you would find the process considerably less painful than you’re anticipating.”
“You think?” Wriothesley sprawls in his chair, reaching for the cup of tea on the edge of Neuvillette’s desk. He takes a sip of it, pensive.
“And with the prophecy’s passing, as you once said, the market for investment is much better.”
Wriothesley’s lips quirk. It really is remarkable what Neuvillette remembers him saying. Shit, it’s more than Wriothesley himself remembers. “You make a fair point. The cost, though…”
“Significant considerations will be made for your title,” Neuvillette says. “Not, I think, that you require much assistance in such an area.”
Every time. Neuvillette pins him to the wall every godsdamn time, just nailing him in place with a thinly veiled truth. Wriothesley is, of course, filthy rich, but he does his best not to flaunt it—or even imply it. But nothing gets by Neuvillette.
Coughing, slightly embarrassed, Wriothesley takes another sip of his tea. “I suppose it’d be nice. I miss weather.”
Neuvillette chuckles. “I believe you would be able to find a home large enough to accommodate any pet of your choosing.”
“A sumpter beast, then,” Wriothesley says dryly.
Neuvillette hesitates. “Perhaps not so large as that.”
It’s funny, sometimes, what Neuvillette catches as a joke and what he takes literally. Wriothesley sets his tea aside as he leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees. “I’ll think about it, but I wouldn’t even know where to start looking. There are plenty of—”
Neuvillette hands Wriothesley a folded broadsheet, and Wriothesley, baffled, takes it, flipping it open. His brows lift.
“These are homes in areas most befitting a duke,” Neuvillette says, folding his hands across the surface of his desk. Indeed, the pages Neuvillette has passed to him are like some kind of classifieds but for houses, and Neuvillette has circled a very small handful of them. “I am happy to answer questions about the different neighborhoods, should you have them. For instance, the Vasari Passage is most befitting a bachelor, and so you might find more interesting evening activities there.”
Wriothesley’s brows climb higher. Neuvillette’s too polite to be implying anything untoward, but his mind takes a sharp turn at evening activities and suddenly he can’t help but imagine him and the Chief Justice alone in some private club’s backroom, sharing expensive brandy with their heads bowed together and—
Except that, as he knows, is patently ridiculous.
“Evening activities, huh?” he drawls.
Neuvillette, oblivious, continues on, extolling the virtues of the various areas in which Wriothesley might choose to live. Wriothesley makes a few kneejerk decisions, mentally crossing out two of the townhomes Neuvillette has indicated, and realizes, quite abruptly, that even though he hasn’t agreed to this he’s pretty much accepted that it’s going to happen. He’s going to move to the surface—and instead of being nervous about it, he’s tentatively excited. Maybe that’s Neuvillette’s fault.
Lowering the broadsheets, Wriothesley watches Neuvillette talk, a smile playing across his lips. As taciturn and distant as Neuvillette can be toward so many people, his excitement right now is, if understated, more than obvious to Wriothesley.
“So,” Wriothesley says in a rare moment when Neuvillette takes a breath. “Who do I talk to if I want to make this happen?”
Neuvillette’s expression does something strange, softening and brightening at the same time. “I will put you in contact with an estate agent immediately.”
“Most obliged, Monsieur,” Wriothesley says, inclining his head.
A week later, Wriothesley has toured five townhomes in various parts of the city with the help of a Melusine estate agent who is downright bizarre about the whole situation. She’s at once extremely excited for him and clearly eager to help, but she points out problems with every townhome they tour, and he’s not sure if that’s because she’s good at her job or because she has an angle. He doesn’t think she has an angle, she strikes him as too genuine for that, but no townhome they look at is good enough for him, even though his own standards are considerably lower than hers.
“I really just need a roof,” he tells her as they approach the sixth home in an area that he’s pretty sure is too fancy for him, even if he’s a duke.
“You say that now,” Etoile says cheerfully, skipping alongside him. “But a man like you—” He doesn’t know how to take that. “—won’t be satisfied with a one bedroom with no backyard.” He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that’s pretty much what he has now and he’s more than satisfied with it.
But, well, maybe he hasn’t been truly satisfied. He rolled with the dingy apartment because he hadn’t thought he had cause to pursue anything better. Now, though, as he turns the corner of a well-to-do street, he kind of wonders if he can’t do better. If it isn’t okay to let himself have more.
“So,” he says. “What’s this place’s story?”
Etoile launches into the history of the townhome as they approach it—the second unit on the street, right next to the (considerably) more expensive corner townhome. It’s the first they’ve seen with more than a foot of clearance between itself and its neighbors, which Wriothesley appreciates. More privacy for him. The front garden is neatly kept despite the building being empty and doesn’t look like it’ll take too much for him to maintain himself, not that he knows the first thing about lawncare.
“Neighbors?” he asks Etoile between one breath and the next.
She points at the third townhome. “An older, retired couple,” she says. “They split their time between the Court and a country home, so you won’t see them in the winter at all, but they’re quiet and polite.” She indicates the corner unit, eyes bright. “And that one is owned by a hardworking gentleman who isn’t home too often.”
That sounds more than ideal. Neighbors who are barely around won’t be particularly nosy, and that’s been his biggest concern in the other neighborhoods they’ve looked at so far. Most people won’t complain about living next door to a duke, but society has mixed reactions to him. Some people want to court his attention for his title, but plenty are put off by his history and his occupation. After all, no good duke does something so gauche as working.
Etoile leads him through the front garden and opens the door into a brightly lit foyer. “This building was renovated just two years ago,” she explains, “so everything is pretty much new! New floors—” The hardwood gleams. “—new fixtures, better insulation in the walls, and the whole place is wired for electricity.”
