Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One year later…

            Wriothesley straightened the frame upon his desk, adjusting and readjusting the angle until the glare marring the glass dispersed to reveal the picture beneath. In it, Sigewinne beamed wide, caught in the act placing a small sticker onto the giant nose of his wolf form. He’d gone cross-eyed trying to catch a glimpse of what, exactly, she was doing, and Neuvillette had somehow managed to snap a photo at the exact right moment.

            A hubbub near the entrance to his office drew his attention, a rise and rush above the usual low murmur of voices that had his keen ears swiveling towards the half-muffled sound. Though his left ear had improved at an agonizingly slow and steady pace over the last year, he had never quite regained his full hearing capacity. He compensated with a tilt of his head, angling his right ear until the low murmur resolved into audible words.

            “…ry, his Grace is currently completing important paperwork and has asked not to be disturbed.”

            “Is that so.”

            “Y-yes…?” There was a yelp and a crashing whoosh, the telltale sound of an avalanche of papers hitting the floor. “Oh, ah, beans – I mean – yes, sir, it is!”

            “Did his Grace neglect to inform you that I have an appointment?”

            “Y-you do?”

            A grin cracked Wriothesley’s face as he placed Faissolle’s soft-spoken speech and Neuvillette’s much drier tone, laced with a nearly imperceptible undercurrent of amusement; the Oratrice family head was teasing the other man.

            Poor Faissolle.

            The wolf-shifter let his loyal subordinate suffer for a few more seconds, filling out the remainder of a check that he signed with a perfunctory scribble before shoving away from his desk. His tail swished freely behind him, bobbing in delight with each step as he neared the imposing metal door that marked the threshold of his office.

            He twisted the handle fast and without warning, taking just a small crumb of delight in the way Faissolle jumped at the noise. The man whirled around to stare at Wriothesley with wide eyes and a confused scowl, clutching a haphazard pile of documents close to his chest.

            “Is there a problem, Faissolle?” Wriothesley asked with the hint of a smirk, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed tight over his chest. He caught Neuvillette’s eye over the Meropide coordinator’s shoulder, his ears perking up in delight at the expression of sly amusement his mate-to-be wore. That lilac gaze quickly drifted away, however, raking slowly over him in a slow perusal that was impossible to miss.

            Wriothesley preened subtly as he was admired, conspicuously adjusting the red tie that matched the charcoal-and-crimson suit the Oratrice family head had bought for him. The wolf-shifter had specifically refrained from wearing the expertly tailored garment for weeks, knowing full well that Neuvillette was metaphorically salivating to see him in it, yet too polite to request he wear it outright. Wriothesley had managed thus far by simply playing dumb, dodging gentle inquiries after the gift and even, at one point, pretending he’d never received the delivery at all. That had lasted only until the dark glower in his lover’s expression had made him worry Neuvillette might render judgement upon the poor Oratrice member who had been tasked with delivering the parcel. It was all fun and games to tease and torment the dragon-shifter, but only so long as no innocent bystanders got needlessly caught in the crossfire.

            All of the obfuscation was worth it to see Neuvillette’s eyes light up, satisfaction practically radiating off the dragon-shifter as he eyed his lover in the clothing he’d purchased for him. His sea-salt-caramel scent twined around Wriothesley, engulfing him in the sweet aroma.

            Between them, Faissolle’s head swiveled one way, then the other, and then to the clipboard shoved amongst his haphazard papers, as though not certain where to look as he stammered half-formed attempts at an explanation. “Y-your Grace! I was unaware you had a meeting with Monsieur Neuvillette this afternoon. I was checking your calendar, but –” The man, completely unaware of the flirting happening right over his head, flipped feverishly through the pages atop the clipboard in clear hopes of deliverance.

            Wriothesley decided to cut him some slack before he developed an ulcer.

            “That’s because I don’t. Monsieur Neuvillette was scheduled to meet with me this evening so that we might have dinner together, but he is definitely early. Care to explain yourself?” The Meropide leader’s gaze flicked across the space to meet his counterpart’s with an amicable smile. The hinting lilt of a tease in his tone was met with a faint twitch of a laugh at the corner of Neuvillette’s mouth.

