Into the Depths

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 4: 𝓤𝓷𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭

The night was quiet, the kind of silence that seemed to press against the walls of Wriothesley's study like an unspoken secret. His desk was scattered with papers—cases to review, reports to file—but he found little focus in his work. His thoughts kept returning to Neuvillette, and the way the Archon's touch had ignited something within him. It was dangerous, and yet, it felt like the only thing that was real.

The door creaked open with a soft whisper. Wriothesley didn't need to look up to know who it was. Neuvillette had a habit of entering without so much as a warning, though Wriothesley had never quite minded.

"Wriothesley."

Neuvillette's voice was calm, but there was a subtle undercurrent to it—an uncertainty, perhaps, or a curiosity.

Wriothesley glanced up from his papers, momentarily distracted by the sound of Neuvillette's approach.

"Is something wrong?"

Neuvillette was standing by the doorframe, his figure illuminated by the soft light from the desk lamp. There was an odd tension in the air between them tonight, something that felt both familiar and unsettling. Neuvillette shifted slightly, as though considering his words, before stepping closer.

"I... wanted to speak with you. About us,"

Neuvillette said softly, his gaze locked on Wriothesley's with an intensity that made his pulse race.

"But perhaps it's best if we—"

Before Neuvillette could finish, a sudden tremor shook the ground beneath them. Wriothesley stood quickly, his hand reaching instinctively for the edge of the desk as the floor beneath them gave way for the briefest of moments. The shock of it was enough to unbalance both men.

In a split second, Wriothesley's body collided with Neuvillette's—hard—and both men tumbled to the ground in a heap of limbs and tangled clothes. The force of the fall sent a brief shockwave through Wriothesley's body, knocking the breath from his lungs.

Neuvillette, clearly as surprised as Wriothesley, had landed on top of him, his warm body pressing against Wriothesley's chest. It was a tangle of limbs and bodies, a position neither man had planned for.

Wriothesley gasped, his breath coming out in uneven bursts. His heart hammered in his chest—not from the fall, but from the proximity to Neuvillette. The Archon's warmth, his scent, the way his body pressed so intimately against his own... The closeness, however accidental, sent a wave of heat crashing over Wriothesley's skin. He could feel every inch of Neuvillette against him—could feel his body responding in a way he couldn't control.

"Apologies."

Neuvillette said quickly, though his voice had taken on a deeper tone. His face flushed, and there was something about the way he leaned down, almost hovering above Wriothesley, that sent a shiver down the warden's spine.

"I didn't mean to—"

But Wriothesley couldn't focus on his words. The pressure of Neuvillette's body, the warmth of his breath brushing over his lips—it was all too much. Every muscle in Wriothesley's body stiffened, and he felt his body betray him. There was no mistaking it now—the ache in his pants, the growing tension between his legs. His breath hitched as his body reacted in spite of him.

Neuvillette's eyes widened as he registered the change in Wriothesley's demeanor, and his own breath faltered. A charged silence lingered between them. It was as though time itself had stopped, leaving them suspended in this intimate moment where their closeness felt both forbidden and irresistible.

Wriothesley could feel the heat of Neuvillette's body against his, and the fact that they were tangled on the floor, so impossibly close, made everything worse. His heart raced, the weight of the situation bearing down on him. His mind was clouded, but he knew one thing for certain: this was no accident.

Neuvillette's voice broke through the fog of Wriothesley's thoughts.

"Wriothesley... are you—?"

He trailed off, unsure how to ask, though his question hung heavy in the air.

Wriothesley, unable to look Neuvillette in the eye, swallowed hard.

"I'm not..."

He couldn't bring himself to finish. He wanted to push Neuvillette away, to deny the desire that was pulsing through his body, but the closeness was unbearable. The temptation to lean in, to feel Neuvillette's lips against his once more, was almost overwhelming.

Neuvillette seemed to sense the shift in Wriothesley's emotions. Slowly, almost cautiously, he lifted himself off of him, though his face remained just inches from Wriothesley's. The sudden distance felt both like relief and loss, and Wriothesley fought to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

"I didn't mean to—"

Neuvillette began again, his voice low, his words almost hesitant now.

"It wasn't my intention to make you feel uncomfortable."

Wriothesley took a steadying breath, trying to regain control of himself.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he said, though his voice was hoarse, and he couldn't hide the heat that still lingered beneath his skin.

His gaze flickered downward for a brief moment, before snapping back to Neuvillette's eyes. The proximity between them, the charged atmosphere in the room—it was unbearable.

Neuvillette's gaze softened, as if sensing the struggle within Wriothesley. His voice was gentle, almost tender.

"It's alright to want this, Wriothesley. You don't have to hide it from me."

Wriothesley could only stare, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions—guilt, desire, fear. He had always thought that his feelings were a weakness, something to be buried beneath the weight of his duties. But now, in the presence of Neuvillette, they felt like something else entirely.

"I'm not sure I'm... ready for this."

Wriothesley admitted, his voice a fragile whisper.

Neuvillette didn't move away. Instead, he placed a hand on Wriothesley's shoulder, his touch light but reassuring.

"Then take your time," he said softly.

"We don't have to rush anything. I will wait for you, Wriothesley. When you are ready."

The weight of his words, the promise in his gaze—it was more than Wriothesley had ever expected. And yet, as the tension in the room began to settle, one thing was clear: whatever this was, it wasn't over. Not by a long shot.