Stepping deeper into the foyer, Wriothesley peers down the front hall. The place is built like most Fontainian townhomes, with a similar layout to ones he’s already seen, but everything feels bigger, airier, and instead of turning him off, he finds he likes the space. When he breathes, the walls don’t close in on him like they do in the Fortress. And the natural light—which Etoile is currently extoling in what sounds like poetic verse—makes the whole townhome bright and open and welcoming.
He moves into the front parlor, standing in the middle of it, and something settles in his chest.
“How’s the kitchen?” he asks.
Etoile beams. “Also recently redone, Your Grace. It’s state of the art, so your staff—” He has no intention of hiring staff, even for a place this big. “—won’t have any problems with it. Would you like to see?”
They mosey through the first floor and up to the second and then the third, but Wriothesley has already made up his mind.
“This one,” he tells Etoile as they stand in the master suite after their walkthrough. The bay windows at the front of the room open onto the tree-lined boulevard, and he can see the Palais Mermonia in the distance. “This is the one.”
She beams at him. “It’s perfect,” she agrees, and it’s only several weeks later, when he’s signing the final property deed, that he realizes she had nothing bad to say about the property.
Buying a house, Wriothesley decides, is great. Moving into that house, on the other hand, sucks. He barely has anything to his name except his clothes and a few shelves of books—everything else in his apartment in Meropide belongs there—but even the few boxes he brings to the surface are a pain in his ass.
But maybe this is so bad because he has to take a few days off work just to receive all his new furniture. Every piece that arrives surprises him. He’d ordered a single couch for the parlor before losing his patience with the whole process right before a meeting with Sigewinne. She’d volunteered to help, and he, trusting her, had turned the entire project over to her.
She did a good job. He likes everything she’s ordered, all of it simple and understated but clearly of fine craftsmanship, and so his surprise is pleasant enough.
By the end of the second day, he has fully furnished house including a bed to sleep in, and he’s got enough food to get him by, even if it’s all canned, and he’s sweaty and shirtless from unpacking, but he feels good about it all.
The doorbell rings.
“Fuck,” he mutters, glancing at the clock in his parlor. He’s just finished moving the last chair in place and has plans for the rest of the evening (more unpacking) that don’t include new neighbors saying hello. The older couple to his one side came by earlier, when he’d had the energy for people, and they’d been kind enough to bring him a roast and potatoes, so they’d earned more of his regard for it. Now, though, it’s late and he’s tired and he doesn’t want to pretend to be nice.
His shirt is lost to the boxes, so he foregoes it as he goes to the door and opens it, fully prepared to politely turn away this neighbor.
Neuvillette stands on his front step, wearing not his robes of office but a polite evening suit.
“Uh,” Wriothesley says, brain skidding to an abrupt halt, incapable of processing any of what he’s seeing. The suit is weird enough, but he can’t put together why Neuvillette is on his front stoop.
There’s an awkward silence between them as Neuvillette stares back at him, because surely Neuvillette wasn’t expecting to see Wriothesley here, either. Surely Neuvillette is just as taken aback. Surely Neuvillette isn’t raking his gaze over Wriothesley’s naked chest and then jerking his eyes back to Wriothesley’s own before plastering a congenial expression on his face to mask what must be horrified surprise.
Neuvillette inclines his head. “Neighbor,” he says. “I must beg your pardon in not coming by sooner to extend my greetings to you.”
“Neighbor?” Wriothesley croaks.
Neuvillette gestures toward the corner unit. “My home,” he says. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I have come at a bad time.”
At which point Wriothesley realizes he’s half naked on one of the nicest streets in the Court and heat floods his face. “No, no, I—” He has no idea what to do. “Come in?” he asks, panicking and extending the invitation because it’s the polite thing to do.
“Of course. Thank you,” Neuvillette says, and he steps inside Wriothesley’s house like that’s a perfectly normal thing for him to do.
And it is.
Normal.
Because Wriothesley extended the invitation. Like a normal person. But a normal person wouldn’t be shirtless while accepting a guest to visit, but instead of panicking about that, Wriothesley realizes he doesn’t have anything to offer Neuvillette except the roast from Florent and Jeannette.
“I…”
Neuvillette has already turned toward Wriothesley’s parlor. “It’s so nice to see everything coming together nicely,” he says, and Wriothesley’s brain shuts down again.
“It is?” he asks, stupefied.
Neuvillette nods, gliding into the parlor and running his hand along the back of the couch. Wriothesley follows the movement of that hand like a man parched. “Sigewinne communicated to me that you were somewhat overwhelmed making all the necessary purchases. She enlisted my help in acquiring your remaining furnishings.” He pauses on the far side of the parlor, and Wriothesley hovers in the doorway, not sure what to do with himself.
“You… you bought all of this?”
“No,” Neuvillette replies. “You did.” At Wriothesley’s bewildered expression, he chuckles. “That is, your accounts were charged for the purchases, but I did aide in each piece’s selection. I hope you don’t find me to have overstepped.”
Wriothesley stares at his furniture, so perfectly tailored to his own tastes, and his brain slowly starts to work. “But Sigewinne did most of the work, right?” He already knows the answer.
A delicate flush spreads across Neuvillette’s pale face. “She was a helpful assistant.”
Which is Neuvillette’s polite way of saying he handpicked all these pieces for Wriothesley.
“Are you settling in well enough?” Neuvillette asks.
Wriothesley stays in the doorway, oblivious, now, to his own state of undress and reeling from the revelation that Neuvillette knows him so well. That, somehow, throughout their many conversations over the past few years, Neuvillette has learned enough of him to intuit his tastes. From anyone else, he would find such actions far too intimate. From Neuvillette…
“Well enough,” Wriothesley says.
