Tea & Paperwork

Chock Full

Wriothesley thinks tentacles might be fun.

CW: Contains Smut

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Neuvillette is, occasionally, stunned by the beauty of his mate.

"Beloved," he murmurs as he leans over him. Wriothesley's waist is soft underneath his palm. "You're doing so well."

They've played in many ways, but never quite like this. Wriothesley writhes in the sheets, held down by cool, slick tendrils of Hydro. Sweat beads across his brow and he moans, the sound hoarse with pleasure as his cock twitches and leaks against his stomach.

Neuvillette thumbs over scars as his claws trace Wriothesley's being. It is a matter of trust; that is what brings pleasure to this old dragon. To request it, to beg for Neuvillette to do as he wishes—It is a gift.

He marvels at the sight of Wriothesley tied down, relaxed in the sheets because he knows it will not be too much. That it'll be perfect, and that Neuvillette will take care of him—which he will. Oh, he will. Neuvillette would do anything for his mate within reason.

"Is it too much?" he asks. His hair is unbound and loose, falling over his shoulder like a waterfall.

"No. No." Wriothesley swallows. Neuvillette's gaze hones in on the bob of his throat, the way that the scars there stretch with the movement.

"Do you want more?"

Hesitation; Wriothesley hesitates before saying, again, "No." Quieter this time, a flighty groan that tumbles from his lips.

Perfectly acceptable. Neuvillette offers him a smile as his fingers trace the sharp line of his collarbone, as he thumbs across a nipple, as he drags his knuckles down Wriothesley's sternum to his navel. And then below.

"So, hear me out," he'd said earlier with that well-known, lecherous glint in his eye. "I have a fun idea."

That fun idea was for a Hydro tentacle to be shoved deep into Wriothesley's ass. The rest of him is tied to the bed by other slick tendrils, spread wide and open in a sordid display. Wriothesley could pull away if he wants—that's a negotiated requirement—but he's given in so easily this entire time.

"Does it feel good?" asks Neuvillette, cupping the small bulge that rests just above the base of Wriothesley's cock.

Wriothesley moans as the weight of Neuvillette's palm presses down ever so slightly. One, two, three—that's how many Wriothesley begged for. They are thin and viscous, altogether just a smidge larger than his draconian length, but long—far longer than what Wriothesley is used to. "Yes," he says, his throat dry like the Sumeru desert.

Divine, thinks Neuvillette; the sound of it. Wriothesley has cried out in pleasure to the point of losing his voice. What a sight, a dream that will haunt Neuvillette for longer than he'd ever admit aloud. But this is Wriothesley, and his mate knows. Even now, lost in the throes of heat and pulled to the edge of spilling over, Wriothesley still manages to shoot him a smirk.

"Does it feel as good as my cock?"

That smirk falls. "No."

Neuvillette chuckles at the response. "As both of my cocks?"

"No." Wriothesley's bravado slips at the thought of it, Neuvillette can tell. That is another indulgence that requires time and preparation but is beloved.

"Sweet boy," says Neuvillette, thumbing over the ridge where those tentacles push Wriothesley's gut to its limits. The bundle isn't as thick as taking both of his dicks; no, this is a different kind of stretch, one that Neuvillette finds himself horrifically fascinated by.