            Faissolle looked up again at that, glancing hurriedly from one leader to the other before blanching and shuffling back a step so he wasn’t immediately between them.

            Smart man.

            Their courting was, at this point, what one might call an open secret. Wriothesley hadn’t yet acknowledged the relationship aloud to any of his subordinates, solely for appearance’s sake; some token amount of discretion had seemed especially important as they reforged their group from the ground up. Even without the words, though, his innermost circle was well aware.

            As it turned out, knowing your boss was banging the head of an extremely notorious and well-established gang didn’t make that man any less terrifying in person. Wriothesley could sympathize; Neuvillette cut an intimidating figure. Most of Meropide trembled when aware of his presence amidst their ranks. Wriothesley was the sole exception – unless, of course, trembling in delicious anticipation counted.

            “I found myself with an unexpected opening in my schedule,” Neuvillette elaborated. “As I was already in the vicinity, I thought I might call on Meropide. I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing your new office, yet.” He waved one hand nonchalantly; the other remained curled comfortably around the handle of his cane.

            They managed to maintain their mostly professional expressions for all of thirty seconds before Wriothesley cracked. His tail wagged happily behind him, a genuine grin splitting his face. “Faissolle?”

            “Y-yes, your Grace?” the man spluttered, caught mid-step as he edged away from the pair of them. Wriothesley settled a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

            “We’ll be in my office for a bit, so just ring if you need anything. I’ll see about getting the rest of the paperwork to you or Avice by the end of the day – I won’t go on leave without handing it off. And you –” He turned to Neuvillette and prodded him gently in the chest with a sparkly purple fingernail, “stop tormenting my team.”

            Neuvillette raised a single eyebrow in reply, his lips pressed tightly together in thinly veiled amusement and his eyes glittering with fondness. Dismissed, Faissolle nodded and scurried off towards the general staff lounge, shoulders sagging in his relief at no longer being caught between a wolf and a dragon. The poor man worked so hard; Wriothesley would have to make this up to him later. Perhaps he could arrange a joint night off for both Faissolle and Avice, one that came with a pre-paid reservation at one of the new restaurants they’d secured a partnership with in the past month. With all the hubbub and hurry around rebuilding, they’d been just as busy as he’d been, and would, he was sure, appreciate the quality time to themselves.

            Pleased with his own cunning scheme, Wriothesley held the door wide for his guest, closing it behind them with a soft thump. Neuvillette’s sharp gaze immediately surveyed the brand-new office. Wide, tinted interior windows overlooked rows of empty auditorium seats that tapered down to the raised stage below, outlined with safety ropes. The new and improved Pankration Ring sat empty at the moment; a few Meropide members dotted the periphery, being guided in a variety of warm-up stretches by Roussimoff.

            Wriothesley meandered over to the small kitchenette in the corner, putting on the kettle as he prepared a teacup for himself and a glass of crisp Fontainian mountain spring water for his dragon.

            “What do you think?” the wolf-shifter asked casually as he wandered back towards the desk, propping himself against it. He couldn’t keep the nervous flick from his ears, nor could he suppress the hint of sour anxiety from invading his scent as he waited for a verdict.

            Neuvillette hummed, tilting his head thoughtfully as he pivoted on his heel, taking in the space in its entirety, eyes trailing over the dark leather couches and circular industrial metal lamps hanging up above. “It reminds me of you.” He peered through the dark glass at the Ring below, a small but genuine smile lifting his expression. “I quite like that.”

            “Does it, now? Care to share what about it, exactly, makes you think of me?” Wriothesley glanced over the exposed dark brick walls, accented by glinting metal pipes and exposed iron beams.

            His eyes trailed last over the large Cerberus insignia emblazoned on the wall. That particular bit of décor made him cringe, too flashy of a callback to a period of his life rife with complicated, mixed emotions. He hadn’t wanted reminders of the Berets, or any other remnants of the past, hanging about like specters over Meropide, but when they were designing the new building, Avice had insisted on including some homage to his time in the Pankration Ring.