Neuvillette picked out that bookshelf, those chairs, that coffee table. Neuvillette picked out his dining room set, his study’s desk, his dressers, his bed. Wriothesley’s heart stutters, and he wonders if Neuvillette went to a store, if Neuvillette touched the frame, if Neuvillette ran his fingers along the headboard the way he ran his fingers over the back of the couch.
Shaking himself, Wriothesley gestures toward the kitchen. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to offer you.” And then he remembers how undressed he is. “I—forgive me, I’m not exactly set up to receive guests.”
Neuvillette’s gaze dips. “No,” he says, voice low and—and throaty? “I have inconvenienced you, of course.” He makes his way across the parlor, toward Wriothesley, who still fills the doorway. “Please, allow me to depart and return to you your evening. You are certainly busy, and I—”
Wriothesley doesn’t move as Neuvillette stops before him. “You what, Monsieur?” Wriothesley asks.
“I have become an inconvenience, though that was not my intent.” Neuvillette looks up at him, eyes limpid and soft, and Wriothesley’s heart does that same thing it did when he stepped into this parlor for the first time.
Having Neuvillette in his home like this feels right. “You could never be an inconvenience.” But Neuvillette is the Chief Justice, and while Wriothesley might be a duke, he’s so far away from everything that Neuvillette is.
A faint smile curves Neuvillette’s lips. “Perhaps I could inconvenience you a little longer.”
Wriothesley’s heart pounds. His breath catches, and he doesn’t know quite what to say to that except that he knows he can’t say nothing. “Perhaps you could,” he offers, which is probably the most insipid and useless response.
“Perhaps I will, then,” Neuvillette says, and he steps closer, steps into Wriothesley’s body. His gloved fingertips alight on Wriothesley’s chest, and Wriothesley’s entire body shudders. Neuvillette lifts himself onto his toes, just enough, cants his head to the side and touches his mouth to Wriothesley’s.
Wriothesley can remember every defining moment of his life with perfect clarity. The moment his parents stopped breathing. The hammer of Neuvillette’s cane accompanying Wriothesley’s conviction. Receiving his Vision. Becoming Administrator of the Fortress. This, too, will be counted among those moments. The soft warmth of Neuvillette’s lips against his, the gentle gust of his breath, the light weight of his fingertips, the slide of his silk gloves as they glide up, up, up, over Wriothesley’s shoulders.
And then Wriothesley’s hands are on Neuvillette’s waist and the small of his back, and he’s pulling Neuvillette closer, and his mouth slants against Neuvillette’s to return that sweet kiss with one of his own.
Against his mouth, Neuvillette gasps, and Wriothesley can’t help but take advantage of that. He urges Neuvillette backwards, pushing him against the threshold, and sinks his tongue past Neuvillette’s lips.
Neuvillette’s fingers clutch Wriothesley’s shoulders, and Wriothesley fits his hips into the cradle of Neuvillette’s, grinding lazily into him as they trade slow, easy kisses. The entire moment is too charged to be surreal or fantastical, but Wriothesley still can’t quite believe his tongue is in Neuvillette’s mouth, that he’s licking between those full lips to taste crisp spring water. Can’t quite believe Neuvillette is making those soft, aching sounds against his lips as they grind against each other.
Sliding his hand up Neuvillette’s side, he cups Neuvillette’s jaw. His thumb brushes against the corner of Neuvillette’s mouth, and he groans. He’s spent so many late nights palming his cock to the impossible fantasy of having Neuvillette, and now Neuvillette is in his house, pressed against his parlor doorframe, kissing him. It’s real and it’s wonderful, and it’s so much better than anything he could’ve imagined.
Breathless, he breaks away from Neuvillette’s mouth with a little laugh. “Quite a way to greet your neighbor,” Wriothesley says.
“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette says, and the sound of his name on Neuvillette’s lips is a physical caress. “I do not think I can make it any clearer to you that I have no desire to merely be your neighbor.”
Wriothesley laughs again, cradling Neuvillette’s face in one hand. He rocks against Neuvillette’s growing hardness, his own cock filling at a disorienting pace, and bends his head to bite at Neuvillette’s lips. “Was this all a ploy, then? Get me to move in next to you so that you could seduce me?” He’d be pissed if it was anyone else.
The look on Neuvillette’s face is the most patient annoyance that Wriothesley has ever seen, and it’s enough for him to draw back with confusion.
“What?”
“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette says, grabbing him by the back of his neck and forcing him down, their mouths scant inches apart. “Wriothesley, I have been trying, unsuccessfully, to seduce you for at least five years.”
“I—What?”
“For a smart man, you can be exceptionally blind to the truth,” Neuvillette continues, more amused now as he arches his back to rock his cock against Wriothesley’s own.
Wriothesley swears, dropping his forehead against Neuvillette’s, panting. His cock aches as it fills, and his ability to think is rapidly deteriorating. He wants Neuvillette in his bed—in the bed he’s never slept in, in the bed that Neuvillette picked out for him.
“I have wanted you for so very long. And I had planned a slow seduction over our fences, but then you opened the door like this.”
A smile curves Wriothesley’s lips. “Shirtless and sweaty?”
“And incredibly distracting.” Neuvillette groans, too, as his hips move against Wriothesley’s. “Wriothesley.”
“So, I’ve been very stupid for a very long time.” Wriothesley slicks his tongue along Neuvillette’s lower lip, and Neuvillette makes a noise in the back of his throat that has Wriothesley’s cock twitching, has pleasure coalescing at the base of his spine. “How can I ever make it up to you?”
Neuvillette pants, threading his fingers through Wriothesley’s hair and urging their mouths back together. “You are a very smart man,” Neuvillette reminds him, and then they’re kissing again, and this time it isn’t soft or sweet. It’s hard and demanding, their tongues in each other’s mouths as they grind together, as they move against each other, as they try to devour each other in the space between one room and another, between their old lives and the new life opening up before them.
