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Loosening teeth clash against each other and the cracking of bones repeats as he relentlessly lands a punch to each side of his opponent’s jaw. The barely conscious man’s nose has yet to cease profusely bleeding all over the lower region of his face, flowing all the way down to his neck, causing a wet sound with each strike to his head. 

It sounds disgusting even to Wriothesley’s ears. But he’s the only one who hears it as the violence is completely drowned out by the cheering of the ruthless audience surrounding them. Revolting as it may be, he can’t stop either, not until they tell him to. If he displays disobedience or unnecessary mercy at any point before the match ends, he doesn’t get the money. Not even a single coin. 

At the first peal of a bell, Wriothesley immediately stops. He stands up from where he was kneeling over his opponent, who he notices is miraculously still breathing. While he pants with exertion from fighting for over an hour straight, the ring announcer raises one of his hands and yells his name as tonight’s victor. 

A large majority of the present spectators shout in acclamation, bringing their hands together to applaud. However, Wriothesley has been involved in these matches long enough to be aware that the cheers aren’t necessarily for him—it’s for the money they earned by placing their bets on him. 

When the announcer finally puts his arm back down, Wriothesley doesn’t waste another second in heading out of the ring, away from the attention and spotlight.

He just wants to get his deserved prize money and run back home in time for dinner. 

With a plastic bag containing a box of rotisserie chicken inside, Wriothesley fixes his clothes and pats down his unruly hair in an attempt to look more presentable before entering the rundown house. Once he’s satisfied with his appearance, he opens the front door and makes a move to stretch his arms wide for a hug, expecting a wholesome greeting from his daughter. He puts them back down however, when it’s not Sigewinne whom he spots in the living room. 

“Welcome back,” Navia says as she finishes up with sweeping the floor clean. “I understand that you’re too busy committing felonies to notice the layers of dust in your house, but even I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to grab a broom.”

Wriothesley examines the interior of the house. It’s become noticeably cleaner and more organized than how he left it this morning. “I’m not committing any felonies.”

“I didn’t know you tell jokes now. And really? That’s all you have to say?”

“...Thank you. Both for cleaning and watching Sigewinne again today.” 

Navia rolls her eyes in a joking manner, a friendly smile forming on her face. “Well, I’m happy I’m able to take a small load off of you, God knows you need all the help you can get. Anyway, Sigewinne went to her room earlier to do homework. I’ll go tell her you’re here.”

Sigewinne shortly comes later, giving Wriothesley that hug he previously expected. She scans her father’s face, eyebrows furrowing in worry as her little fingertips gently brush over the side of his left eye. “You were fighting again today.”

She doesn’t scold Wriothesley or lists reasons on why he should leave the underground world. Somehow, that makes the male feel guiltier than when Sigewinne was still telling him to stop during his first few matches. “Yes, I’m sorry. I bought us chicken though, I’m sure you’re tired of having only vegetables and bread all week.”

“I’d rather have vegetables forever than see you keep getting hurt for me,” the eight year old mutters. 

“…I’m sorry.” is all Wriothesley can reply with. He’s sorry that he’s hurting Sigewinne by letting her see him like this—living paycheck to paycheck, desperate enough that even a child has noticed that their family is heavily struggling with finances. 

Money is something a kid shouldn’t have to worry about. But with Wriothesley often sporting new injuries each time he brought home a suspiciously large amount of money, it became all too obvious. 

Nevertheless, he’d rather choose survival tainted with guilt over starvation. 

Sensing the downcast atmosphere, Navia changes the subject, an awkward grin on her face. “Sigewinne, you must be hungry from all the homework you’ve been doing. Let’s start on that chicken that your dad bought for you, hm? I’m sure Wriothesley would also like to wash up now, he’s stinky from work!” 

“…Okay.” 

Wriothesley sends Navia a grateful glance. 

While showering, he ponders on how long he has to do this; working himself to the bone with whatever job he can find while serving as the pathetic entertainment for those who have money to waste. 

He never enrolled into university, immediately entered the workforce after graduating high school, gave up on whatever interests he had, and crushed every single ambition he held. The only reason he moves forward now is to pave an easier path for Sigewinne. 

And he’s okay with that. For Sigewinne. If it’s for his daughter. It’s okay. 

But I’m exhausted too. 

How much more of himself does he have to lose before the world finally considers him pitiful enough to stop crushing him under its feet? 

(He finds out later on that the gods have been listening to him all this time.)

The next time he’s called to fight a match isn’t till the week after. 

While he waits for his opponent to come out, Wriothesley stretches his neck, slightly aching from the construction work he did yesterday. He should really try asking for a raise from his manager there. 

When he turns to his right, Wriothesley accidentally makes eye contact with one of the audience members in the front row. 

The man’s hair is long enough to flow down to his waist, one side of it tucked behind his ear. Wriothesley doesn’t pay much heed to the stranger’s face as it’s his clothes and accessories that catches his eye; a glimmering watch on his wrist, a crisp tailored suit, the rings decorating his hands, and so much more. 

Despite the distance between them, Wriothesley can see that the man is practically dripping with money. He’s sure his inference is correct judging by the sheer confidence the stranger is carrying in his posture alone. 

Wriothesley can’t help but think of the man as another blaring reminder of the world he’ll never reach regardless of how hard he works. Though it’s not like this is a new sight, especially amongst this underground boxing ring’s audience. He doesn’t even find it in himself anymore to harbor resentment. 

And so he looks away, choosing to focus instead on the opponent that’s about to step into the ring. 

It’s a dog-eat-dog world. Being in his position, Wriothesley knows that he’s already been swallowed whole. 

“As expected of the crowd favorite, here’s your money,” Augustus, the main person in charge of overseeing the ring’s cash flow, hands Wriothesley a thick envelope loaded with cash. “But before you go, someone in the audience asked to see you privately. You’ll see him outside the back entrance.”

Wriothesley sighs as he heads to the said meeting place. This is far from the first time an audience member has requested to see him for a private service, but it doesn’t make the experience any less unpleasant. 

Being taken advantage of will always cause bile to rise in his throat. Unfortunately, all he can do is push it down and say yes to whatever is being asked of him. 

When he arrives at the back entrance, Wriothesley finds the stranger from earlier waiting for him, recalling the watch and the rings. He goes straight to the point. “What do you want me to do for you?” 

“The staff here told me that you’re the most skilled fighter they have.”

Wriothesley is perplexed by the statement, specifically what it has to do with the man’s incoming request. Was this person going to ask him to beat up someone for him? “I’m not sure if I’m necessarily the most skilled, but it is true that I have a relatively clean win record.” 

“Good.”

“What? What do you want?”

“You.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to work for me,” the man takes out what appears to be a business card from his pocket and hands it out to Wriothesley. “Become part of my security staff, more specifically my personal bodyguard.”

The latter ignores the card. “No. If you want me to do something for you, I’ll do it as a one-time thing. But I’m not working for someone I don’t even know.” 

They’re all the same, every single one of them—corrupt, arrogant, greedy. They have everything they want and yet they drive themselves insane desiring for even more. What makes this stranger any different? 

Unfazed by the brash response his offer received, the unnamed male continues. “By tomorrow, I’ll have this underground ring shut down.”

The statement finally pushes Wriothesley to properly look at the stranger in the eye. 

“There’s too many laws it’s breaking. I was only here in the first place to witness the evidence for myself. While I’m not cruel enough to have the obvious victims of debt imprisoned, you should be informed that the large amount of money you earn from fighting here will be cut.” 

Even after hearing crucial information, Wriothesley wills himself to remain appearing indifferent. His doubts still aren’t eased. In fact, he only becomes more wary. “I don’t think anyone else knows. Why tell me in particular?” 

The question finally coaxes a reaction from the man, albeit incredibly subtle; a twitch of an eyebrow and a clenched jaw. 

With Wriothesley’s unwavering skepticism, the stranger acknowledges that the conversation will go nowhere at the rate they’re going. He concedes with a sigh, “I’ll give you until tomorrow to decide.”

“Decide what?”

“Whether you want to accept my help,” the business card that Wriothesley initially refused is dropped on the ground by the boxer’s feet. “Or if you’d rather continue deluding yourself into thinking you can claw your way up from the bottom of the barrel.”

Wriothesley is relieved no one else was around when he was talking to the wealthy stranger. Otherwise, his pride wouldn’t have allowed him to pick up the fallen card after he was sure the man left. 

Neuvillette De la Cour. 

The contact information written on the card leads to that name. 

Navia was flabbergasted when she saw the name. (Wriothesley had to tell her about the incident. Two heads are better than one or whatever the quote is. He also just wanted to hear input from someone he trusts.) 

Based on the onslaught of information she dumped on Wriothesley, the De la Cours were a big deal in the legal world; a family of lawyers who own a multitude of law firms, each composed of respectable names whose cases have been considered headline-worthy. Neuvillette himself is a well-known prosecutor who’s most likely on his way to becoming a judge. 

They have stakes in the business world as well as the family established a company dedicated to overseeing the trade of resources exclusive to Fontaine’s waters with other nations. 

So Wriothesley can at least be assured that his potential employer isn’t going to put him in a business that’s even shadier than underground boxing. 

Putting Neuvillette’s background aside, the boxer considers his own situation as well. If it really was true that the ring he fights in is getting shut down, it’ll be a big fucking blow to his source of income. Maybe stretching himself even thinner than he already is can pay for the necessities, but what about Sigewinne? What of her birthday and Christmas gifts? What if she wants to go on a trip? 

More importantly, what about her schooling? Wriothesley would be damned if he were to drag his daughter down with him. At the very least, Sigewinne has to be the one who makes it out of here. She can be the one between them who gets the degree and career she wants. The one who gets to have dreams. 

It’s an easy decision from there. 

When Wriothesley stops by the ring the next day and sees the police cars swarming it, nothing else holds him back from calling. 

Leaving all hesitation behind, he dives headfirst into the hands of the man named Neuvillette. 

Other than protecting who they’re supposed to, Wriothesley isn’t entirely sure what a bodyguard actually does. 

He’s not sure what he expected to do on the first day of his new legal civilian job, but it’s definitely not getting his measurements taken for his own suit. Though he figures he shouldn’t be too shocked; of course someone as prominent as Neuvillette prefers utmost professionalism for his employees. 

And most of all, the suit is already paid for by Neuvillette. If something is free of charge, then Wriothesley will gladly shut up and take it. 

Now that he has officially onboarded as Neuvillette’s bodyguard, Wriothesley is able to reach the man more freely without appointments or suspicious glares from his secretary. 

After the necessary procedures for his suit are finished, he politely knocks on the glass door of Neuvillette’s office, not entering until his boss beckons him in. 

“The measurements are finished, uhm,” Wriothesley briefly pauses, unsure how Neuvillette preferred to be called. “…Sir.” 

“Alright, you’re free to go home for today.”