            It was important, she had insisted, rather mulishly, to remind everyone of the sacrifices he had made to get them all where they were today. Still, the last thing Wriothesley wanted was to be applauded as some kind of hero. He was the furthest thing from one, and that wasn’t how he wanted to be remembered.

            He’d eventually relented and agreed to the art piece, styled off the constellation tattooed on his chest, on the condition that it lived only in his office and nowhere else – especially not in the Pankration Ring itself.

            “It’s a suitable stronghold. A little rough around the edges, perhaps intentionally, and intimidating from the outside, and yet accommodating and considerate in its design.” Seemingly satisfied with his inspection, Neuvillette turned away from the window. His attention fixed instead back to Wriothesley, his cane thudding in a small, muffled stamp against the carpet as he strode towards the desk and his lover, expression sharp and intent. He stopped just short of colliding with the other man, tender adoration dancing within his lilac irises. A gloved hand, the leather cool and soft, cupped the sides of Wriothesley’s face; when a knee knocked lightly against his own, the wolf-shifter parted his thighs, allowing the Oratrice family head to slip comfortably between his legs and resettle those graceful hands on his hips. “It’s beautiful. I am particularly fond of the fishtank; my most esteemed compliments to whomever decided upon that addition.”

            “Why am I not even remotely surprised that is your favorite part?” Wriothesley laughed, glancing over at the decently-sized aquarium to the left of the room. “Evaine did a beautiful job, and Wolsey has been taking great care of them if I’m not around to feed them.”

            Neuvillette huffed in quiet, contained amusement, clearly only half-listening as his lips found the side of the wolf-shifter’s neck, caressing down along the scars marring the skin there. Wriothesley chuckled, his tail thumping against the desk as Neuvillette tugged him closer, thoroughly occupied nipping and licking at his throat.

            “Monsieur –” Wriothesley tried, his voice catching with a moan as teeth pressed firmly against sensitive skin and threatened to puncture into his flesh. The sensation sent shivers down his spine, heat flooding directly to his groin. “Hey, now, sweetheart. Aren’t you – mm, getting a little ahead of yourself? You did promise me dinner before the main show,” Wriothesley teased weakly, far too breathless and turned on to do more than fist his hands in the front of the Oratrice family head’s vest as he tilted his head back invitingly despite his token protest.

            Just like Neuvillette, Wriothesley craved. The culmination of their year together lay tantalizingly within reach, just on the horizon, and the heady promise of what the evening would hold sat thick in the air, coating the inside of their lungs like intoxicating smoke.

            Wriothesley wanted Neuvillette’s mating bite, wanted their bond branded into his skin for all to see.

            He would wear it proudly.

            Hot breath ghosted over the side of his neck as Neuvillette pulled himself away, the whispered exhale of a laugh caressing Wriothesley’s skin. “I suppose that is so. Forgive me, beloved.” The dragon-shifter pressed one more firm, lingering kiss to that barren patch of skin.

            After tonight, the unmarred spot would no longer sit forlornly empty.

            After tonight, Wriothesley would be marked – for the rest of his days.

            “No forgiveness needed.” Though it pained Wriothesley, he found the wherewithal to release his lover’s hips from between his thighs with a last, lingering kiss, allowing Neuvillette to take a step back and retrieve the cane he’d leaned next to the wolf-shifter, within easy reach. “As much as I’d love for us to break in my new office, I do have things I need to finish up before I head out. If you want my undivided attention for the next four days, shit’s gotta get done.”

            “Understandable.” Neuvillette settled himself at Wriothesley’s side, perched against the desk just as his lover was. “You have been so inundated with work, as of late; I simply wished to ascertain for myself your wellbeing – and remind you of life beyond Meropide’s walls.” The dragon-shifter may have put a modicum of much-needed space between them, but his hands remained on Wriothesley, maintaining their connection as he traced absent patterns over skin and up towards fluffy ears. “Have you found yourself properly settled into your new residence?”