Dragging his hands down Neuvillette’s sides, Wriothesley grabs him by the thighs, hoisting him up. Neuvillette’s long legs wrap around his waist as Neuvillette gasps, as Neuvillette moans, as light flickers down the lengths of his rhinophores.
“Good?” Wriothesley asks between kisses.
“Very,” Neuvillette breathes in reply, clutching at Wriothesley’s shoulders.
Wriothesley pulls him away from the wall. “If I were to make this up to you,” he says, walking toward the stairs. The upstairs is dark, but the glow from Neuvillette’s rhinophores and eyes is more than enough. “If I were to make this up to you, does that mean me sucking you off until you beg me to fuck you?”
The sound Neuvillette makes is obscene. He dips his head, capturing Wriothesley’s mouth in a fierce kiss, tightening his legs around Wriothesley’s hips, and Wriothesley has to turn them to the wall halfway up the stairs to keep from tumbling down them. He fucks against Neuvillette’s hard cock with his own through their pants as Neuvillette’s gloved hands wander his shoulders, his arms, as Neuvillette’s tongue slicks into his mouth to taste and cajole and play with his own.
Their mouths come together hard and hungry, lips parting on aching gasps and needy moans. Only when Wriothesley’s legs start to tremble does he pull Neuvillette away from the wall to take the last few steps, to hurry down the largely unfurnished upstairs hallway to his bedroom, to his bed.
He tumbles Neuvillette onto it as Neuvillette kicks off his dress shoes, rolling them until Neuvillette is astride him in the center of the bed. He arches his hips, grinding into Neuvillette’s ass, and Neuvillette’s head falls back as he moans long and low. In the low light of dusk, with the curtains half drawn and Neuvillette aglow with his pleasure, he looks ethereal, inhuman. But, then, he isn’t human, and there’s something about that, about knowing he’s about to fuck the Hydro Dragon Sovereign, that gets Wriothesley even harder, that makes him want even more.
Reaching up, he pushes free the buttons of Neuvillette’s jacket, and Neuvillette shrugs out of it to toss it aside. Together, they work at Neuvillette’s cravat and waistcoat, stripping both away. Wriothesley is panting, is still grinding into Neuvillette’s ass as they turn to his shirt, and he groans as Neuvillette finally slides that down the length of his arms, revealing the smooth plains of his lightly muscled abdomen. For a man who spends most of his time behind a desk, he is well built and beautiful, and Wriothesley surges upward.
Holding Neuvillette by the waist, he fastens his lips around one of Neuvillette’s nipples. Neuvillette cries out, bowing over Wriothesley’s head and driving his fingers into Wriothesley’s hair. “Beloved,” he gasps, and that’s the most revealing thing he’s ever said, even more than his admission that he’s been pining for half a decade.
And, too, Wriothesley’s heart thunders in his chest, pounding against his ribcage with a force that is only partially to do with the passion of the moment. He’s fisted his own cock to fantasies of Neuvillette for years but always understood his place in society compared to the untouchable Iudex. Neuvillette’s flirtations never registered with him because he never allowed them past his barriers. But Neuvillette has clearly wanted—and wanted more—for so long.
Gently, Wriothesley catches Neuvillette’s nipple with his teeth, bearing down until Neuvillette makes a broken, aching sound, until Neuvillette is grinding hard onto Wriothesley’s cock, until Neuvillette is moaning Wriothesley’s name, and isn’t that a fucking dream come true.
“Beloved,” Neuvillette gasps again. “Beloved, I have—I would like to—to use my mouth to—”
Wriothesley rocks forward, carefully taking Neuvillette to the bed beneath him. “How about this?” Wriothesley laves Neuvillette’s nipple as he works a hand between their bodies, as Neuvillette chokes on another moan. “How about I make up for years of being oblivious for tonight.” His hand finds Neuvillette’s trousers, and he makes short work of the fly, anticipation churning in his belly as his knuckles brush the hard line of Neuvillette’s cock. “And tomorrow night, you can fulfill whatever fantasies you’ve had about us on my body, yeah?”
Neuvillette groans, burying his fingers in Wriothesley’s hair. “Tomorrow?” he asks, breathless, as Wriothesley slides his hand into Neuvillette’s pants and wraps his fingers around the hard line of his cock. A broken sound catches in Neuvillette’s throat, and he bucks into Wriothesley’s hand.
“Tomorrow,” Wriothesley promises him. “And any other night you want it.” He shifts up Neuvillette’s body, leaning over him as he starts a slow, easy rhythm with his fist wrapped around Neuvillette’s cock. “Sound good?”
Neuvillette stares at him with wide eyes. “You would take me to your bed again?”
“Sweetness,” Wriothesley says, revealing his own fantasies and foolishness, “I’d keep you in my bed if you’d let me.”
Neuvillette trembles beneath him, hips rolling as Wriothesley pulls his hand over his cock, as Wriothesley thumbs the damp tip and coaxes gasping little moans from him. “I would,” he manages. “Let you.”
A wicked grin blooms on Wriothesley’s face. “Don’t make that promise too soon.” Bending down, he presses a soft kiss to each corner of Neuvillette’s mouth before taking his lips in a hungry, demanding kiss.
His tongue slips into Neuvillette’s mouth, fucking between his lips like Wriothesley wants to fuck between his thighs. The hardness of Neuvillette in his hand, the softness of him against his tongue, they’re both so good, and Wriothesley can’t stop himself from grinding into Neuvillette’s thigh as he strokes him, as he works him closer and closer to the edge of an orgasm that one of them most certainly wants.