Did Wriothesley fucking hear that correctly? “I’m sorry, could you please repeat that?”

“You are free to go home for today, Wriothesley.” 

He’s free to what? All he’s done is stand still and pick between black and gray, yet it’s time to go home? Is this a trap? A test? Is this a secret part of the job interview he had?

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do anything else, sir?”

Neuvillette shifts his gaze from the paperwork in front of him to Wriothesley, his piercing stare rendering the new bodyguard rooted in his spot. 

For a moment, Wriothesley braces himself for an earful about being an employee who doesn’t listen, his mind then drifting to the worst case scenario of getting fired on the spot. Was that even possible to occur on your first day?

Contrary to his inner turmoil, Neuvillette’s tone isn’t scolding when he speaks again, nor is it gentle. He talks as if he’s merely stating a natural fact. “The next thing you should be doing is getting to know the firm and the other employees, but I can’t have you doing that in your current attire.”

The tension in Wriothesley’s shoulders completely eases. Huh. So it really was just for professionalism. 

“And besides, I’m sure being in that boxing ring took a toll on your physical health. I highly recommend that you rest at least for just one day before starting this job. You don’t need to worry about this day being taken off your salary. I will still consider this as you showing up for the entire day.”

“Oh,” Wriothesley is stumped. “Then thank you, sir. I will see you again tomorrow.”

After a nod from his boss, Wriothesley leaves the firm, feeling the most bewildered he’s ever been in a long while. 

On the day of his first meeting with Neuvillette, he had been dismissive of the man. Distrustful. He barely even granted the older male the minimum respect of looking at him while they talked. 

What happens to the (rightfully) evil image he conjured of who Neuvillette is now that he’s discovered the former will actually be the nicest boss he’s had and probably will ever have? 

Wriothesley forces his train of thought to a stop. While he shouldn’t entertain the idea of a wicked Neuvillette, he also should remain vigilant before he gets gaslighted into believing the man can do no wrong. 

All rich people are bad. Right. 

Right?

Most days, Wriothesley is proven wrong. 

His judgment of Neuvillette’s character first stood corrected when Sigewinne made an unexpected visit to the law firm along with Navia, who mentioned that the child had a bad day at school and demanded that she wouldn’t calm down until she saw her father.

While he did comfort Sigewinne enough to bring her tears to a cease, he also made sure to gently chide her for coming to his workplace unannounced, saying that his boss sees everything through his office’s glass walls and might get mad and If my big boss gets mad at me, he might make me work on weekends too and then we can’t go to the park anymore!  

As if bearing a sixth sense for when he’s being talked about, Neuvillette had suddenly shown up from behind when Wriothesley was certain that the former was still buried in paperwork at his desk. “There’s no reason for me to be mad.”

Wriothesley was further surprised when Neuvillette crouched down to Sigewinne’s height, his palm open with candies on them. “You must’ve had a bad day. I hope these candies and seeing Wriothesley will make the rest of your afternoon at least a little nicer.”

The girl glanced up at her father for approval and took the sweets when she was granted permission. She made sure to be polite, just as her father taught her. “Thank you, mister big boss.”

Neuvillette chuckled at the title. “No problem, little miss.”

Wriothesley refused to admit it then, but the sight had warmed his heart. Not only because of Sigewinne, but also due to him witnessing a new side of his employer. In this light, Neuvillette seemed like less of that stranger at the front row who basically told Wriothesley that he’s knee deep into poverty, and more of a human who’s actually capable of gentleness. 

(Neuvillette didn’t look so bad when he was genuinely smiling. If only Wriothesley was honest enough, he would’ve admitted it to himself that the man is actually quite.. pretty. Beautiful, even.) 

“Is she why you fought so hard as a boxer?” Neuvillette had asked after Sigewinne felt ready enough to head home with Navia. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Is she your daughter?” 

While Wriothesley generally never bothered to clear this misunderstanding, he felt compelled as an employee to be candid with Neuvillette. “Yes and no, sir.”

Neuvillette remained silent but didn’t shift his eyes away from Wriothesley, signaling the latter to proceed. “Sigewinne is actually my niece. She’s my older sister’s daughter, but my sister died during childbirth. My mother abandoned us after I was born while my father, who had introduced me to underground boxing as a fighter himself, was unintentionally killed in one of his matches when Sigewinne was a toddler.”

Telling this story didn’t cause his chest to twist in sorrow anymore—the sequence of events and the struggles that followed have numbed Wriothesley’s ability to grieve. Or maybe it’s because of how he immediately had to pick himself up for the sake of raising Sigewinne. How could he feel an emotion that he was never given time to understand? 

Wriothesley continued. “Since her biological father left after finding out he had gotten my sister pregnant, I took it upon myself instead to be Sigewinne’s father. I didn’t want her to grow up without at least one parental figure. However, I also didn’t want to hide such an important truth from her, so she’s aware of who I really am even if we have decided to view each other as father and daughter.”

There was a brief moment of quietness where Neuvillette pondered on how to respond. What he settled on is a simple “I’m sorry you had to endure all that.” 

“It’s been five years. I couldn’t focus on it too much either since I had to immediately prioritize Sigewinne’s needs,” Wriothesley shrugged. “But it’s why I’m grateful you still hired me for this position despite how doubtful I was during our first meeting. I truly am indebted to you, sir.” 

“If you ever need further assistance from me, regardless of whether it’s financial or another type of support, do not hesitate to reach out to me.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir. Thank you.” 

Other minor incidents disproved Wriothesley’s negative assumptions of Neuvillette.

After noticing how bored Wriothesley gets on the days that all he has to do is stand in his close vicinity, Neuvillette encouraged the bodyguard to practically talk his ear off about anything and everything the latter could think of whenever he’s not busy examining paperwork or speaking business with someone. 

Wriothesley is generally a quiet person to begin with, but nonetheless appreciates the assurance that he won’t get fired for simply breathing wrong in his boss’s direction. 

He never fails to ask Wriothesley if there’s something specific he’d like to eat for lunch or dinner, especially if the lawyer’s meeting with a client was done in a gourmet restaurant. Wriothesley always says no, yet Neuvillette always ends up buying him something anyway, saying that he can share it with Sigewinne. 

(A few other times, Neuvillette asks him to sit down and eat with him. That was the one thing Wriothesley adamantly refused each time.)  

Out of his surprising acts of kindness, the one that made a small part of Wriothesley ache was ironically what others might consider the most trivial of all of them.

How the lawyer discovered Wriothesley’s colorblindness was an accident; he had simply asked Wriothesley to hand him the red folder that was slotted in his office’s bookshelf. 

Wriothesley initially attempted to fake it, but when he saw the amount of folders to choose from—all of them either too pale or too similar in shade—he had to apologize and admit that he couldn’t identify which one was the red folder. 

Truthfully, he doesn’t feel as bothered by his vision impairment as people expect him to be. Although it did sadden him when he was younger that he’ll never actually know how most of the world looks like, he just learned to be okay with it as he grew up. 

What Wriothesley dislikes about his condition is how people react to it when they find out. 

He’d need more than two hands to count how many times he’d been laughed at due to the poor color coordination of his clothes. Or if Wriothesley isn’t mocked, he’s patronized. People cast him unnecessary sympathetic stares, telling him how it’s a shame he doesn’t have normal vision. 

It’s annoying. It’s not like he’s completely blind, for fuck’s sake. 

So he expected a similar reaction from Neuvillette as well. 

However, all the man did was nod, confirming that he heard what Wriothesley said. “I see, are there any colors that you know you can accurately discern?”

“As far as I’m aware, blue is the color I always get right, sir.”

“I’ll take note of that.”

Neuvillette merely resumed examining paperwork after that, effectively ending their conversation. Wriothesley had assumed that the subject had been long forgotten since his colorblindness was never brought up again. 

At least, until he realized Neuvillette’s attire had become somewhat more striking lately, hooking Wriothesley’s attention for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. When his eyes accidentally landed on the man’s tie, that was when everything clicked. 

Neuvillette had begun to wear blue every single day. 

Wriothesley first chalked it to an arrogant presumption, but when Neuvillette showed up wearing a blue blazer one day, then blue slacks the next day, then tied his hair up to show off dangling blue earrings the day after—it was too obvious even for Wriothesley to ignore that the other male was deliberately incorporating the color into his attire. 

To nail the head into the coffin, Neuvillette directly asked him about the earrings. “Do you find them to your liking?”

Why does it matter if I like them? You’re the one wearing them. “Yes, sir. I like how, uh, blue they are.” Wriothesley dumbly replied. What else was he supposed to say?

Neuvillette hums in satisfaction. “They’ve fulfilled their purpose then.” 

Some days, however, Wriothesley’s wariness is proven reasonable. 

Like today. 

Because of course, right when Wriothesley finds himself believing in the idea that Neuvillette can be that one outlier who views him as a person, and not as a pawn for amusement like how the upper class have looked at him for most of his life, the world laughs at him and reminds him of where his place truly is—beneath Neuvillette’s feet. 

Currently, for the lack of a better word,  Neuvillette is pissed. 

An employee who was working in his family’s trading company had resigned, only to immediately work for a different trader and disclose key information they had learned during their time under the De la Cours. Wriothesley could hardly understand the jargon Neuvillette was throwing around on his phone call with a relative, just that saying them made the vein on the side of his forehead more and more prominent. 

“This is precisely why I always advise against hiring people into executive positions in the company when they don’t have any long-standing connections with our family,” Neuvillette massages the side of his head in exasperation. “We should place less value on their skills on paper and pay more attention to their loyalty. It becomes inconvenient when they end up wagging their tails to whoever waves a bill in front of their nose.” 

Wriothesley perks up upon hearing the latter part of Neuvillette’s statement. He feels called out, but now that it’s been brought up, it makes him wonder. 

Neuvillette knows that Wriothesley is also only here because he was promised a higher number than what he was earning as a boxer. And yet, he still allows the latter to be around him at every hour of every day. Most of the time, Wriothesley is within earshot of Neuvillette’s discussions with clients and fellow businessmen. While it’s true that he could care less about what they talk about, there’s not even a hint of caution from Neuvillette. 

Does it not bother him? 

“What does?” 

Oh, did he accidentally ask that outloud? Wriothesley turns to the lawyer and discovers that he has long put the phone down. Now, it’ll only be the two of them talking. 

There’s no turning back now then. “From your phone call, I couldn’t help but think that you seem to hate it when someone’s only in it for the money.”

“I acknowledge the undeniable truth that money is what makes the world go round, though knowing that doesn’t make me dislike it any less. Especially if their actions can directly implicate me.” 

“As your bodyguard, I’m always with you everywhere you go. I know information that even some of your own employees don’t and I have access to more.”

“I’m aware of that as well.”

“You were the one who put me into this position, then does it not bother you that I’m like everybody else?” Wriothesley presses. “Does it not bother you that my loyalty lies in your money?”

