by the strange pull

To Ask For It

CW: Contains Smut

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 "You asked for this," purrs Neuvillette.

He could be mean with the reminder but he says it sweetly instead, softly, reverently, as he drags the tips of his claws over Wriothesley's flesh. And yes, Wriothesley did ask for this, but a request is not always the same as reality. Neuvillette looks at him as if he's a sight for sore eyes, as if they haven't seen each other for days, weeks, months. As if he could sink his fangs into the meat of his skin and swallow him whole.

Arousal stinks up the space. Wriothesley's room in Meropide is too small for comfort. Neuvillette leans over him, smelling like the darkest depths of the ocean, wanton and needy, drenched in the unmistakable, unfettered stench of alpha.

Part of Wriothesley wants to snap at him. Gnash his teeth with a growling bite, and tilt Neuvillette over to force his submission. The other part of Wriothesley wants to heel, tipping his head back, baring his neck for a proper claim.

Neuvillette knows this. He drags a hand across the length of his shoulders and neck, thumbing over Wriothesley's swollen scent gland. "Later," he says.

It's a vow with weight—but Wriothesley whines nonetheless, annoyed by the proposed delay. Heat pools in his gut. He drowns in it and raises his hips, forcing Neuvillette's cock deeper. Gods it's good—but it's the sort of pleasure that balances at the edge of razor's edge, and Neuvillette's teasing is not helping.

Neuvillette hums, dragging those claws down his sternum. He traces Wriothesley's abs, every dip and curve, relishing in the way that the muscle ripples under his touch. And then he drags the pad of his finger down the hard length of Wriothesley's cock where it lays against his stomach.

Wriothesley groans. His cock twitches. It aches, close to the edge because in combination with Neuvillette filling his ass, it's too much, it's—

Relief never comes. Wriothesley's orgasm is choked off by the ring of Hydro settled around the base of his cock.

"Beloved." Neuvillette looks at him so fondly. And it's that look that does him in, that makes his alpha want to roll over and keen. And yes, there is a small part of himself that jerks at the thought of submitting, but his want outweighs that concern. Wriothesley's fingers dig into Neuvillette's thigh where it's pressed against his ass, nails digging in to ground himself.

"Sweetheart—"

"You asked for this," cuts in Neuvillette. "You begged for this."

He leans back until the tip of his cock pulls at Wriothesley's slick rim, thumbing over where it's stretched wide. Then he thrusts back in, that tip sliding against his prostate in a way that has Wriothesley arching in the sheets.

Wriothesley's cock leaks, wet and pink at the head, begging for release. But he can't, he can't, so he just whimpers pathetically as he chokes on the thick heft of Neuvillette's cock. Another aborted wriggle of his hips, trying and failing to relieve the pressure in his guts when Neuvillette holds him stock-still by the hips.

Neuvillette pities him, then, for a second. He leans forward, bending over Wriothesley, which leads to a new sort of torture as hit cock carves through his insides. A sweet kiss to Wriothesley's sweaty temple. A soft moan as Neuvillette inhales deeply, nuzzling the skin there, no doubt taking a moment to savor his scent.

"What a good boy," he says then, nipping at Wriothesley's ear. "What a sweet thing, the perfect mate. Do you want me to stop?"

Wriothesley's answer is lodged in his throat and he lets out a pathetic keen instead.