by the strange pull

Adulation

Wriothesely has a bad day, rests his head against Neuvillette's lap, and gets off to being called a 'Good boy'.

CW: Contains Smut

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Wriothesley is keyed up for a lot of reasons.

Too many new intakes, the death of their Archon, a—what he will assume—to be a brutal rut looming on the horizon; these are the things that have wrung him tight to the point of agitation. It took him snapping at Sigewinne to realize he needed a break.

The option is obvious. There is only one place Wriothesley will find peace, despite what the average person would think, and it's between the legs of his partner.

"Beloved," says Neuvillette, his fingers combing through Wriothesley's coarse hair. Just to pet it. Nothing untoward. And Wriothesley just sits there on the ground, cheek resting against Neuvillette's thigh as he works.

Sedene says nothing. She drops off a stack of papers, sighing at the sight of him, but turns on her heel to leave after Neuvillette gives his thanks. His hand leaves Wriothesley's hair to shuffle through reports, unable to put an end to his day early.

Still. It is quiet. Neuvillette is dressed down on the couch, jacket tossed over his desk chair, and the topmost buttons of his collar undone. Wriothesley too, having tossed his jacket onto an arm of the coat rack haphazardly the moment he slipped through the door. Neuvillette is mostly muscle but his thigh is soft, and Wriothesley relaxes against it.

Neuvillette had not asked questions. "I need you," said Wriothesley, and Neuvillette's response was immediate as he pulled him close. Then he'd moved to the couch and folded Wriothesley against his lap before resuming whatever he was working on.

Alphas... do not behave like this. And there is a part of Wriothesley that still hesitates but the comfort of Neuvillette's fingers pulling across his scalp smooths out any doubt that lingers in his mind. Neuvillette's scent is not commanding. It's sweet, and Wriothesley drowns in it, lax in his lap.

Neuvillette eventually speaks. "Good boy," he says, and oh, what that does for Wriothesley. He has never... This has never...

Wriothesley's throat bobs as he lies there against Neuvillette's lap, soaking up the praise. Neuvillette likely didn't think about it; he praises him plenty—particularly when chock full of Wriothesley's cock. But never like this. There is something more raw and intimate about this, with Neuvillette's claws against his head.

Neuvillette purrs gently. He smells proud as he pets Wriothesley's hair, content that his partner came to him. The sound of it eases Wriothesley's tightly-rung alpha. The smell of him, the way his claws scrape through the strands of his hair—Wriothesley feels the tension bleed from his being.

And the praise is...

"Wriothesley."

Wriothesley tilts his face up to find Neuvillette watching him carefully. "You heard what I said, yes?" Neuvillette knows that he did, he can sense those minute changes in the air and smell Wriothesley's calm. But Wriothesley also knows there is a satisfaction in hearing it, an instinctual need to know that your mate is well taken care of.

He snorts softly and kisses Neuvillette's thigh through his trousers. "Yeah."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah."

Neuvillette hums. "Are you comfortable?"

Wriothesley smiles, his eyes fluttering closed. "Mhmn, yeah."

He loses himself in the feel of Neuvillette's fingers. "I'm sorry that I have to work. I won't be long."

"No, it's—fine. This is fine. I like this."