Neuvillette raises a brow, then chuckles, as if to imply that it was unnecessary and ridiculous that the question had even crossed Wriothesley’s mind. “Well, if money is what’s keeping you here, it’s a good thing I have a lot of it, no?” 

But that doesn’t answer the question. Wriothesley is about to ask again when the lawyer cuts him off. 

“And besides, I’m sure my dog knows that the same hand that picked him off the streets can easily throw him back out lest he becomes too aggressive,” Neuvillette casts him a look of indifference, yet it makes Wriothesley’s blood freeze all the same. “Do I stand corrected?”

“No, sir.” 

Wriothesley had underestimated him, disarmed by the kindness he’s been receiving since the first day he began working for the man. And as a result, he was made the center of a joke that only Neuvillette knew of. 

Neuvillette wasn’t respecting him as a person. He had been treating Wriothesley as a pet—being good to him in order to embed into his mind that he should never bite the hand that feeds him. 

(Wriothesley ignores the hurt, ignores his heart sinking as it whispered I thought you’d be different.)

He has a bad feeling about this. 

Since he started working, Wriothesley never felt any threat surrounding Neuvillette. He often wondered why the prosecutor wanted a personal bodyguard in the first place considering his days revolved around merely repeating the routine of sitting in the law firm, occasionally meeting with someone for business, then going home. 

Tonight however, his gut wrenches in suspicion, caution, and alertness; his adrenaline builds as his body warns him that there’s danger coming soon. Wriothesley has an inkling of what might be causing his nerves to spike, but prays that he’s wrong. 

At the moment, he’s trailing behind Neuvillette, who’s currently speaking with some slimy businessman named Virgil. 

Wriothesley trusts in his boss’s intelligence and senses enough to know that Neuvillette is purposely ignoring Virgil’s flirtations and innuendos, perhaps in favor of keeping the entire meeting civil. 

“I’m disappointed that you still haven’t responded to any of my invitations for dinner, Neuvillette.”

“I’m too busy at the firm. I thought you would be aware that silence is a response too, Virgil.”

The bodyguard mentally cringes at the indecency that Virgil is displaying. The fact that the latter told Neuvillette that his chosen meeting place for today is the largest private room in the nightclub he owns is certainly not helping either. 

Now that I think about it, Neuvillette places professionalism on a pedestal. Why would he agree on something so obviously suspicious like this?

Eventually, the three of them arrive in front of black double doors guarded by two club bouncers. 

Wriothesley is about to step into the room as well to follow Neuvillette when Virgil sneers at him. “Sorry, but guard dogs aren’t allowed inside. You can stay out here while the rich men talk.” 

Wriothesley barely prevents himself from rolling his eyes at the show of arrogance. 

Normally, he would’ve followed whatever order he’s given, regardless of whether the instruction came from Neuvillette or a client he’s talking to. At the end of the day, he’ll be paid for whatever it is anyway. 

Even right now, there’s a part of Wriothesley telling him that Neuvillette surely knows what he’s doing, that he’ll be reprimanded for overstepping if he dares object to Virgil’s demand. 

But then he recalls the repulsive look in Virgil's eyes whenever his gaze is in Neuvillette’s direction and it just becomes so easy to shut down that voice urging him to stay silent. 

(Because during the times where he was at the receiving end of that type of stare, Wriothesley silently hoped someone would help him out.

No one ever did.)  

If he gets fired for this, then at least he won’t have to deal with the guilt of leaving Neuvillette alone in this situation. 

“Sir, I apologize for my rudeness, but it would put me at ease if I could follow you inside as well.”

Mild astonishment makes its way to the said male’s face, though it leaves as soon as it came. It was impossible for him to not notice Wriothesley becoming even more distant than when they first met, so for the guard himself to state that he’d be more comfortable having him in his line of sight pleasantly surprised Neuvillette. 

“Very well,” Neuvillette softly grins at Wriothesley before returning to his usual expression of indifference and turning back to Virgil. “I will not continue this meeting if he can’t come in with me.” 

Virgil replies with gritted teeth. “Fine.” 

Despite the minutes passing by with Neuvillette and Virgil genuinely discussing their respective companies, Wriothesley keeps an eye out for anything odd. 

The tension brewing within him peaks when he witnesses Virgil pour a drink and hand it to Neuvillette. 

You’re too obvious, fucking pervert. 

Wriothesley moves faster than he can think, Neuvillette’s safety at the forefront of his mind. 

When he comes to, the entire drink is already down his throat. Up to the last drop. He thinks Virgil is screeching at him for being rude and disrespectful and whatnot, but he’s not entirely sure. 

All he can focus on is the expressions Neuvillette is carrying, stunned and twisted in deep worry. Perhaps a little angry as well. It’s the most emotion Wriothesley has ever seen on his face. “I was just going to pretend to accept the drink. I was never going to actually drink it, I knew it was drugged!” 

“Just wanted to make sure you’d be safe, I had no time for common sense,” Wriothesley isn’t sure when the laced beverage’s effects are going to kick in, or what the intended effects are in the first place. Before things go downhill, it’d be best to get rid of the pest now. “Sir, can I please throw out Virgil now?”

“…Sure. I’ll be exposing him tomorrow for embezzlement anyway, so you can let him enjoy his last few hours of freedom before he’s bankrupt and arrested.” 

Wriothesley doesn’t need to be told twice. With his fists clenched, he strides towards Virgil whose knees are already trembling. 

“Don’t you take another step, I will sue you for assault!” 

And that makes him pause. Virgil hasn’t laid a hand on him in particular, so if he were to do something now, it might be him who’s behind bars tomorrow. He can’t afford bail. How do lawsuits work in the first place? Most of all, what about Sigewinne—

“Stop worrying,” Neuvillette calls out to him, noticing his hesitations. Since when had he gotten so good at reading him? “I can protect you too.” 

Wriothesley didn’t forget that he was working for arguably the best lawyer in the country. However, he didn’t expect that Neuvillette would be on his side, let alone express it so outwardly. 

If there’s one thing the prosecutor values as much as the law, it’s his reputation. 

Even for Wriothesley who’s less familiar with how the system runs, it’s a no-brainer that justice never favors the lower class. Regardless of Virgil’s crimes that will soon be exposed, he can drag Wriothesley down with him as long as he points a finger. 

So if Neuvillette were to come to his defense, people would whisper to each other in disapproval. 

Yet still, he nods at Wriothesley. Trust me, he says with those unwavering blue eyes. 

It provides the bodyguard with the push he needed to guiltlessly land multiple punches across Virgil’s face. The first strike to the jaw is for even thinking of making an attempt to harm his boss in an utterly disgusting way. Wriothesley lands two more because now it’s him who has to deal with whatever was in the drugged beverage. Finally, the last three pounds to Virgil’s now shattered nose are for who else he has victimized in the past using the same method. 

Heat begins to stir within the deepest pits of Wriothesley’s stomach. 

He initially dismisses it as excitement from being given the opportunity to use his fists again. The months he has spent being a bodyguard have been relatively uneventful. While he isn’t necessarily wishing for Neuvillette to be in danger, not being in a brawl after financially relying on boxing for years felt unfamiliar. He’s been pushing his limits hustling in and out of boxing rings since he became old enough to work and fight. But now that all he has to do is stand and trail behind like a domesticated dog, he occasionally feels a little restless about not doing enough. 

All this to say Wriothesley perceives the feverish warmth rapidly coursing through his veins as adrenaline. 

However, when his throat began to feel too dry and the smallest movement gave his lower region some friction that felt too pleasurable to be considered normal, Wriothesley came to a dreadful epiphany. 

His excitement is for all the wrong reasons. 

He’s aroused. 

Wriothesley notices himself breathing heavier. He had assumed a drink with either a sleeping pill or aphrodisiac is the stunt Virgil was going to pull, but to experience it himself was something he didn’t prepare for. 

To prevent the pervert from further witnessing him in such a humiliating state, Wriothesley grabs him by his collar and drags him to the double doors to quite literally throw him out, leaving Virgil sprawled and wounded on the floor. The bodyguard also ensures the doors are locked. He can’t risk being in anyone’s presence until he calms down. 

“Wriothesley, what’s wrong? How are you feeling? What did Virgil drug you with?” 

Right. He almost forgot the most important part, the center of this entire situation. His boss is still fucking here, watching as Wriothesley is spiralling down to his base instincts. 

“Aphrodisiac,” he manages to reply. His voice is turning hoarse from restraint. Wriothesley forces his legs to move so he can sit on one of the couches. 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, sir. I’ll be completely alright in a few minutes.” 

But each second drives Wriothesley deeper into desperation. All he can think about is how much he desires to ruin, to bite, to be touched—

Okay. They’re currently in a nightclub where people meeting for one-and-done hookups are surely a normality. Plus it’s not like he’s never experienced sleeping with faceless strangers. At this point, he’s ready to do it in the club’s dirty bathroom with the first person that says yes. 

“Absolutely not. You are not allowed to leave this room until you are of sound mind.” 

Oh, was he speaking out loud again?

A large palm encases his wrist. The bodyguard doesn’t know when Neuvillette had sat so close to him. Their thighs are near enough to touch but not quite. It pours gasoline into the flaming heat of Wriothesley’s frustration. “Sir, I’m sorry that you’re seeing me like this and for being so unprofessional. But the only way I can calm down is if I ask for someone’s help, so please let me go, sir.” 

“I’ve already told you no.” 

The finality in the lawyer’s tone renders Wriothesley stuck to where he’s seated, the remaining lucid parts of him recall that the man next to him singlehandedly controls whether Wriothesley can put food on the table.  

“But what am I supposed to do?” he fails to keep himself from pleading. The plausible solution is to simply wait until the effects wear off, but neither of them know how long they’re supposed to last and he was never one to be patient. 

“Wriothesley, listen to me,” Neuvillette gently grips the other male by the chin and turns his head to his direction, ensuring that those icy blue-gray eyes are on him. Only him. “I can help you.”

Is he saying what Wriothesley thinks he’s saying?! “No I can’t let you do that, sir. I will not take advantage of you.” 

“Believe me, you should worry more about yourself,” Neuvillette musters what he hopes is a comforting smile. “I assure you that I will never do anything you’re not completely comfortable with, but for your peace of mind, I will not do something unless I want to as well.” 

Wriothesley isn’t fond of deception, regardless of whether he’s the one lying or the one at the receiving end. If someone were to ask him if he finds his own boss attractive, he’d grit his teeth as he admits that he does. Perhaps if Neuvillette was just another wealthy man, Wriothesley wouldn’t be having this dilemma to begin with.

The reality however, is that this alluring man in front of him is his literal employer. Someone he sees on a daily basis. How do two people act after the line between their professional and personal lives are blurred? 

Cross the bridge when you get there, the devil whispers in his ear. He already said yes, why say no when you want it too? 

Wriothesley releases a shaky breath. 

