just as you are

Novelty

Wriothesley stays over and ponders the novelty of their relationship.

--

Wriothesley's gaze narrows in on the curve of Neuvillette's neck, right where the slope of it meets the line of his shoulder.

Teeth marks, a round of them, red little pits surrounded by bruised skin. A savage-looking thing left in a moment of passion. Neuvillette submitted so quickly, so readily, his head tilted back, the column of his throat on display. Wriothesley couldn't help but mark it up. He still feels the way his teeth sank into his flesh.

These feelings, the domesticity, the lazy way Wriothesley watches and feels warm at the sight—it shouldn't be so easy. Why is it so easy?

Wriothesley finds himself aching to learn more, to push those boundaries. To give in himself and see just how far that trust goes. It is harder for him to give up control. Wriothesley doesn't expect Neuvillette to understand, but he always does. I'm different, he murmurs in his sheets before laying himself open and bare, ripe for the taking.

This morning Wriothesley wakes in warm comfort. The smell of ocean salt clings to the sheets, and he rolls over, burying his face into them. Neuvillette. Tension eases from him as he sinks into it, sighing as he slips into another doze, watching Neuvillette shuffle about the room sleepily.

But that mark. He can't stop staring. Wriothesley's teeth are blunt, unfit for tearing into skin. And yet, Neuvillette begged for it. And he left it there when he could heal it with the wave of his hand. Wriothesley tries not to think of the implications.

"If you wish to stay in my bed, I won't stop you. However, I do have it on good authority that there is work to be done. Isn't there a new set of inmates scheduled for intake to the Fortress today?"

Wriothesley groans, hiding in the sheets. "Don't remind me."

"Tired?"

"Exhausted."

A soft laugh has Wriothesley peeking out from the sheets once more. Neuvillette tugs on his trousers, fastening them at the waist with clean, efficient movements. "I suppose that I ran you ragged."

The understatement of the century. Wriothesley would've been fine with a one-and-done type of deal but then Neuvillette clung to him, mouth pressed against his ear, and begged for more. Wriothesley is a simple man and a pleaser, and so he gave and gave.

He did not mean to stay over. He never stays over, but his bones ached, the sheets smelled too good, and Neuvillette was soft and warm against him. It's a relationship; they both realize it. They've acknowledged it, but these quieter parts still come awkwardly. Wriothesley is so woefully out of his depth when it comes to matters of the heart.

Finally, he sits up with a groan, his back muscles protesting. "Well, it's been a while since I worked out," he murmurs. "Too much damn paperwork."

"Thus is the life of an administrator."

Wriothesley snorts, pulling himself to his feet. "I'm not complaining."

"You just were." Neuvillette is teasing him, his words warm and affectionate. His lips are curved into a grin as he pulls on a shirt.

Wriothesley makes a last-minute decision. "Here, let me," he says, reaching out to take hold of the plackets. Neuvillette blinks and stills, hands dropping to his side as Wriothesley buttons up his shirt. Wriothesley continues, saying, "You let me bite you."

"Hardly the first time," replies Neuvillette dryly.

"Yeah, but you didn't heal this one." Wriothesley's fingers trip up as they slip a button through the last hole. He tucks the hem into Neuvillette's trousers. Lingering fingers. Heat spreads where it shouldn't so early in the day, but it's a pleasant, lingering sort of thing. Lazy. Neither of them will act on it but it's noticeable.

Neuvillette doesn't stop him. Nor does he say anything in return, he just watches Wriothesley with a curious expression. Wriothesley lifts a hand and fiddles with the edge of the collar around his neck. "Leave it," Neuvillette tells him, finally breaching the silence. "It's a warm day and I don't feel like wearing a collar pin."

Wriothesley's hand comes to a halt, his thumb hovering over the clasp. "This... I mean, you can see it." The edges of the mark. Purpled skin peeks out from Neuvillette's collar, prominently on display. There will be wild gossip. Words will fly because the Chief Justice does not take lovers, even if they aren't a well-kept secret.

And maybe it's because Wriothesley has pined for so long that it's strange to think this is real, that this is something they finally share. No longer does he wallow in wishes and dreams. Wriothesley swallows thickly, fingers tracing the tender skin of Neuvillette's throat.

Neuvillette's eyes crinkle in amusement. He dips forward and kisses him. short and sweet, just a peck against his mouth. When he pulls away, he says, very simply, "I know. Let them look."