Neuvillette pulls away from their kiss to throw back his head, one still-gloved hand dragging down Wriothesley’s back. “Please.”
Thumbing the head of his cock, Wriothesley hums thoughtfully. Watching Neuvillette is wildly arousing, is wickedly erotic, and he’s not inclined to stop. No, he has years to make up for—for both of them. “Not yet,” he says, pressing a softer kiss to Neuvillette’s temple.
Releasing Neuvillette’s cock—Neuvillette mewls with disappointment and frustration—Wriothesley pushes Neuvillette’s pants down his legs, and Neuvillette kicks them off. Naked except for his gloves, he’s sprawled on Wriothesley’s bed, glorious and glowing, pristine and beautiful in every possible way, his cock arching over his belly in a hard, wet line.
“Look at you,” Wriothesley murmurs, leaning back so he can take in the sight of Neuvillette’s naked body. He doubts anyone has ever taught Neuvillette shame, because Neuvillette arches under Wriothesley’s hungry gaze, wanton and pleading. He drops his hands over his head, elongating his body as he strips off his gloves, and then he’s truly naked.
Settling on his knees between Neuvillette’s thighs, Wriothesley runs his hands down Neuvillette’s sides, letting his fingers strum over the ladder of Neuvillette’s ribs. “Beautiful.”
Neuvillette thrums.
“Intoxicating.”
Neuvillette purrs.
“I’m going to put my mouth all over you.” Wriothesley bends over Neuvillette, kissing his sternum, his abdomen. He traces lines of muscle with the tip of his tongue as he lays himself out between Neuvillette’s naked thighs. Neuvillette, with whining little sounds, grinds himself against Wriothesley’s stomach and then his chest.
And then, gasping with realization, sinks his hands into Wriothesley’s hair. “Yes,” he says, spreading his legs wider. “Yes, yes, Wriothesley, I—”
Wriothesley licks Neuvillette from base to tip, and the sound that Neuvillette makes goes right to Wriothesley’s cock. He grinds himself into the bed as he swirls his tongue around the crown of Neuvillette’s cock, lapping up the precum beading on his tip. Bitter, salty, absolutely perfect because it’s Neuvillette, he groans and parts his lips and takes Neuvillette into his mouth.
Another obscene sound falls from Neuvillette’s lips as Neuvillette bends like a bowstring beneath him. “Beloved,” he says, breathless, gasping.
Wriothesley hums with satisfaction, pleased to be pleasing his lover, and that thought, too, makes his cock throb even harder as he rocks against the bed. There’s no relief in it, only a mounting need that drives him to suck Neuvillette deeper between his lips.
Neuvillette’s cock is a generous size, and Wriothesley is out of practice; he hasn’t fucked anyone since becoming the Administrator of the Fortress. What he can’t swallow down, he strokes with one hand, letting saliva slick the length of Neuvillette’s cock.
Beneath him, Neuvillette gasps and whines. He tugs at Wriothesley’s hair, urging him on and leaving Wriothesley with the distinct impression he wants to fuck Wriothesley’s mouth. So he lets his throat go slack, lets Neuvillette drive deep with a broken little cry. The head of Neuvillette’s cock hits his soft palate, and Wriothesley viciously suppresses his gag reflex—and he’s rewarded with the sweetest moan he’s ever heard.
“Don’t want to hurt you,” Neuvillette whispers, nails scratching through Wriothesley’s hair.
Wriothesley pulls off Neuvillette’s cock, nuzzling against it, squeezing rhythmically around the base of it to keep Neuvillette interested, and smiles. “Sweetness, you won’t. If you want to fuck my mouth, you can.”
A needy little sound catches in Neuvillette’s throat.
“C’mere, then,” Wriothesley says, sitting between Neuvillette’s legs. “Straddle my lap on your knees.”
Neuvillette pushes himself up and eases onto his knees before sliding forward. “Like this?” His hair falls around them as he kneels in front of Wriothesley, his cock just about level with Wriothesley’s face when Wriothesley reclines.
“Perfect.” Wriothesley presses a kiss to Neuvillette’s hip before biting lightly on the jutting bone, pulling a gasp from Neuvillette, making Neuvillette’s hips jerk. He turns his face, running his lips along Neuvillette’s hard cock, slick from his earlier attentions, and Neuvillette shudders.
Parting his lips, Wriothesley takes Neuvillette into his mouth once more, swallowing around him. His hands brush over Neuvillette’s trembling thighs, curving over his ass, and he gives Neuvillette a gentle swat, barely anything, to make his hips jerk forward. He’s ready for it when Neuvillette’s cock pushes down his throat, but he’s not ready for the reedy, aching sound that Neuvillette makes, so sweet that his cock jerks in his pants.
Wriothesley drops one hand so he can grind the heel of his palm into his aching cock as Neuvillette’s cock glides over his tongue. Long fingers sink into his hair, and Neuvillette moves in slow, shallow thrusts as he fucks into Wriothesley’s mouth. It’s good, it’s so good to give Neuvillette this pleasure, to hear the sounds Neuvillette makes.
As Neuvillette fucks slowly into Wriothesley’s mouth, Wriothesley pushes the fingers of his free hand between the globes of Neuvillette’s ass. Neuvillette keens, hips jerking forward, driving his cock deeper down Wriothesley’s throat, but Wriothesley is paying more attention to Neuvillette than his own comfort. He doesn’t gag at all as he rubs one finger against Neuvillette’s hole, pressing against it in the facsimile of penetration, keeping to the rhythm Neuvillette has set. He can’t actually finger Neuvillette open, not without lube, but—
Something slick and viscous coats his fingers, dripping between Neuvillette’s legs as Neuvillette moans above him. “Hydro,” he pants. “Wriothesley, please.”