“Just… Just once. With your hand. And—“

He’s going to regret this. 

“You can kiss me.” 

And it’s going to taste so sweet. 

A dangerous glint appears within Neuvillette’s eyes, but before Wriothesley can question it, he’s being pulled by the tie into a searing kiss. It’s tongue and teeth and so devoid of all the elegance Neuvillette usually displays that it makes Wriothesley’s head spin. There’s no part of his mouth that’s left untouched by Neuvillette’s tongue and he sucks on the wet muscle in retaliation to let his boss know he’s not just going to sit here and take what he’s given. 

Wriothesley’s attempts to gain control slightly falter when a large palm crawls into his shirt and slides across his stomach. It continues its pace upwards, caressing his waist, his ribs, and halts at his chest. 

Much like the kiss, the touch is scorching hot. Warm yet relieves Wriothesley in all the right ways. He’d rather burn and blister than let those hands leave his skin. 

He hears a brief hum from Neuvillette, approving of the firm muscles he finds all over Wriothesley’s body. 

Wriothesley breaks away from the kiss for air, only to sharply gasp when Neuvillette abruptly places his other free hand on the bulge between the bodyguard’s legs. After his pants are unbuttoned, the zipper is opened at an agonizingly sluggish speed. 

“Sir, please don’t tease— ah,” Wriothesley slaps a palm over his mouth when he unintentionally moans after his erection is finally released from the confines of his underwear. 

“Now, I do have one rule that I’ll require you to follow,” Neuvillette pulls away the hand that was on Wriothesley’s hand and places it back down on the couch beside the latter’s knee. “Don’t be embarrassed and let me hear all the pretty sounds you’ll make, otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?”

“I’ll stop.” 

Perhaps that’s the better choice. Maybe they should turn back before everything is completely irreversible. 

But aren’t they already? the devil murmurs again. Everything already changed the second you two kissed. There’s no use stopping now. 

(Why does the devil’s voice sound just like Neuvillette’s?)

Wriothesley can’t resist, not when he’s already had a taste of what’s to come. Not when pleasure is so close, descending all over him like rainfall. 

So he stops biting his lower lip and opens his mouth, shamelessly moaning when a hand wraps around his cock and once more when Neuvillette thumbs at the slit. 

The pace Neuvillette begins with is slow; better than earlier but it’s far from enough. Judging by the smirk on his face, it’s clear that he’s aware of what he’s putting Wriothesley through. “You’re glaring at me, Wrio. What’s wrong?” 

The said male initially refuses to concede. Isn’t it degrading enough that he’s under the effects of an aphrodisiac against his will? And now he’s even being pushed to beg? 

“I’m fine, sir. Nothing is ugh— nothing’s wrong,” Wriothesley bucks his hips upwards. If Neuvillette isn’t going to actually help, then he’s fine with doing the work. 

However, it seems that his stubbornness has met its match, because not only does Neuvillette rub his cock even slower than before, he also takes away the hand that was previously on Wriothesley’s chest to grip the side of the bodyguard’s hip and prevent him from moving up. 

To make everything worse, the restraint is working. Neuvillette is strong enough to keep Wriothesley from thrusting into his hand. 

“Fucking hell,” Wriothesley curses under his breath. Every single assumption he’s had of Neuvillette is being proven wrong tonight and he’s not sure how much more of it he can handle. “Alright, fine!”

Wriothesley tugs at the hand encasing his hip, urging it to slide across his chest and abdomen again. “Sir, more. I want more. Please give me more.”

“Now that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Without warning, the palm gently gripping Wriothesley’s cock tightens and rubs it at a much fiercer pace. While it fails to completely wrap around the length, it compensates by occasionally twisting to ensure that no vein, no ridge is left untouched. 

Neuvillette’s other hand gets to work as well, alternately pinching and fondling Wriothesley’s nipples in a manner that causes the latter to visibly shiver and moan louder. 

“I know I said I wanted to hear you, but with how loud you’re getting, I’m worried that someone passing by outside can hear you too. We simply can’t have that,” Neuvillette dives back into Wriothesley’s open mouth, savoring every bit of it just as intensely as he did in the beginning. He swallows every sound that Wriothesley releases, as though they’re something for him alone to possess. 

Wriothesley promised himself he wouldn’t give in so easily, but his resolve is rapidly eroding in the face of the multiple stimulations Neuvillette is providing him with.

The relentless strokes around his oozing arousal. The slender fingers groping his chest and teasing his hardened nipples. The sensitive spot below his ear being sucked by a bold mouth whose only goal is to mark. 

“Ah, ugh, sir that’s-“ 

It’s all becoming too much.

“Go ahead, Wrio,” a deep voice later coaxes from beside him, its timbre is all that resonates within Wriothesley’s ears. “Cum.”

With that one command, Wriothesley falls apart in Neuvillette’s hands. He throws his head back as a  white, creamy substance makes a mess of his suit along with the sleeve of the latter’s blazer. 

As remnants of his pleasure continue to wash over him, Wriothesley senses a palm brush away the strands that clung to his sweaty forehead before gently sweeping through the rest of his hair. As someone who’s never been treated with any tenderness after engaging in intimacy, he almost wants to nuzzle into the hand. Almost. 

“You’ve been working for me for months now, but all I ever saw on your face was disinterest. Always so apathetic towards everything,” Neuvillette mumbles, but audible enough for the other male to hear. “Who knew you could make an expression like this too?” 

Wriothesley doesn’t know what exactly “this” meant, but the question somehow gives way for a petty competitiveness to rise within him. 

He’s well-aware of how experienced and skilled he’s become over the years. One would simply lose count should they try to track the number of men and women who’ve taken him to their bed. 

Yet in the face of this beautiful man, Wriothesley unraveled with nothing but a mere touch. 

It’s because of the drug, he tells himself. Tries to convince himself. Otherwise, this would’ve never happened. Or he’d bore me. 

Wriothesley glances down and smirks at a certain hardness he discovers, hidden beneath his boss’s slacks. He can’t be the only one who’s being humiliated right now. This entire ordeal happened because of Neuvillette, so it’s only right that he’s dragged down with him. “Sir, let me help you too.”

“No, do not feel obligated. Besides, to my knowledge, the effects of aphrodisiacs aren’t remedied by just a single ejaculation. I can keep going if you’d like.”

While it’s true that there’s still lingering desire curled at the bottom of his stomach, Wriothesley’s shattered ego refuses to allow this night to end with only a memory of his own weakness. 

Despite the additional hit to his pride, he lets himself nuzzle into the hand that was still brushing through his hair, hoping to lure the other into temptation. “Like you, I’ll only do what I want. So if you just say the word, I can please you as well, sir.”

“I-I already said you shouldn’t feel obligated. This is something I can easily handle on my own.”

This is the first time I’ve heard him stutter. “I don’t feel obligated. As I said, I’m doing this because I want to, sir.”

“Why? Why do you want to?”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t ask you earlier why you were so eager to help me. But if you must know,” At this point, Wriothesley can’t decipher whether it’s the drug or his sudden unreasonable confidence that’s talking right now, because it’s not him. It’s definitely not him because he’d never say— “It’s because making you feel good will make me feel good too.”

That seems to finally desecrate the last of Neuvillette’s restraint. Wriothesley knows it in the way the gentle strokes through his hair have turned into a harsh, almost hurtful, tug. 

“Do as you wish then.” 

Wriothesley doesn’t waste another second getting on his knees and slotting his body in between the lawyer’s legs. 

He carefully frees Neuvillette’s hardness from its confinement, biting back a gasp upon finding that his boss is… very much well-endowed. Quite similar to Wriothesley’s own length. 

Smugness courses through Wriothesley as he observes the precum already leaking from Neuvillette’s dick. “Sir, I haven’t even started. Your excitement flatters me.” 

“I don’t believe you should be the one talking about excitement considering you were whimpering for more directly into my ear just a few minutes earlier.” 

Wriothesley suddenly doesn’t feel so smug anymore. “I was not whimpering. I never whimper,” he petulantly retorts before finally getting to work.

He begins with slow, open-mouthed kisses along the shaft then lightly licks the slit. A few seconds pass by before he opens his mouth to start sucking on the twitching cock. However, instead of taking in the entire length like Neuvillette had hoped, Wriothesley remains swirling his tongue around the tip and goes only as far as the cockhead. 

Frustration makes itself present on Neuvillette’s face. Wriothesley can tell the former is trying to be a gentleman by clenching his fists to prevent himself from unceremoniously shoving all of his cock down the kneeling man’s throat. 

How sweet. 

Too bad Wriothesley wants to push him, wants to see what Neuvillette looks like underneath that unshakable mask of detachment. (But really, it’s also mostly payback for the teasing he got a while ago.) “Is there something you want, sir? Please feel free to tell me what it is so I can please you better.”

“You. I want you, Wrio.”

The said male briefly pauses from his ministration, not at all expecting for Neuvillette to give in so quickly without hesitation. All those back-to-back meetings and stacks of paperwork must have left him needy. 

Another grunt from Neuvillette snaps Wriothesley out of his musings. It’s only then that he engulfs the lawyer’s cock in one go, pushing until the head is right against his throat. He makes sure to swipe his tongue over every ridge all the way to the base, not at all caring about the drool that escapes the corners of his mouth. He admits Neuvillette is girthier than everyone he’s blown, meanwhile he beats Wriothesley himself in terms of length. 

To further encourage Neuvillette into release, Wriothesley hollows his cheeks as he bobs his head back and forth. A hand also climbs up to fondle Neuvillette’s balls, eliciting a pleased gasp from the male. 

Now, Wriothesley has absolutely no problem lasting long in sex, regardless of whether it’s his mouth or hips that are moving. 

But as more time passed by, he couldn’t help but let his mind drift. 

Are blowjobs supposed to take this long?

Wriothesley has done every technique that successfully pushed his past clients into finishing, occasionally humming as well to stimulate Neuvillette’s dick through vibrations. 

Drool and precum have long soaked his collar. His jaw is beginning to ache from being forced wide open for so long. Wriothesley never ceased sucking on the member. And still—

“Keep going,” Neuvillette orders, his cock still red and rock hard. 

Despite his experience, the time it’s taking for Neuvillette to finish is starting to cause Wriothesley to doubt his skills. Is Neuvillette’s stamina just that exceptional or is Wriothesley not that good after all? He sincerely hopes it’s the former. 

However, if it turns out that it’s the latter case, then he’d rather stop the farce now. Even if his self-image has to take irreversible damage. 

Wriothesley abruptly releases the length in his mouth with a pop. “Sir, if this is not pleasing to you. then we can—“

Neuvillette doesn’t even let him finish speaking before he grabs a handful of Wriothesley’s hair and shoves his cock back down to the back of his bodyguard’s throat. 

“Finish the job,” he nearly growls. His hips thrust upward as he pulls Wriothesley’s head down. “You feel so good, Wrio.” 