            “No, not yet.” The corners of the wolf-shifter’s mouth drooped, his shoulders sagging in some small show of exhaustion. “I’ve been a little busy finalizing setup for all of this,” he gestured around them vaguely before his hand dropped back into his lap. “I’m currently sleeping at the new place, but I’d say over half my stuff is still at the old one.” Wriothesley shrugged, his ears twitching atop his head. His nimble fingers caught at the end of Neuvillette’s long braid, twisting and twining the strands between them. “I’ll get around to it. I spend most of my time here, or at your place, anyway.”

            “Would you like help? I can organize some assistance in moving your things over, if you would like – I have a few people I might call on to help,” Neuvillette added dryly. Wriothesley huffed, tail smacking the desk, aiming a fondly exasperated gaze at the Oratrice family head.

            The generosity of this man was honestly too much for him to handle, and he waved away the offer with a nonchalant grin. “Nah, I can do it myself. I’ll get it done eventually – don’t worry about it too much.”

            Neuvillette sighed, though he gave Wriothesley a resigned smile, as though he had anticipated the answer. “I know you are fully capable, beloved. I merely want to see you comfortably established.”

            “The house isn’t even fully functional yet. The basement needs to be fixed, I’m pretty sure I need to rip up all the carpet on the second story and refinish the floors, and there’s this weird hallway closet that I want to knock down –” Wriothesley stopped himself, taking a deep breath “– The point is, this whole ‘buying a house and moving in’ thing is definitely a long-term project. Don’t fuss over it. I’m taking my time enjoying the process. I’ve never…” He cleared his throat, his voice lowering to a quieter, tender murmur, “I’ve never owned the space I’ve lived in before. Deciding what the hell I want it to look like and getting it there is half the fun.”

            Owning a house, putting down roots, nurturing a relationship – those sorts of things meant permanence.

            They meant that, despite his past, despite the odds, Wriothesley was here to stay.

            Neuvillette’s brows creased, his lips pressing to a thin line as he stared up at the ceiling, visibly turning Wriothesley’s words over in his head. “If I may be frank –”

            “You may,” Wriothesley grinned, earning himself a light, reprimanding tug to the end of his fluffy tail for his cheek.

            “That sounds like a headache, and more work than one man should be burdened with – especially one who shoulders myriad other responsibilities, for himself and for an entire group. I know of several skilled contractors who could renovate the space into whatever you feel is suitable –” Wriothesley pressed a finger to Neuvillette lips, smiling as he silenced his mate-to-be.

            “I know. I appreciate the offer, love, but I’d prefer to do this on my own, at least for now. I’m sure I’ll reach a point when I’ll be out of my depth, and when that happens, I’ll find the right folks for whatever that job is. But for right now, I promise I’m having fun – even though I know this is something that would stress you out.” There was a plethora of things they agreed on, wholeheartedly and without reservations, but Wriothesley’s desire to create his own space rather than have something made up for him was one Neuvillette still didn’t entirely grasp. “I think when you see the finished result, it will make more sense to you.”

            The dragon-shifter kissed the finger against his lips, reaching up to capture Wriothesley’s hand with his own. He folded their fingers together so he might nuzzle at the inside of his lover’s wrist, where his scent was strongest.

            “Very well. I will stop trying to make your life easier, in this regard and this regard only.” Neuvillette expression was torn somewhere between fond and exasperated, and Wriothesley could only grin back at his lover’s playful resignation. “That being said, will you allow me to help you transport whatever it is you might need when I pick you up tonight?” Pale lilac eyes flashed upwards, beseeching to a degree that was unfair. “Unless, of course, you’ve already packed?” One white eyebrow inclined upwards, rightfully skeptical.

            “I haven’t packed a single thing yet,” Wriothesley chuckled. “Yeah, I’d appreciate your help. I’ll let you know where to come and get me.” His pulse fluttered and rabbited as lips caressed his wrist, the intimate action doing nothing to quell the desire thrumming along his veins.

