Tea & Paperwork

Wrestle A-Go-Go

Neuvillette and Wriothesley wrestle and then fuck.

CW: Contains Smut

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Neuvillette, as it turns out, can have a very one track mind when given the opportunity.

It was meant as an opportunity to bridge the gap between Meropide and the surface. Neuvillette's suggestion came as a surprise. "For the Carnivale," he'd said, "why don't we hold a Pankration Tournament?" A solid idea, one that was met with mild resistance from everyone else until Neuvillette put his foot down. Perks of being the newly reigning Hydro Sovereign, Wriothesley supposes.

Fighting above ground was strange. The moves came familiarly, but the sun beat down on them despite the upper levels of the Court of Fontaine partially obscuring it. Humid. Hot. Nothing like the cool depths of the Underground.

But Wriothesley had put on a show in the ring nonetheless, indulging in a rare exhibition match, much to the ire of Sigewinne. "Too old," she'd muttered, shaking her head, "to be beating others up for fun. You're the Administrator now. You're a Duke." The 'act like one' was heavily implied, but Wriothesley didn't give one rat's ass because the entire point was showing off for Neuvillette.

Which worked. Oh, did it work. Neuvillette watched from the viewer's platform, stiff-backed and straight, cane in his hands caught in a white-knuckled grip. Others stared at him, but he stared at Wriothesley—a stare that Wriothesley felt burning right to his bones with every punch that he threw.

He was whisked away the moment the match was over. Neuvillette made a flimsy excuse that covered them both, and they retired to his townhouse for the remainder of the evening. Wriothesley expected a nice dinner, maybe a bath, and then relaxing in the sheets.

Wriothesley did not expect Neuvillette to tug him to the bedroom and kiss him feral, nothing but fangs, and that damnable forked tongue of his. Which is where they are now, slotted together, one of Neuvillette's thighs shoved between Wriothesley's legs. It's all consuming. Neuvillette devours him like Wriothesley is a meal, like he's a man starving in the middle of the desert.

"Sweetheart," mutters Wriothesley, trying to get Neuvillette to pause. "Hey, hey—"

"So strong." Neuvillette nips at his neck, just a playful tease. "Watching you out there, I—" He moans, a sharp, deep sound that is a rarity. Neuvillette is typically far more reserved in this, but here, now, he's a needy and wanton thing who pulls Wriothesley close to grind their hips together.

Neuvillette is hard. He ruts against Wriothesley hard, his grip on Wriothesley's hips biting.

Wriothesley looses tittering laughter. "Are you all worked up?" He knows that Neuvillette is to have whisked them away so readily. "I thought so. I saw you practically fucking me with your eyes out there."

Neuvillette growls softly at that, reminding Wriothesley just how inhuman he is. But Wriothesley loves it, wants to draw more of that out. He smirks, dipping close, biting at the edge of Neuvillette's mouth.

"They all saw it, sweetheart. What's the Sovereign going to do, staring at his mate so openly?"

"The Sovereign?" questions Neuvillette, his demeanor chilling ever so slightly. His touch eases, trailing up and down Wriothesley's sides.

A few seconds pass before Wriothesley realizes what it is that he wants. Heat drops into his stomach, his groin, and everything flares to life. This—Wriothesley loves this, loves him. "My Sovereign," he corrects. "What do you want? For me to suck you off?"

"I want to wrestle you," says Neuvillette instead.

Wriothesley stills at that. The moment doesn't die, but it does become confusing, and Wriothesley can't help but pull back with a furrowed brow. "Er, come again?"