Wriothesley can’t even linger on the ego-saving compliment, not when Neuvillette’s cock is relentlessly driving against his windpipe to the point it’s starting to burn. 

The seconds feel like minutes and the minutes feel like hours. All Wriothesley can do is keep a bruising grip to Neuvillette’s thighs and try his best to breathe through his nose. 

He should feel disgusted. Disrespected even, considering he knows how Neuvillette actually views him and the fact that he’s using him much like how the other rich bastards did in the past. 

But Neuvillette just looks so beautiful from down here. The ceiling light illuminates his lustrous white hair from above and behind, casting a glow akin to a warm halo. His normally indifferent eyes are pervaded with desire as he sings endless praises of you’re doing so good, Wrio. You’re being so good for me. 

It’s such a new sight. Has Neuvillette looked at others like this? 

(Wriothesley doesn’t know what he wants the answer to be to that question.) 

Finally, with one last thrust, Neuvillette groans and sends thick spurts of cum straight into the other male’s throat. 

The hand placing pressure on the back of his head ensures that Wriothesley stays where he is. Though it’s not like he wasn’t already eager to devour every drop to begin with. 

“Forgive me for being so rough towards the end,” Eventually, Neuvillette allows him to pull away. He grips Wriothesley’s chin and tugs to keep his mouth open, staring as though to inspect whether the latter indeed swallowed everything. 

When Neuvillette lets his chin go without another word, Wriothesley knows he’s satisfied with what he found. 

Silence is what follows them next, interrupted only by their huffs of breath. Wriothesley remains pinned to the floor both by exhaustion and the magnitude of Neuvillette’s gaze. 

“If you could only see yourself from my eyes, you’d understand why I didn’t want you to leave this room in your earlier state,” Neuvillette’s focus shifts from Wriothesley’s reddened cheeks, the sweat sliding down his scarred neck, to the unwiped saliva and cum dribbling down his chin. 

Neuvillette cradles his bodyguard’s cheek. 

(A part of Wriothesley begrudgingly hopes that he is being held with fondness.) 

“I couldn’t let anyone else see you like this— couldn’t even stand the thought of it.” 

As Wriothesley returned Neuvillette’s revelation with merely a dazed stare—still not all there after having his face fucked for almost an hour straight—a soft voice hidden within the very back of his mind reminded him of the statement Neuvillette made amidst his growing desperation. 

When Wriothesley had asked him what he wanted, Neuvillette did not simply say he wanted more, like how Wriothesley himself had when he was the one being teased. 

You. I want you, Wrio. 

(Wriothesley hates that despite his reluctance and hurt, he hopes. Something he thought he had long given up on doing. He hopes and hopes and hopes.) 

After being forced to stop fighting underground, Wriothesley instead went to boxing gyms to continue having an outlet. 

Neuvillette gave him a day-off after the previous night’s incident. With Sigewinne still currently in school, Wriothesley had nothing else to distract himself with and thus turned to landing strike after strike on a punching bag. 

It’s not going well. 

Every jab reminds him of how warm Neuvillette’s firm grasp was around his cock. Every pound gives him flashbacks of how heavy his boss’s manhood was in his mouth. Every swing of the bag brings back memories of Neuvillette’s melodious moans and him telling how good Wriothesley was being. 

Nothing is going well.

It doesn’t help that following that night, Neuvillette has become noticeably… friendlier towards him, for a lack of a better word. 

(The actual term Wriothesley initially used to describe the prosecutor’s recent behavior is doting, but he determines that genuinely believing Neuvillette is trying to pamper him out of all people is going far beyond the haughtiest arrogance.)  

Neuvillette has been driving him home at the end of every work day. Has been telling Wriothesley—rather than just asking him like he frequently would in the past—to sit down and eat with him at the same table.

(These actions give way for another dilemma; for every time they happen, Wriothesley doesn’t know what to focus on. 

When they’re in Neuvillette’s car, should he pay attention to the lawyer’s effort to start conversation in an evident attempt to genuinely know more about Wriothesley, or let himself be distracted by how little the distance is between his thigh and Neuvillette’s hand on the car’s gear shift?

When they dine together, should he note how Neuvillette ensures to only order food that Wriothesley likes, or focus on how Neuvillette keeps finding a way for their fingers to accidentally brush whenever Wriothesley’s hand is resting on the table?

It’s like Wriothesley isn’t sure whether the warmth he’s been experiencing lately with Neuvillette is on its way to thaw his frozen heart, or rushing down to his dick.) 

Neuvillette has also gone as far as buying the other male and Sigewinne luxury clothes. When Wriothesley strongly insisted that his boss shouldn’t be doing that for him, Neuvillette told him that he’s free to sell or do whatever else he wants with the clothes. All Wriothesley has to do is accept them. Otherwise, Neuvillette will dump them all into trash. 

Hence the growing size of his and Sigewinne’s closets. 

Now, Wriothesley is currently cheering his daughter on as she twirled around to show off the new dress she received from Neuvillette. “You like it?” he asks the little girl with obvious fondness in his tone. 

“I love it!” Sigewinne swings the hems of her sundress from side to side. “Mister big boss is so kind! Did you say thank you to him?”

“Of course I did! I’m the one who taught you to always say thank you when someone gives you a gift, you know.” 

“Papa.”

Wriothesley still melts inside each time he hears the eight year old call him that. “Yes, my baby?”

“Does mister big boss have a crush on you?”

The male chokes on his spit. “N-No, what- what made you say that?”

“He keeps giving us gifts,” Sigewinne points out. “Your old bosses never gave you gifts, just money and bruises.” 

Wriothesley winces as he gets reminded of how bad of an example he used to be to his daughter, so clearly struggling financially and always beat up from the boxing ring or other odd jobs. “Well, no he doesn’t have a crush on me. He’s just a nice boss who wanted to reward me for doing a good job at work.” 

In fact, he’s too nice, a little demon hovers around his shoulder. He quickly swats it away before it can force him to recall any of the more inappropriate details of just how nice Neuvillette is. 

“Hm, that’s too bad. I would’ve been okay with him liking you.” 

Wriothesley’s neck snaps towards Sigewinne’s direction. “And why is that?” 

The little girl rakes her eyes all over the dress she’s currently wearing. Although this absolutely does not mean that she appreciates her old clothes any less, she can pick up on the disparity in quality between those and the ones her father’s employer gave her. 

“Because Papa deserves someone who’ll take care of him too. For once.” 

Wriothesley falls silent. Is that what it was? 

It had never crossed his mind that Neuvillette was actually trying to take care of him, or that he was doing it out of romantic intentions. 

Buying him food and new clothes. Driving him home. Wearing something blue everyday. Asking about what he likes. Making sure that he eats on time. 

Telling him that he wants him. 

And more. When Wriothesley lists it all like that, it becomes easy to observe that absolutely none of those things are normal to do for someone you only view as a lowly subordinate. Right? 

This is horrible. He’s actually allowing himself to entertain the thought of Neuvillette liking him. 

“Oh! Papa, your ears are red. Are you okay?” 

And it’s flustering him. 

Unfortunately, his internal turmoil follows him to work over the course of the next few days. 

He’s been unable to maintain eye contact with Neuvillette, something he never had difficulty doing before. 

Because he’s been occupied with the mental gymnastics of sorting out his own emotions and how he’d react to a future where his boss confessed to him, Wriothesley has also become less responsive lately in the conversations that Neuvillette has been putting effort into starting. 

Soon after, his receptiveness to any kind of physical touch from Neuvillette deteriorates as well. Despite the instinct to lean into it, Wriothesley ends up flinching away out of bashfulness, afraid that close contact with Neuvillette will give him a blush that’ll be too red to ignore. 

It takes only a few days for Neuvillette’s sharp eyes to notice the other male’s strange behavior. 

When he orders Wriothesley to come into his office with a solemn look, one that’s even more stern than usual, the bodyguard knows he’s been caught. 

“Is there something that’s been bothering you lately?” he questions, straight to the point. 

Never been one to lie, Wriothesley answers candidly. “Yes, sir.”

“Is it about Sigewinne? Or perhaps you’re having a financial issue? I’ve told you before that I have no problem providing that type of assistance.”

“No, sir. Sigewinne is more than alright. In fact, she’s grateful for all your gifts. We’re no longer having problems with money as well, the salary you pay me is exorbitantly more than I deserve.” 

“If the problem isn’t at home, then is there something here at work that’s been bothering you?”

“..Yes, sir.”

“Is the issue related to me?”

Neuvillette hits it right on the mark. Once again, Wriothesley wonders since when had the former been so good at reading him. 

Might as well come clean about everything. “Sir, I deeply apologize for failing to properly focus on my job. But that night, when we-“ Wriothesley coughs. “The night when we met Virgil has been on my mind.” 

He pauses to put all his recent thoughts together in a way that won’t cause him to give off an impression of a boy whose fantasies of their crush have surpassed common sense. 

Wriothesley can’t reveal how he’s been pondering on the possibility of Neuvillette holding romantic feelings for him and how he doesn’t mind. More importantly, he shouldn’t talk about how in the face of all the years Wriothesley spent doubting the wealthy, all Neuvillette had to do to weaken his mistrust was kiss him and ask what color he can see. 

At least, he can’t talk about them yet. Not until he receives confirmation that Neuvillette thinks about all these things as much as he does. 

However, just as Wriothesley finally finds the right words to say, the prosecutor beats him to it. 

“If you’d rather forget about that night, then I can do the same. We can treat it as an.. accident.”

Wriothesley freezes. 

“After all, what we did was merely a result of Virgil’s schemes. You don’t have to carry it as a burden.” 

Even Wriothesley acknowledges that nothing would’ve happened between them if Virgil was at least half of a decent man. But that’s the thing—Virgil wasn’t and something did happen. The incident was a catalyst that turned Neuvillette from an oddly generous boss to a nice person whose company and attention Wriothesley wants to relish in. 

Such a turning point to Wriothesley is a mere accident to Neuvillette?

The former opens his mouth to refute and argue that no, forgetting about it is the last thing he wants. 

But then what if Neuvillette said that because it reflects his own thoughts about what happened? He wouldn’t say something that never crossed his mind. 

Then why? Wriothesley frantically contemplates. Why gain my trust only to break it each time?

“Thank you, sir. That’s precisely what I wanted to request from you,” he coldly replies. Ignoring the painful twisting sensation in his chest, he continues. “I’m glad we’re able to move past such a terrible mistake.” 

When Neuvillette refrains from responding, he takes it as a chance to leave the office.

Neuvillette watches him walk away. He doesn’t lead Wriothesley to his car to drive him home tonight either. 

On the bus ride home, Wriothesley stares at the heavy precipitation outside through the window. It hasn’t been this rainy in a while. 

He humorlessly chuckles, wondering how miserable he must be at the moment for even the skies to cry in sympathy for him. 