            “Excellent. I shall eagerly await your message.” Neuvillette straightened, keeping Wriothesley’s hand loosely trapped in his own as they locked gazes. “You’ve been working hard, Wriothesley, and you’ve done very well. I think you’ve more than earned a reward.”

            Archons, this man knew just what to say to send his rationality fleeing the scene. Wriothesley was painfully aware of the way his own scent sweetened at the praise. “Have I?” he whispered, all thoughts of his lengthy to-do list banished from his mind. His fingers hooked through the loops on the dragon-shifter’s belt, using them as leverage to tilt towards his mate-to-be.

            It was easy, so easy, to forget everything he needed to get done, when the object of all his dreams and desires was manifested before him, entrapped between his legs, as regal and polished as ever. How badly he wanted to disrupt that pristine countenance, rumple clothing beyond easy repair and run fingers through immaculate hair until it spilled out of the braid that presently held it securely in place.

            “You have,” Neuvillette confirmed in a low, purring rumble, pressing him back against the desk, brushing their noses together softly. “And you’ve finally seen fit to wear the suit I got you.”

            “All of my suits are ones you’ve gotten me,” Wriothesley pointed out with a snicker, preening ever so slightly at his magnificent success in riling up the dragon-shifter.

            Neuvillette gave him a sharp look with those slit-pupil lilac eyes, one that said he knew exactly what game the wolf-shifter was playing, but he would allow it, for now. “That may be the case, but you have not seen fit to wear this one yet, at least in my presence. It looks superb on you.” The deepening growl of appreciation underscoring Neuvillette’s tone was all it took for Wriothesley to instinctively respond in kind, pleased and eager. His claws sank into Neuvillette’s shoulders, yanking the other shifter close.

            Damn it. He really did have work he needed to finish.

            …Fuck it. The papers would keep.

            Wriothesley’s legs clamped around Neuvillette’s waist, ankles locking behind him to force their hips together as the wolf-shifter drew his mate-to-be in for a kiss. Neuvillette didn’t hesitate in claiming his mouth, pressing forward until Wriothesley found himself tipped back, laid out on his new desk. The dragon-shifter towered over him, licking deep into his mouth with hardly a pause for breath. Wriothesley encouraged him, sliding his tongue up against the split one, exhaling a pleased sigh through his nose as their scents mingled in the humid air between them.

            How much time had passed, since they’d last indulged in one another? Days? Weeks, maybe? Wriothesley had lost track in the rush towards tonight, sunrises and sunsets flying by in a hazy blur, barely noticed but for the rapid approach of their planned period away.

            Too much, he concluded, just before that too-long tongue pressed deeper. Then he wasn’t thinking much of anything at all, his tail beating enthusiastically against the desk and ears tipping back in bliss. He moaned around the intrusion, relaxing his throat and inhaling through his nose until Neuvillette pulled away, licking the roof of Wriothesley’s mouth as he retreated.

            Wriothesley chased his lips, nipping and licking at Neuvillette to try and get his fill from the other man and stealing a handful more kisses as he went. He canted his hips forward, teasingly grinding his length against the tantalizing hardness in Neuvillette’s trousers as he coaxed his lover back closer, a pleased whine building in the back of his throat. Chuckling softly at his eagerness, Neuvillette’s hands wandered down over his chest, grazing over the hardened points of his pierced nipples through the wolf-shifter’s shirt as he continued southward towards Wriothesley’s belt.

            They should stop.

            Wriothesley absolutely did not want to stop, though, and the way Neuvillette was doing that thing with his tongue again, the one that made Wriothesley’s knees tremble and the breath fly from his lungs, suggested the dragon-shifter wasn’t terribly keen on any diversions from their current trajectory, either.

            Perhaps, then, it was for the best that a firm knock sounded against the office door.