Far be it from Wriothesley to deny such a pretty plea.
As Neuvillette continues to fuck shallowly into his mouth, Wriothesley rubs his Hydro-slick fingers against Neuvillette’s hole, soaking his skin and massaging away the tightness of his rim. He has no idea when Neuvillette last did this—if ever—but he can judge from the way Neuvillette’s body doesn’t yield readily that it’s been some time.
That makes him burn with interest, with excitement. Neuvillette’s been around long enough that he’s probably gotten laid before, but there’s something thrilling about being Neuvillette’s first after a dry spell, about being the man that Neuvillette would willingly come to bed with after so long. Wriothesley’s cock aches, desire burning low in his stomach, and he groans around the length of Neuvillette’s cock as Neuvillette rolls his hips against Wriothesley’s face.
“More,” Neuvillette murmurs, clutching at Wriothesley’s hair. “Wriothesley, I want—I want your fingers inside me.” He whines, arching his back to press against Wriothesley’s finger before rocking forward to fuck into Wriothesley’s mouth, gliding over Wriothesley’s tongue.
Wriothesley groans again, wanting more than anything to pull Neuvillette onto his lap and fuck right into him. Not yet. Gods, Archons, Sovereigns—whatever there is in the world to swear by, he wants to be inside Neuvillette, but not yet. Not so soon, not without preparing his new lover.
Lovers, fuck, they’re lovers. He has a lover, and his lover is Neuvillette, and that’s almost too much to contemplate.
Wriothesley’s chest swells with emotion as his finger presses against Neuvillette’s hole, as the very tip eases inside the scorching heat of Neuvillette’s body.
Neuvillette jerks, driving his cock deep down Wriothesley’s throat, and Wriothesley sputters. Immediately, Neuvillette pulls back, which forces him onto Wriothesley’s finger as his cock falls from Wriothesley’s lips, and then Neuvillette is moaning, moaning ever so sweetly, his nails biting into Wriothesley’s shoulder as he pulls at Wriothesley’s hair.
“Good?” Wriothesley rasps, working his finger deeper still, leaning forward to press kisses to the base of Neuvillette’s cock.
His only answer is a keening whine as Neuvillette’s head falls back. His rhinophores glitter and glow, lengthening into ethereal, gossamer strands. If Wriothesley’s hands weren’t occupied with his own cock and Neuvillette’s ass, he’d touch one. For now, though, he’s content to mouth at Neuvillette’s cock as he presses his finger in to the second knuckle, as he watches Neuvillette tremble.
“Good,” Neuvillette breathes, the word shivering on his lips.
Circling his finger against Neuvillette’s tight rim, Wriothesley takes him back into his mouth. This time, Neuvillette stays relatively still as Wriothesley sucks him as deep as he can and fucks his finger deeper into Neuvillette’s ass. He takes his time, paying careful attention to what makes Neuvillette gasp and moan, to what has him shaking even harder and rocking his hips forward in involuntary thrusts. But every time he rolls forward, he sinks back, taking more and more of Wriothesley’s finger until Wriothesley can pet easily over his prostate—and then his moans turn to soft cries.
“Wriothesley.” He lifts a hand to his mouth but leaves it hanging in the air as though his brain shut down before he could complete the gesture.
Humming around Neuvillette’s cock, Wriothesley pulls his finger out and gently presses a second in alongside the first. With both fingers, he stretches Neuvillette’s tight hole as he suckles and laves Neuvillette’s cock, as he licks up the length of it and swirls his tongue around the tip.
Pleasure hums through him, the utter delight at being able to touch Neuvillette like this, to take him apart like this. To have Neuvillette in his bed has Wriothesley hungry and needy, has his pants damp from his own precum, and he presses his hand against his aching cock as if that will offer him some relief. It doesn’t, of course; it just makes him harder, hungrier, and he swallows around Neuvillette’s cock until Neuvillette is keening with both hands buried once more in Wriothesley’s hair.
Nails rake across Wriothesley’s scalp, and more pleasure sizzles in his veins. He’s alight with it, a man with a Cryo Vision burning alive beneath the Hydro Dragon Sovereign’s grasping hands.
More needy whines spill from Neuvillette’s lips as Wriothesley works a third finger into him and then starts a lazy back and forth over his prostate. Neuvillette’s hips twitch and jerk, driving his cock deeper into Wriothesley’s mouth in wicked fits and bursts. Each time Neuvillette’s cock presses against the back of Wriothesley’s throat, he moans, and that sends Neuvillette backwards, spearing himself on fingers that Wriothesley makes sure drag over Neuvillette’s prostate.
Like this, he works Neuvillette harder, faster, until Neuvillette is twisting against him and grabbing great fistfuls of Wriothesley’s hair.
“I—Wriothesley, I am—”
Close, he’s close, and Wriothesley pushes him harder against the edge, dragging out his pleasure until it, like a fine filament of crystal stretched too far, shatters.
Neuvillette comes down Wriothesley’s throat with a broken cry, his ass clenching around Wriothesley’s fingers. Bitter cum splashes across Wriothesley’s tongue, and he swallows it eagerly, desperate for anything Neuvillette will give him, to take any part of Neuvillette into himself that he can. Neuvillette’s thighs tremble, and Wriothesley pulls his fingers from Neuvillette’s ass just in time to catch him, to cradle him close and roll him onto his back on the bed.
“Sweetness,” he croons. “You’re gorgeous when you come for me.”
Neuvillette mewls, kicking against the sheets as Wriothesley lays over him, using his weight to pin Neuvillette down. He reaches between their bodies for his own pants, pushing them off and freeing his cock so that he can rub the remains of Neuvillette’s Hydro into his skin. There’s not enough, though, and he isn’t about to fuck into Neuvillette dry.