Wriothesley ended up requesting to have an entire week off, using fake sickness as an excuse. 

He doesn’t know who he’s angrier towards; Neuvillette for reaching out a hand only to take it back, or himself for being tricked by the joke each time. Either way, Wriothesley needs time away to completely revert back to the apathetic demeanor that he had when he first met Neuvillette. Hence the week-long leave. 

Having nothing else to occupy himself with while Sigewinne isn’t around, he returns to the only place he can vent his frustrations in—the boxing gym. He sticks to the punching bags though, not trusting himself to be stable if he were to spar with a person. 

“Hey, are you trying to find out if it’s possible to kill an inanimate object?” 

Wriothesley ceases his punching when he hears a familiar voice. Relief floods through him when his best friend’s smile is what greets him. 

“Navia, I need to tell you something.”

“I can’t believe you slept with the Neuvillette.” 

“I mean I didn’t sleep with him technically. There was no, uh, no penetration.”

“Oh but there will be soon.”

“Navia!”

The brunette’s laughter tinkle like bells, clearly amused by the situation Wriothesley is in. When the male casts her another glare, she coughs and schools her expression into a more serious one. “Alright, my bad. So you were intimate with a rich man, that night was far from your first time doing that. Why does it matter now that it was with Neuvillette?” 

Truthfully, Wriothesley already has an inkling to the reason behind why he couldn’t dismiss what happened as a one-time affair like he did with others who have paid him to do the same and more. He just can’t admit it outloud, acknowledging how shallow and anticlimactic the cause is. 

But he finds solace in Navia’s kindness. She has proven countless times during their close friendship that she’ll always validate whatever Wriothesley is feeling, no matter how “trivial” the matter appears to be. 

For today, Wriothesley wishes to be understood by her gentle heart once more. 

“He was right and I hate it,” he confesses. “Dogs don’t bite the first hand that feeds them. They nestle into it and be obedient, praying that the warm hand won’t leave.” 

Navia remains silent, signaling Wriothesley to continue. 

“It’s so pathetic. Just because he’s the first rich person to ever be remotely nice to me, I’m stupidly holding onto this perception that he’s different from the rest, when he quite literally told me to my face that I’m nothing but a pet to him that he can abandon anytime,” Wriothesley rambles, his heart rapidly beating. Unstopping. “And instead of resenting him and quitting, all I can think about is that I don’t want him to throw me away.”

If someone told Wriothesley from last year that his future self would be so desperate to stay beside one of those rich people he disliked so much, he’d shut them up with a strike to the jaw. 

Yet here he is now, his lips still burning from the memory of that rich man kissing him. 

“It’s not- you’re not pathetic,” Navia places a hand on his shoulder, as though to convey her concern through the touch. “You like someone because they’re good to you and there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s also completely normal. Honestly? This is probably the most normal problem you’ve had so far.” 

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, then releases a helpless sigh. “He’s even nice to Sigewinne too, how could I ignore that?” 

“I know. You’re weak to that.”

“He buys me things without me asking. I feel like a sugar baby.”

“He’s a provider then, aren’t you charmed?”

“Not at all. I can handle it all myself.”

“I thought you hated lying,” Navia jokes, before casting the male next to her a more meaningful grin. “You know, I’m happy that someone wants to take care of you.”

The affection overflowing in her eyes takes away at least half the load on Wriothesley’s shoulders. He’ll never tell Navia, but he admires how she seems to have a talent for making people feel better no matter what she does. Perhaps it’s rooted in her radiant presence itself. If so, Wriothesley is silently even more grateful that he can call her his best friend. 

“I just wish you’d let him—do that for you I mean,” Navia’s smile tells him that it’ll be okay. And Wriothesley always believes her. “You deserve to be taken care of too. I hope you stop forgetting that.” 

The next week, Wriothesley comes back from his leave to accompany Neuvillette to a banquet for various executives from different companies. The latter is attending not as a prosecutor, but as a representative of his family’s trading company. 

While he gazes longingly at Neuvillette who’s currently surrounded by people who are actually in the same social standing as him, Wriothesley is left stuck standing on one side of the hall with other bodyguards and security staff. 

Stuck with Tartaglia, more specifically. 

“I still think it’s a shame your boss shut down every underground boxing ring he could find, they were the only places I could fight when I’m off work,” Tartaglia rambles. He’s been doing so for the past twenty minutes or so; Wriothesley has long lost count. “I just want to say that you were one of my favorite opponents by the way, your eyes were dead but you dominated in terms of experience. Oh, we should exchange numbers so we can contact each other again for another fight!”

Wriothesley’s eye twitches in irritation. He fought with Tartaglia once and the younger male is acting as though they’re friends. “No thanks.”

“Come on! It can be like a fight to see who’s the better bodyguard or something.”

“That already sounds stupid.” 

Another thing that irks Wriothesley about the ginger is that he fought in the ring for the sake of survival. Meanwhile, Tartaglia boxed simply because he’s sick in the head and thought it would be fun. 

Based on what Wriothesley has learned from the other’s anecdotes, Tartaglia is the fourth child among seven siblings and their parents love them all equally. 

Maybe Wriothesley might actually accept Tartaglia’s endless offers to brawl, just so he can beat some sense into him so Tartaglia can finally see how lucky he is that he doesn’t have to crawl from the bottom up to live such a blessed life.

“Anyway, stop being reckless with your well-being. Your family will get worried and you’ll be able to take care of them only if you’re healthy,” the older of the two grunts. 

Tartaglia blinks, then flashes a boyish grin. “I knew we were friends. You’re even worried about me!”

“I said your family will worry. I don’t care what happens to you!”

Tartaglia guffaws at Wriothesley’s growing aggravation. “You’re so easy to piss off.”

“I’m not easy to piss off, you just have a penchant for being more infuria—“

“And what are we laughing about over here?” 

Wriothesley inwardly groans. The newcomer was one more reason why he didn’t want to linger around Tartaglia for too long. Obviously where the bodyguard is, that must be where his boss is as well.

Tartaglia’s presence here means that Pantalone is also close by. 

And now, they’re all meeting each other face-to-face. 

“Wriothesley, fancy seeing you here,” Pantalone greets cheerfully. 

“Wish I could say the same,” the said male mutters. He doesn’t necessarily dislike Pantalone; that would imply that he cares about him in the first place. What’s causing his discomfort is the unnerving grin Pantalone usually wears. Wriothesley hates that he could never decipher it from then until now.  

“I didn’t think you’d end up working for someone considering how… untamed you seemed when you were a boxer. Whose bait did you end up taking?”

“I was hired by Neuvi—“

“It doesn’t matter. Why don’t you work for me instead? The reason why I hired Tartaglia in the first place is because you refused my offer.”

“Hey!” Tartaglia’s indignant cry is ignored. 

Pantalone continues. “How ever much you’re getting paid right now, I know that you’re aware I can pay you much more than that.”

Wriothesley restrains himself from rolling his eyes. He’s also aware that Pantalone dabbles into illegal matters much more life-threatening than underground boxing, hence the source of his bottomless income. “The things you’ll make me do are more dangerous than what I already did in the ring. So no thank you, I’m content with my job now.” 

“Hm, well if you don’t want to be one of my guards,” Pantalone creeps closer to whisper into Wriothesley’s ear, one of his gloved palms gripping the bodyguard’s shoulder in a predatory manner. “Why not be my whore?”

Wriothesley feels his last thread of restraint snap. He’s learned to condition himself into taking every sneer and insult against him without as much as a glance. However, there are certain wounds from his past that will never heal; being reminded of what he was cornered into doing will always hurt. 

Wriothesley roughly shoves off the hand on his shoulder and hisses. “Do not fucking touch me. I let you lay your disgusting hands on me back then but that’s a regret I will never allow myself to have again, regardless of how much you’ll pay me. Leave me the fuck alone.” 

Pantalone is unfazed. In fact, the amused glint in his eyes only brightens. Wriothesley is a mere step away from beating the businessman’s face into a pulp, just so he doesn’t have to see that skin-crawling grin anymore. 

Just as he was about to grab Pantalone’s collar, Wriothesley sensed an imposing presence behind him. 

“Do you need something from my employee?” 

The sheer relief that floods through Wriothesley when he realizes Neuvillette is now with him almost makes his knees buckle. 

“Not really, I was just trying to recruit him for myself. A shame he’s not interested,” Pantalone tilts his head, a telltale sign that he’s about to say something that he knows will piss someone off. “Though he’s also welcome to warm my bed again anytime he’s free.” 

Wriothesley’s cheeks redden not out of embarrassment, but out of pure utter rage. 

What did he do so bad that made him deserve being humiliated like this in front of Neuvillette? 

If there was one thing Wriothesley wanted to desperately hide from Neuvillette, it would be how low he stooped to get paid. He doesn’t regret his past as he knows who it was all for. But he couldn’t help but worry about what Neuvillette would think of him now. 

Would he view Wriothesley as someone too tainted to keep even as a pet? 

“Wrio,” he barely hears Neuvillette’s voice amidst the blood rushing in his ears. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

The next few moments pass by in a blur. Wriothesley doesn’t recall whether they even gave Pantalone a proper goodbye before leaving, or how he willed his stiff legs to follow Neuvillette to his hotel room in the same building. 

He’s brought back to reality only once the two of them are left alone in the room with Neuvillette’s back turned to him. 

A sinking sensation settles in Wriothesley’s stomach, warning him the time has come for him to be discarded. 

“Tell me, what is it that makes me so unworthy of your attention?” 

“Sir?” Wriothesley breathes. Did he hear that right? He had to have heard the question incorrectly, albeit the palpable desperation woven beneath it making it all too real. “What do you mean?” 

Neuvillette faces him this time, only the ghost of a frown on his mouth yet his piercing stare alone is enough to notice his apparent frustration. “It took months for you to look at me with anything but disinterest, despite the fact that I was the one who’d be within your sight the most. Then you push me away every time I thought we’d made progress. And yet all it takes for some strangers to get you to look at them is a simple moment of conversation?” 

Neuvillette slowly lessens the proximity between them with each word until Wriothesley’s back is against the wall. “Sir I don’t- I don’t understand.”

“Is it true that you’ve been in Pantalone’s bed? Is that why he could make you blush so easily?”

Wriothesley couldn’t help releasing an offended gasp at the misunderstanding. “I did not blush out of shyness. I was ang—“

“I was courting you. The gifts and the ridiculous excuses to spend more time with you—I was courting you. Have you really not been aware?”

The bodyguard’s heart stutters. “What?” 

Wriothesley feels more than he hears Neuvillette’s whispered confession. “I was yearning to make you mine,” he brings one of Wriothesley’s hands to his cheek and leans into the rough yet warm touch. “Mine to take care of. Mine to love. Mine.”

Wriothesley’s attention shifts between the unwavering eyes searching his and the luscious lips that are temptingly close. “I didn’t know.” 