            The abrupt and sudden sound had Wriothesley snapping back to clarity with all the gentleness of a bucket of cold water, especially as Neuvillette jerked away, eyeing the door with a ferocious glare and the beginnings of a growl. The wolf-shifter stared up at the ceiling in resigned chagrin, catching his breath. Each new, panted inhale brought with it the scent of their mixed arousal and heady desire, providing no help in tamping down the buzzing, electric want that sizzled along his nerves.

            Right. They were in his very public Pankration Ring-side office, he reminded himself, again. And he’d only asked Faissolle to give them a handful of uninterrupted minutes.

            Wriothesley reached to soothe a hand over Neuvillette’s cheek as he sat up, resettling himself into a slightly more comfortable position. His movement inadvertently brought their groins flush once more, drawing a breathy moan from him at the much-needed friction against his aching cock.

            Nope, not the time. Focus.

            They could fuck the living daylights out of each other later.

            “I probably need to answer that.” Wriothesley unlocked his ankles, freeing Neuvillette from his clutches as he attempted to stand and straighten his clothing out into something approaching respectable and not nearly-fucked. Neuvillette nodded, making a valiant effort to assist in unruffling his lover. Though the dragon-shifter’s scent had soured ever so slightly in clear frustration at the interruption, his expression had smoothed to one much more placid and professional than the look of blatant hunger he’d aimed at Wriothesley less than a second ago.

            “That is understandable.” The Oratrice family head hummed in thoughtful contemplation, running his fingers through Wriothesley’s hair in a futile attempt to partially tame the rumpled salt-and-pepper strands. “It would appear that I am more eager for this evening than I previously thought. My apologies. I shall remove myself for the time being so as to limit any further… distractions.” The dragon-shifter absently straightened his tie as he spoke, and Wriothesley stared unabashedly, tormented by images of tearing the thin strip of fabric off with his teeth to get to the skin underneath.

            “Yeah. Yeah, limiting distractions is probably the best idea right now.” Archons, one would think that Wriothesley was in rut, the way his blood pounded in his veins, full of want, craving Neuvillette like he was the air that filled the wolf-shifter’s lungs.

            Tonight could not come soon enough.

            They took another minute to make sure they were both more-or-less presentable, other than their unavoidably kiss-swollen lips, before Wriothesley walked Neuvillette to his office door.

            “I’ll pick you up later, beloved,” Neuvillette leaned in for one last kiss, the lingering sweetness of it leaving Wriothesley full of helium and butterflies. Despite their paltry surface efforts at any sort of discretion, his tail would not stop wagging, a dead giveaway should anyone have been there to witness it.

            “Yup, see you then. Love you,” he murmured back, adoring the way those two little words made Neuvillette’s scent spike with delight, everything about him seemingly brightening for just a moment before Wriothesley opened the door.

            On the other side stood Jurieu, who glanced very pointedly between the two of them with an air of wry amusement. In the distance, Wriothesley could see Faissolle and Wolsey lounging by the front desk, trying not to make it obvious they were looking in the direction of the office and failing miserably.

            Archons, when did all of Meropide get to be so nosy? He thought with more than a little amusement.

            “Sorry to, uh…” Jurieu paused, eyeing the pair of them again. “…interrupt, your Grace, Monsieur Neuvillette. I have a few more reports, and one of these you really ought to take a look at before you leave – it’ll need your go-ahead before we can move on it, and it’s a bit time sensitive.”

            “No apologies necessary.” Neuvillette dismissed Jurieu’s lukewarm contrition with a wave of his hand. “I’m afraid I have other business I must attend to.” The Oratrice’s leader inclined his head towards both of them, his watertight mask of professionalism fully back in place. It was more than a little marvelous just how unflappable he appeared, an entirely different man than the one who had been pinning Wriothesley against his desk minutes ago. “As always, it was a pleasure, your Grace. I look forward to collaborating with you again in the future.”

            Wriothesley nearly choked trying to stifle his laughter, barely managing to wheeze out, “Likewise, Monsieur. Have a good evening,” before Neuvillette sauntered away towards the entrance. Wriothesley’s crystalline eyes followed him, admiring the lingering scent of his mate-to-be and the figure he cut strolling through the new and improved lobby of the Pankration Ring.