So he plies Neuvillette with kisses until Neuvillette’s shuddering eases and the writhing of his body turns into easier undulations, his soft cock grinding into Wriothesley’s belly.
“Back with me?” Wriothesley asks.
Neuvillette opens his eyes, still glowing, and purrs. “That was exquisite.”
“And we’re not done yet,” Wriothesley reminds him, petting against his rim, now loose and soft. “I need a little more Hydro, sweetness.”
“Mm.” Neuvillette arches languidly, and Hydro pools in Wriothesley’s palm. He pulls his hand down the length of his cock, slicking it liberally. Even that touch hurts; he’s so sensitive, so keyed up, that he’s worried he might come as soon as he pushes into Neuvillette’s tight body.
Steeling himself, braced over Neuvillette on one arm, he brings his cock to Neuvillette’s hole.
“Ready for me?”
Neuvillette’s lips curve in a smile no less welcoming for how wicked it is. His legs cross over Wriothesley’s waist, his heels digging into the small of Wriothesley’s back. “I have been ready for five years,” he says.
Laughing, Wriothesley guides himself into the furnace of Neuvillette’s tight body—and his laughter fades. Good, Neuvillette is so good, feels so good, and he groans, resting his forehead against Neuvillette’s as he fights off the sudden, visceral need to come. Fuck, but he wants to come so badly, wants to fill Neuvillette up until cum spills out of him, wants to leave Neuvillette’s thighs stained with some piece of him.
“I guess,” he says, panting around the words, “I’ll have to fuck you like it hasn’t been five years, huh?”
Neuvillette’s legs tighten around his waist. “I welcome that.”
He’s talking a big game, though, because he’s mostly out of his mind already. Neuvillette is so tight, a vice around his cock, all hot and silken muscle. There’s a hysterical part of him that’s relieved he’s already gotten Neuvillette off. He’s not sure he’s going to last long enough to manage it again, especially with Neuvillette only half hard between them.
Threading his fingers through strands of Neuvillette’s hair, he turns his hips in slow revolutions, just grinding into Neuvillette’s body to give himself time to get on top of his own burning need and wild desire.
“Question for you,” Wriothesley says.
Neuvillette cocks his head to one side. “Now, Wriothesley?” But he sounds amused.
“’S relevant, promise.” Wriothesley reaches the tips of three fingers toward Neuvillette’s rhinophores. “How sensitive are these?” he asks, running his fingertips along the edge of one.
Neuvillette’s entire body jerks, his back bowing, his head falling back. He makes a broken, aching sound, and his nails dig sharply into Wriothesley’s shoulders. The sound that comes from him is so sweetly obscene that Wriothesley imagines Sigewinne to keep from coming—imagines Sigewinne scolding him for not pleasing Neuvillette well enough.
He shudders. Neuvillette, thankfully, does not notice. He’s too busy panting, clutching at Wriothesley’s back as he clings. “Very,” he manages, strangled and breathless.
A smile pulls across Wriothesley’s lips, and he’s sure it’s wicked and unrepentant. “So, if I were to do this…?” He shifts his weight onto one elbow and gently runs his fingertips along the body of Neuvillette’s rhinophore.
Neuvillette sobs, arching beneath him again. And, no, it’s not exactly great for Wriothesley from one perspective—Neuvillette clenches around him, and that just makes him want to come all the more—but it’s perfect from several others.
“And this?” His voice drops a register, goes low and rough and husky as he pets along Neuvillette’s rhinophore. Long, slow strokes, the way he would fuck Neuvillette for hours if he could, but it’s been too long and he wants too much. He needs the weapons available to him if he’s going to make this last.
Neuvillette whines, thighs squeezing around Wriothesley’s waist. “That—that is—” Wriothesley’s knuckles drag down the curve of the rhinophore, and Neuvillette shudders. Mewls. He arches into Wriothesley’s stomach, grinding his now hard cock into Wriothesley’s belly. “More.”
“Demanding dragon,” Wriothesley says, but this is ideal.
As he focuses on his breathing and tries to ignore how Neuvillette feels clamped around his cock, he pets Neuvillette’s one rhinophore until Neuvillette is writhing under him. It’s one of those two steps forward, one step back sort of situations, yeah, but it kind of works. He gets on top of his own pleasure as he keys Neuvillette back up, as he drives Neuvillette to the point of desperate gasps and whining mewls. And, fuck, nothing’s ever been as hot as Neuvillette writhing so desperately beneath him.
His fingers brush back and forth over Neuvillette’s rhinophore as he finally starts to move, and Neuvillette sobs with something that sounds like relief.
“Please, please,” he murmurs, raking his nails down Wriothesley’s back.
Fuck, but this is so much better than Wriothesley’s fantasies. He’d imagined Neuvillette would be a good but distant lover, quiet and reserved, but Neuvillette is desperate and clingy, crying out and gasping with Wriothesley’s every movement.
“More,” he says again. “Harder, Wriothesley, I—”
Bracing his arms on either side of Neuvillette’s head, pulling his fingers along both of Neuvillette’s rhinophores, Wriothesley thrusts hard and deep—and Neuvillette cries out with bliss. He clutches at Wriothesley’s shoulders as Wriothesley finally starts a pace that is brutal and punishing—at least by human measures, and he hopes he stands up to dragon measures, too, but now’s not the time to worry about that. With his fingers playing over Neuvillette’s rhinophores and Neuvillette’s cock caught between them, he fucks hard into Neuvillette’s body.
“So good,” he growls, bending his lips to Neuvillette’s but offering no kisses, not yet. “You’re so fucking good, Neuvillette.”