“If you had known, what would you have done?” 

The inquiry is a provocation. At least that’s what Wriothesley is hoping it is. With the miniscule distance between them, he’d have to be a saint to ignore the chance presented on a platter in front of him. 

But he’s not a saint. He’s just a loyal dog who had turned greedy. 

So Wriothesley snakes an arm around Neuvillette’s waist and flips their positions, smashing his lips onto the beautiful man’s pair with passion he can no longer keep at bay. 

Pressing Neuvillette further into the wall, his hand that was on the other’s waist slides down the side of Neuvillette’s thigh to raise his leg and wrap it around Wriothesley’s own waist. With this, their crotches are pushed onto each other’s. It drives Wriothesley insane to know that mere pieces of fabric are the only barriers left between his and Neuvillette’s arousals.

Wriothesley licks a stripe across Neuvillette’s bottom lip to ask for permission, wasting no time exploring the wet cavern when he’s granted it. 

Eventually, he becomes vexed by Neuvillette’s clothing, desiring to directly feel the soft skin and firm muscles. He breaks away from the kiss to dip into the crook of Neuvillette’s neck, sucking and nibbling as he opens the buttons of his boss’s polo one by one. Wriothesley inhales and groans upon smelling the delectable combination of Neuvillette’s cologne and sweat.  

“Is this how you touched Pantalone too?”

Wriothesley halts his ministration, moving immediately to squash down any more of the other’s misunderstandings. “That was in the past and I only did it because he paid me to. But this- I genuinely want this. Please believe me, sir.” 

“So you did sleep with him.”

“Sir I-“

Before Wriothesley can further refute, Neuvillette clasps his wrist in a crushing grip and drags him to the bed, pushing the former down with surprising strength. 

Neuvillette crawls over him, wedging a knee in between Wriothesley’s legs, purposely rubbing it against his groin. Meanwhile, his free hand envelopes Wriothesley’s neck. “Just how many strangers have taken you home?”

It’s a rhetorical question, he knows. Wriothesley answers honestly anyway. “…I have serviced many other men and women in exchange for money.” 

He thinks jealousy flashes in the eyes of the man looming over him, but ignores it in favor of focusing on breathing as the cage around his neck tightens by the second. 

A moment passes by with Neuvillette wordlessly keeping him pinned down by the neck. There’s a storm of unreadable emotions in his eyes, likely contemplating on something only he knows. 

“That’s a shame, though not unexpected. Nonetheless,” Neuvillette eventually removes his hand from Wriothesley’s neck to unzip the guard’s pants. “I don’t suppose you’ve been in the position where you were the one being fucked.”

Wriothesley is caught off guard by the crude language, deviating from the prosecutor’s typical manner of speaking. “Sir?”

“Am I right?”

“…Yes, sir.” And it’s true. Wriothesley served as the top for every single one of his past clients; it would be the obvious case when it was with women, while all the men that had hired him preferred to be the one being penetrated. It’s why he instinctively took control a few minutes prior before Neuvillette’s statement caused him to pause. 

He was okay with that as it enabled him to hide in a way. He had never been the one in such a vulnerable position. 

Laying beneath Neuvillette like this isn’t only an act of lust, it signifies his faith that the former would never do anything to take advantage of him. 

Perhaps I trust Neuvillette more than I thought. 

However, he has to confirm one more thing before he lets himself go.

Wriothesley tucks Neuvillette’s hair behind his ears. “Promise me you won’t call this night an accident. Promise me that you want this too.”

Neuvillette places a soft kiss on the palm cradling his cheek. His tone is much gentler than earlier as he replies. “I was lying that day. I said that we can forget about it only because I assumed it was what you wanted too. But I promise I won’t say something like that ever again.”

“And my second request?” 

“It seems you’ve forgotten what I told you when we first met, so I’ll remind you—I want this, Wrio. I want you.”

For the first time in his life, Wriothesley’s heart is full. “I want you too.” 

Neuvillette dives into the other’s lips for a slower, more sensual kiss. It’s less hasty, as if trying to convey his sincere adoration of Wriothesley as a whole and not just his body. 

However, in contrast to their unhurried manner of making out, Neuvillette’s hand makes quick work of Wriothesley’s pants. The latter didn’t even notice when both his pants and underwear had been completely pulled away, only realizing when a palm abruptly encased his hardened member. 

Wriothesley pulls away from the kiss to sharply gasp. It feels just like that first night, if not more pleasurable now that he’s not drugged. 

Neuvillette doesn’t grant him a moment for composure, immediately stroking Wriothesley’s entire shaft, before moving down to engulf one of his nipples. 

“A-Ah, sir, mhm.” Recalling the lawyer’s previous threat of stopping if he attempts to hide his moans, Wriothesley stomps down on whatever remains of his pride. “Please keep going. Ugh, ah!” 

After repeatedly biting and flicking the now swollen nub with his tongue, Neuvillette shifts to provide the other nipple with the same treatment. As he does so, he quickens the pace of his hand around Wriothesley’s cock, trying to encourage the guard into an orgasm. 

Wriothesley breathes more heavily when he senses that he’s close. He’s at the edge, tiptoeing on the cusp. A little more and—

Neuvillette stops, letting go of the pitiful, leaking cock.

“W-What? Sir, what-“ 

“You’ll cum only once I’m buried deep inside you.” 

Wriothesley wills himself to hold back a whine. 

This is going to be a long fucking night. 

A cold, lubed finger later circles around his rim. “This might feel slightly uncomfortable at first.” is his only warning before the long finger fully enters into his hole. 

Wriothesley grunts. The sensation inside him is admittedly unfamiliar, though not necessarily unpleasant. 

Neuvillette relentlessly thrusts that one finger then inserts another, ensuring that it’s knuckle-deep whenever he pushes it back inside. “You’re already so tight with just my fingers. It makes me wonder how delicious it’d be to have you clench around me.” 

“Stop- ah, stop talking like that, sir,” Wriothesley gripes. The way Neuvillette is talking to him right now makes the entire night feel all the more sinful. 

“You’re adorable, Wrio.” 

He’s helpless as a third then a fourth digit burrows into his ass, the slide much smoother than when Neuvillette inserted the first finger. In turn, Wriothesley’s moans increase in volume. He can’t help it, not when the speed at which Neuvillette is thrusting his fingers leaves no room for any thoughts of holding back. 

It happens before he realizes what he did. One moment, he was bucking against the fingers inside him, and the next his dick was releasing white, sticky fluid all over his stomach and chest. 

“We need to work on your patience, Wrio. I believe I told you that you can only cum once I’m inside you. Well, nothing to worry about,” Neuvillette takes his fingers out and even moves away from the bed itself, leaving Wriothesley confused and utterly empty. “It’s only your first orgasm of the night anyway.” 

Only the first? 

Wriothesley briefly hears the rustling sound of clothes removed and dropped to the floor. Soon after, the bed dips once more as Neuvillette looms over him. 

“One last chance to tell me to stop, Wrio,” Neuvillette tells him with thinly-veiled hunger. “After this, I’m afraid I’ll have a harder time listening.”

Wriothesley feels something wet and heavy press against his rim. He’s never felt a craving as strong as this. “I trust you, sir.”

That’s all the permission Neuvillette needs. He finally slips his cockhead into Wriothesley’s hole, provoking a whimper from the latter. 

Wriothesley will beat himself up later for allowing himself to release such an embarrassingly high-pitched sound. But for now, his nails scrape against Neuvillette’s back as the length inside him slowly inches deeper. 

Holy fucking shit, is this how full he made his clients feel? 

“Big… T-Too big, sir.”

“A bit more, Wrio. We’re barely halfway.”

Drool escapes the corners of Wriothesley’s mouth as a small part of him internally shrieks. What do you mean we’re not even halfway?!

Now that he’s not clocked out via an aphrodisiac, Wriothesley is more sensitive to Neuvillette’s purple eyes intensely staring at his every expression, to Neuvillette’s touch, to Neuvillette’s dominating presence—to Neuvillette. Because of how generous the man has been towards him, Wriothesley occasionally forgets how much power his boss holds as a famous prosecutor and businessman. 

Though his ass stretching is sure to be a lasting reminder.

With every inch, Wriothesley’s sanity erodes and so do his inhibitions until they’re practically reduced to nothing. 

“Neuvi- ah, Neuvillette.” 

Wriothesley screams when the cock that was unhurriedly pressing into him forces itself inside to the base in a singular, harsh thrust. 

“Wait.. W-Wait I-“ He can’t even cry out that it hurts as the length penetrating him already started building a steady pace. A choked breath is drawn out from him for each time Neuvillette’s balls ram into his ass. 

“I apologize. I’m sorry, Wrio. I truly swore to myself to be gentle. But, ugh, that was the first time you’ve ever said my name. I couldn’t- I can’t help it,” Neuvillette pounds into him with increasing force. “Say.. Say it again, Wrio. Say my name again.” 

Fortunately, the initial pain soon melds with a more pleasurable sensation. It also helps that Neuvillette tries to distract him from the discomfort by fondling his now sensitive nipples, while leaving marks on the erogenous spots on his neck. 

“Neuvillette, ah, agh. Neuvillette. Neuvi!” 

Apparently, it doesn’t take much for Neuvillette to let go of his own reservations either, made clear by the way he’s become reckless in plowing into Wriothesley simply because his name was called. 

The sheer force of Neuvillette’s thrusts causes Wriothesley to budge upwards only to be slammed back down by strong arms. He physically feels his insides struggle to accommodate the size driving itself home within him, compelled to perfectly mold themselves according to the shape of Neuvillette’s cock. 

And yet he locks his ankles together over Neuvillette’s lower back to keep the two of them close. 

“Neuvillette- ugh, ah, don’t stop. Ah, ah!”

Wriothesley tries to look up at Neuvillette but is puzzled upon discovering his vision is blurry. That is, until the other wipes away wetness that was flowing from the outer corners of his eyes. 

Oh. 

“You’re breathtaking even when you cry,” Neuvillette brings the thumb that wiped away the tear into his mouth and licks it without shame. “Your moans, your touch, your rare smiles. And now even your tears. It seems that I can’t get enough of everything about you.” 

Neuvillette shoves his length against Wriothesley’s prostate at an impossibly faster pace.

“Please. Please, Neuvillette.” He doesn't even know what he’s begging for, but he’s filled with desperation. 

“Cum for me, Wrio.”

Strings of a thick, white substance make a mess of the two men’s chests and abdomen. Wriothesley’s back arches as his vision whitens and he experiences the most intense orgasm he’s ever had so far. 

As Neuvillette continued to thrust into him amidst his release, Wriothesley is awestruck by the former’s long white hair surrounding him, falling all around him like shooting stars. 

He raises a trembling hand to cradle Neuvillette’s face, much like how he did the previous times. “You’re beautiful, Neuvi.” 