            He hated to see him leave, but oh, how he loved to watch him go.

            It wasn’t until Neuvillette was obscured by a passing group of hopeful future combatants that Wriothesley managed to blink. It took even pitiably longer to acknowledge that Jurieu was still standing beside him, clutching a clipboard and glancing back to Faissolle and Wolsey in evident exasperation.

            Straightening his tie and rolling his shoulders, Wriothesley cleared his throat and finally faced the other Meropide coordinator. “Right. What did you need?”

            “I hope you don’t think that you two are being subtle,” the scientist muttered with a shake of his head.

            Wriothesley’s ears flattened slightly, feeling heat rising in his cheeks, but he dutifully ignored his own embarrassment like a good boss should. “You know, Jurieu, I can’t say that I’m interested in gossiping about anyone’s interpersonal relationships, or lack thereof, especially with one-half of a certain scientist duo infamous for bickering rather than owning their unresolved sexual tension, so I’m going to be particularly generous, and pretend I didn’t just hear that. Now, tell me what it is you need me to check over.” He smiled like a shark might smile at its next meal, daring it to flee or fight back.

            Jurieu gave him a particularly unimpressed look over the top of his glasses. “Message heard and understood, your Grace – to business, then. We’re pretty sure we have the intercom system all set up between the Ring and the rooms below, but we had a few questions. If you wouldn’t mind coming with me, I can show you.” Jurieu turned and headed across the lobby as soon as Wriothesley gestured for him to go, closing and locking his office door tightly behind him. “We also need you to test run the updates to the shifter training room, if you wouldn’t mind.”

            As they passed by the front desk, Wriothesley flicked frost from his fingertips at Faissolle and Wolsey, where they hunched together over some scattered papers and very pointedly avoided his playfully stern glare.

            “Not a word out of you two, either,” he warned with narrowed eyes and a barely contained quirk of his lips. The thumbs-up he got in confirmation were, he thought, the best he could expect, though Wolsey tacked on a cheeky waggle of his eyebrows that had him snorting in pure exasperation. There would, undoubtedly, be a plethora of jokes made at his expense in the staff lounge this weekend; thankfully, whatever they were, they would be out of his control and his earshot. It would be a brief, but needed, reprieve; the affectionate ribbing would, after all, only get worse when he returned from his little vacation with a prominent bite mark on his neck.

            Wriothesley followed Jurieu into the main amphitheater and down the nearest side staircase to the underground facilities. The space below the arena hadn’t been particularly damaged by the fire, so it had seemed only natural that they keep it. In fact, the layout of the Ring itself hadn’t changed much. However, the purpose of each room couldn’t have been more different.

            Where Dougier’s office used to be, there was now a fully stocked medical station, complete with places for fighters to get checked out both pre- and post-fight. Wriothesley had worked with Neuvillette to source some of the best physicians he could finance to take care of any Ring participants. Just off that room was the lockers, complete with shower facilities, changing rooms, and bathrooms, all with floor-to-ceiling, fully-enclosed single stalls. The design served dual function, creating a fully gender-neutral space and only requiring one of each facility. The extra rooms were portioned off as offices for doing paperwork and filing documentation, as well as several equipment rooms.

            The intercom in question was installed into the wall in each room. There was a line that went to his office directly, one that went to medical in case of emergency, and the normal line meant for communication during fights. It also served as an alarm system in case of fire, attack, or the very unlikely but not entirely impossible feral hybrid on the loose and in need of sedation. Wriothesley seriously doubted they would ever need that particular alert, but this was still the underground and dubiously legal fighting ring of a street gang, even if he’d polished up the edges. Though the rules explicitly disallowed drugs of any sort within the Ring, that didn’t mean Delusion was fully gone from the streets. At least now, they had contingency plans. It gave Wriothesley some small comfort to know there were protocols in place for the worst-case scenario, even if they never needed them.