Neuvillette whines, dropping his feet to the bed to meet Wriothesley’s thrusts.
“The look on your face—” Wriothesley bites at Neuvillette’s lower lip, and the sound Neuvillette makes in response is wild, is feral. His hands drop to Wriothesley’s ass, and he yanks Wriothesley into each thrust. “Beautiful dragon.”
That makes Neuvillette preen, makes him arch his entire body as he turns his face to bear his throat.
Wriothesley isn’t as stupid as the past five years might imply. Neuvillette gives him his neck, and Wriothesley knows exactly what Neuvillette wants. He kisses along Neuvillette’s jaw. Rakes his teeth down Neuvillette’s throat. Beneath him, Neuvillette shudders, gasps, moans. And then he sinks his teeth into the meat of Neuvillette’s shoulder where it slopes into his neck.
Neuvillette’s entire body seizes around Wriothesley’s as he comes. His ass squeezes Wriothesley’s cock tight, all rippling, silky muscle as he cries out Wriothesley’s name. Cum splashes between their bodies, and the light from his rhinophores blazes so brightly Wriothesley has to close his eyes.
He doesn’t stop. No, he has his stride now, and he has Neuvillette’s measure, too.
“My dragon,” Wriothesley whispers into his neck. “Do you think you can come again for me?”
Neuvillette gasps. Makes a baffled little noise.
“Your refractory period is short, sweetness,” Wriothesley croons. “I think you can come again for me if you let me…” He reaches down, hooks his elbow beneath Neuvillette’s knee, and opens Neuvillette up even more for him. With a quick adjustment of his own body, when he fucks into Neuvillette again, Neuvillette’s broken cry is all the confirmation he needs to know he’s hit Neuvillette’s prostate.
“I—”
“One more for me tonight,” Wriothesley says, all but begging. “Let me give you one more.”
“Greedy.” But, breathless as he is, Neuvillette sounds pleased.
Wriothesley’s fingers find Neuvillette’s rhinophores again. “Next time, I’ll give you an orgasm for every year I dropped the ball.” He thrusts into Neuvillette again, stroking over Neuvillette’s rhinophore at the same time, and Neuvillette cries out, half shattered already.
He plays like that for what feels like hours but is likely barely a handful of minutes. With his fingers playing over Neuvillette’s rhinophore and his cock nailing Neuvillette’s prostate, it’s not long before Neuvillette is panting under him once more, is digging his nails into Wriothesley’s back, is gasping out broken pleas for more, more, more. Wriothesley gives him more, gives him everything. He keeps his pace even and steady, exactly what Neuvillette needs, until Neuvillette, twisting almost violently on Wriothesley’s cock and with tears in his eyes, comes again.
Once more, he seizes around Wriothesley’s cock, his head bowed back, his hands clutching Wriothesley’s shoulders. And Wriothesley takes his mouth in a brutal kiss, swallowing a cry shaped vaguely like Wriothesley’s name. He fucks Neuvillette for as long as he can, but the sweet pull of Neuvillette’s body is too much.
“Inside me,” Neuvillette whispers against Wriothesley’s mouth, and no sane man could deny Neuvillette that request.
With a groan, Wriothesley drives deep as he comes, painting Neuvillette’s insides white, filling him until he can feel liquid seeping out of Neuvillette’s ass. His orgasm shakes him; it claws through him to the bone, and it lingers far longer than most. Maybe because he hasn’t gotten off in a good, long while. Maybe because he’s with Neuvillette. Maybe a healthy mix of both.
When he finally finishes shaking apart, he lowers himself over Neuvillette’s body, brushing soft kisses to Neuvillette’s lips. “Do I weigh too much?” he asks.
“No,” Neuvillette says, draping his arms and legs around Wriothesley’s shoulders and hips. “No, do not move. This is delightful. Warm. Safe.” He purrs, his fingers gliding through Wriothesley’s hair. “Mm, my Wriothesley.”
Smiling faintly, Wriothesley nuzzles beneath Neuvillette’s jaw, peppering his neck with kisses. There’s a red mark on Neuvillette’s throat from where he bit, and he can only hope that Neuvillette can heal it away or hide it behind his jabot. “Yours,” he agrees, exhaling. “But we should clean up, sweetness.”
“Sweetness,” Neuvillette says, as though testing out the word.
Wriothesley lifts his face, studying Neuvillette’s. “Ah. Yeah. Well.” He clears his throat. “Beloved.”
“I have had five years to love you from afar, Wriothesley,” Neuvillette says dryly.
“And my excuse is that I wanted you but always thought you were beyond me.” He presses two fingers to Neuvillette’s lips and adds quickly, “We can argue about my self-worth later.” He pauses. “Wait.”
Neuvillette quirks a brow, and Wriothesley is acutely aware that they’re laying in a mess, his softening cock slipping out of Neuvillette’s body.
“Wait, if you’ve been in love with me for five years and you bought all this furniture—”
“You bought it,” Neuvillette reminds him, talking around the fingers pressed to his lips. Wriothesley removes them. “I merely selected it.
“Semantics. Did you want me to fuck you in this bed?”
Neuvillette stretches beneath Wriothesley. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t imagine such a thing frequently.”
Laughing, Wriothesley drops a kiss to Neuvillette’s mouth. “Then I suppose it’s good we’re neighbors and you can come over to spend a night in it as often as you’d like.”
Neuvillette’s eyes light—metaphorically—and he smiles. “I suppose it is a good thing indeed that we are neighbors.”
Wriothesley swings out of bed. “I’ll go get a towel for us.” And it’s only the next morning that he turns to Neuvillette over breakfast and says, “Wait. Was me buying this house—did you—was this all part of some elaborate plan?”
“Drink your tea, beloved,” Neuvillette replies.