Longing pervades and consumes those purple eyes. Wriothesley can’t believe that’s all for him. “Beautiful cannot even begin to describe how I see you, Wrio.” 

Once Wriothesley starts coming down from his high, Neuvillette shifts to take his length out, but pauses when the legs around his waist tighten. He glances at the other male in silent inquiry. 

“You haven’t finished yet, I can feel that you’re still hard.” 

Neuvillette grins fondly. “It’s alright. You simply laying bare like this beneath me already fulfills every single one of my fantasies.”

It briefly crosses Wriothesley’s mind to probe and ask specifically how long Neuvillette had been wishing to do this with him; if he thought about it for as long as Wriothesley did. But he waves the thought away and focuses on the matter at hand. “Stop saying embarrassing things like that! No, I’d hate it if I’m the only one who came. Seriously Neuvi, keep going.”

“I’m sure you’ve been aware since that night with the aphrodisiac that I… take a little longer to release. I don’t want to exhaust you.”

“I was literally a boxer for years, Neuvi. I couldn’t care any less about pushing my stamina,” Wriothesley raises his head to give the other a long kiss. “The only thing I want is for both of us to feel good, so don’t stop until you finish too. Keep going for as long as you want to.”

“That’s a bold request, Wrio.”

“I’ll take responsibility so you don’t have to worry about it,” Wriothesley simpers. “You said you wanted to make me yours, then show me.”  

“Do not underestimate the consequences of provoking me.”

“Make me yours, Neuvi.”

Neuvillette’s eyes darken, his pupils blown wide with unadulterated desire. He seizes both of Wriothesley’s legs with strength that’s sure to discolor the skin there with palm-shaped bruises, and hangs them over his shoulders. 

He drags his cock out, leaving only the tip inside. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you.” Neuvillette breathes, then pistons his hips forward until his entire length has been engulfed by Wriothesley’s wet hole. For this round, he doesn’t build a pace and instead heads straight into a cruelly rapid tempo. 

“So tight even after I’ve fucked you once,” he groans. “You were made for me.”

“Neuvillette! Ah, so full.” In this new position, the cock drilling into Wriothesley feels as though it has reached depths even deeper than before. 

And in this new position, the night has become absolutely more obscene; Wriothesley is able to better see the wet, girthy organ persistently pulling out then disappearing back into him. He also becomes more conscious of the sounds echoing throughout the room—Neuvillette’s grunts and praises, Wriothesley’s own mewls, the squelching sounds from their fucking, the creaking of the bed frame, the slams of the headboard against the wall because of how hard he’s being pounded into. 

Everything’s all so humiliatingly lewd. And yet—

“It feels so good, Neuvi! You’re fucking me so good.” New tears caused by immense pleasure hang on to Wriothesley’s eyelashes. He’s so happy that it’s Neuvillette who’s doing this with him. He knows it’s only Neuvillette who would shower him with care even amidst such an act of debauchery. Had it been any other person, they would’ve left the moment they got what they wanted from Wriothesley. 

“I’m so glad it’s you, Neuvi. I’m glad you’re the first.”

The first to fuck him. The first to take care of him. The first to show him a glimpse of what perhaps is the type of love he deserves. 

“I hope to be the only one, too,” Neuvillette descends to connect their lips once more. The man tastes of expensive wine and dreams Wriothesley used to find unattainable. 

Out of all the people in the world, Neuvillette chose him. How could he be so lucky? 

A familiar heat builds up within the pits of Wriothesley’s stomach. He heaves. “Neuvi, I’m close.” 

“Me too.” 

The tempo of Neuvillette’s thrusts become irregular as the man starts focusing more on chasing his own release, though he also maneuvers his hips to ensure that he’s stimulating Wriothesley’s prostate. 

“Inside, Neuvi. Please,” Wriothesley manages. 

Neuvillette is all too glad to fulfill that request. 

“Now, Wrio. Cum with me.” 

Wriothesley’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his ass is pulled flush to Neuvillette’s groin, his insides convulsing around the latter’s cock to milk out every last drop. Meanwhile, his own arousal sputters semen for the third time and stains both their upper bodies. 

Neuvillette doesn’t cease his thrusting, though it’s less forceful, with the goal of fucking his release further into Wriothesley. 

“You’re perfect, Wrio.” As they relished in their afterglow, Neuvillette angles Wriothesley’s mouth towards his own for another kiss. 

(He’s Wriothesley’s first and swears an oath to himself to make sure that he’s also Wriothesley’s only.)

After a little begging from the lawyer and an earnest promise to clean him up before they fall asleep, Wriothesley grants Neuvillette permission to stay inside him for a few more minutes, essentially cockwarming him. 

He’s currently in Neuvillette’s arms, his back against the other’s chest. 

They finally have their much needed conversation. 

“Since when did you like me?” Wriothesley mumbles. It’s ridiculous that he’s feeling shy now after what had just transpired. But to him, emotions will always feel more raw and vulnerable to talk about than the closest physical contact. 

Neuvillette places a kiss on the scar on the back of Wriothesley’s neck. He’s been eyeing it for the past few minutes. “I admit that I’m uncertain of when it started exactly. The truth is that I visited the underground boxing ring you fought in multiple times before you actually met me. I had to gather hard evidence before I could conduct the proper legal procedures.”

“I’m assuming you must’ve seen my fights?” 

“Yes, the first time I saw you fight, I was intrigued. Every fighter in that arena was always desperate to live, yet you were practically emotionless during the first fight I witnessed from you, as well as every other match you had,” Neuvillette sighs as he recalls the past. “It’s as if you weren’t fighting for your life, not even for passion. Your eyes were empty and it bothered me that I couldn’t figure out why.” 

Wriothesley refrains from commenting. He believed he hid all his struggles well by training himself to be indifferent. Perhaps it’s that exact apathy that highlighted his misery after all. 

“Before I realized it, I was breaking my own principles. Despite having more than enough proof to have the ring shut down, the thought of not seeing you again prevented me from taking immediate action. However, I had to remind myself of my priorities and finally gained the resolve to submit the evidence I gathered.”

“How honorable.”

“Hm, I also couldn’t restrain myself from seeing you one last time though. For the first and last time, I sat in the front row.”

Oh, now Wriothesley remembers that too. The only thing he could think about then was how wealthy the long-haired man must be. 

“Maybe it was just by chance to you, but that brief moment when you looked back at me meant everything. All the spotlights were on you and I just thought if you already rendered me breathless with a mere look, then I’d surely regret letting you go.”

A semblance of guilt causes Wriothesley’s chest to ache. He didn’t know that what he considered a random glance would turn out so significant for the man he yearns for now. 

It’s okay. He’ll make up for it. 

Neuvillette continues his anecdote. “I didn’t know how else to make you follow me aside from making you my employee, so I hired you as a bodyguard even though I didn’t actually need one.” 

Wriothesley rolls his eyes. Yeah, he figured that part out along the way. “Intrigue is different from liking someone though.”

“I was just getting to that part,” Neuvillette chuckles. “I think I began holding romantic feelings for you when I met your daughter, Sigewinne. It’s when I discovered that you did have passion, it just wasn’t for fighting. There would be a light in your eyes whenever you saw her or whenever we talked about her. Before I even realized it, I was already wondering how that light would change—or if it would be there at all—if it were me you were gazing back at.” 

“…You’re so cheesy,” Wriothesley grumbles, though he’s sure that his reddening ears give away his true feelings. Now that he’s listening with a more open heart, he feels idiotic for never noticing how Neuvillette’s tone alone radiates tenderness for him. 

Why were they running in circles for so long?

Then it hits him exactly why. 

He backtracks. “Hold on, if you already had a crush on me—“

“I think crush is a silly way to describe how I felt.”

“..If you already had a crush on me since Sigewinne’s first visit, then why did you call me a dog during that time you were on a phone call with your relative? That’s hardly a term you would use to refer to someone you claim to like.” 

The bashfulness is apparent in Neuvillette’s voice when he replies. “Frankly speaking, that incident was one of the rare occasions I couldn’t reign in my emotions. You asked me if it bothered me that you were only with me for money. While that was indeed true, it still reminded me that you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. Hence I got deeply upset and ended up saying words I didn’t mean as a consequence. I apologize.”

The silence that follows is deafening. 

Wriothesley blinks. So the incident that basically changed how he viewed himself for the weeks that followed was caused by Neuvillette being petty? 

“Sir, with all due respect, are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m really sorry and I swear to keep making it up to you for as long as you want me to. Just please keep calling me by name when it’s the two of us.”

“It actually really hurt me, you know. You even called me—and I quote—bottom of the barrel when you first met me.”

“I’m sorry, I truly am. I can say it a hundred more times if you’d like. The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you.” 

Wriothesley releases a defeated sigh when Neuvillette’s arms tighten around him. 

It’s not like he can stay mad for long anyway, especially considering the rest of the events that came after; that deed with the aphrodisiac and him and Sigewinne being showered with gifts. 

“Consider yourself blessed that I like you too, Neuvi,” Wriothesley holds back a chortle when he senses the other male stiffen from behind him, presumably from bashfulness. 

The grin on his face drops however, when it’s not only Neuvillette’s arms that stiffen. 

“Neuvillette, do not tell me you are hard again.”

“Alright, I will not.”

“Neuvi!”

“I’m sorry, Wrio. I still need to get used to you feeling the same way and calling me that.”

“You need to get used to me calling you by your name?”

“Please, Wrio. Can we do it one more time, please?”

“Hey, ah, wait—“ 

(Their night together extends well into the morning, concluding with unsalvageable bedsheets and Wriothesley on his hands and knees.) 

Since their decision to further their relationship, the two also made it clear to remain professional at work. They keep their intentions a secret from the rest of the employees in the law firm and Wriothesley still follows Neuvillette wordlessly to every meeting and wherever else necessary. 

After working hours end however, they have three ways for spending time together; either Neuvillette stays over for dinner in Wriothesley and Sigewinne’s house, Wriothesley visits Neuvillette’s house and they cuddle with the latter’s head on his bodyguard’s chest, or Wriothesley stays the night at Neuvillette’s and gets folded in half as he ruins the prosecutor’s bedsheets. 

(Whenever they do end up choosing the third option, Wriothesley noticed that Neuvillette strongly preferred being the top, muttering something about being the first and only. He keeps forgetting to ask about what the hell that’s about.) 

“Hey, you’re quiet. What are you thinking about?” Wriothesley inquires. It’s currently a Saturday; Neuvillette miraculously didn’t have a case to work on so they took the day as an opportunity to take Sigewinne to a park where she could freely play. 

He’s holding an umbrella over Neuvillette, not because it’s raining but because the poor man is sensitive to the sun. How could such a powerful man be so fragile? 

“Nothing, it’s just,” Neuvillette casts him a content smile and Wriothesley looks back at the man with equal affection. “I’ve noticed the weather has become much better.”