            The wolf-shifter examined the parts of the system that were already up and running with Jurieu, only half-listening to his detailed explanation of how the wiring had been set up. Mostly, his input was only needed to decide if there were any additional rooms they wanted the intercoms installed in. After a brief back-and-forth, they determined that only one additional set would be needed – in the office that had become Avice’s base of operations for all personnel and off-site business relationship management.

            She had fallen into her new role better than even Wriothesley had anticipated. After some much-needed time off for her and Faissolle’s wedding and honeymoon, she’d returned with a vengeance and a fully itemized plan for smoothly managing new member onboarding and reorganizing the existing Meropide personnel into some semblance of a structured organization. It included establishing their core members as so-called coordinators, making each a sort of department head responsible for overseeing aspects of the group’s life and well-being. The proposal treated the entire group, and those in it, like the parts of a machine – with the caveat that every such part needed the right attention, careful maintenance, and frequent tune-ups in order to work its best.

            It was an analogy Wriothesley could easily get behind.

            The transition had been messy, and not without its hiccups, but his pack of former-Berets-turned-Meropidians had tackled each obstacle with nothing short of ferocious determination. Several months in, they were finally seeing the payoff, both inside the Pankration Ring and within the South of Fontaine as a whole. There were now avenues through which businesses could file complaints, incident reports, and requests that went through preliminary checks before they landed on Wriothesley’s desk for final approval, rejection, or minor tweaking and negotiation. The remaining Fatui snakes hiding amongst their ranks had been rooted out, the rot excised and tossed away, and active efforts to recruit new members were being made. Avice’s current project included bargaining to purchase an abandoned apartment building near the warehouses under Meropide’s name to turn into decent affordable housing for recently-joined associates.

            Wriothesley could not have been more proud of her.

            His own personal pride and joy, however, second only to the gang of Meropide itself, was the facility he’d had built right beside the Ring, connected by a short hallway off the amphitheater space. It was a training room, one created with hybrids and shifters in mind. If they were going to be running semi-sanctioned shifter fights, he wanted there to be space to practice safely before they were in the Ring. After all, the goal wasn’t just entertainment for the spectators, or drawing in crowds big enough to keep Meropide up and running; roughhousing gave shifters the chance to let off some steam, and make some money while they were at it. Sure, it was still dangerous, but Wriothesley could ensure it wasn’t needlessly so – and that all participants were kept comfortable and safe when they weren’t brawling in the Pankration Ring.

            Meropide, he had decided, would offer sanctuary for shifters and humans alike – all those who found themselves on the wrong side of the city and in need of a place to call home.

            He followed Jurieu through the Ring auditorium, waving to Roussimoff from a distance, where he was teaching a teenaged girl with grey cat ears atop her head proper blocking techniques.

            “Yo, Boss! Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for a hot date tonight?” the big man called from down below, smiling wide enough that it was easy to see even at a measurable distance. Wriothesley sighed, his friendly wave turning quickly to a stagnant middle finger, sparkly purple nail providing emphasis as he aimed it directly at the huge man. “Aw, don’t be like that! I’m happy for you!” Roussimoff’s booming laughter echoed throughout the arena, while Wriothesley did his best to ignore the heat in his face. He dropped his hand only as Jurieu guided him off into the short hallway leading to the training facility.

            The double doors opened into a large room outfitted with platforms of various heights, thick ropes that hung from the ceiling, and padding on the walls. There were a variety of ways it could be arranged, and he’d tasked Lourvine and Jurieu with furnishing the space with equipment they thought would be useful. The two had immediately taken to the task; Wriothesley had been used as a readily available guinea pig on more than one occasion to test out their newest challenges. Despite his obvious reservations at being anyone’s test subject, the various trials had been an excellent opportunity to increase his comfort with his shifted form in a controlled environment.

            Without a pause in his momentum, Jurieu waltzed across the room and up to Lourvine, standing next to one of the many platforms. She angled her back towards him to hide the control panel she was working off of, trying to prevent him from peeking over her shoulder, even as he began flipping a few switches in a different spot. Wriothesley took a deep breath as he approached, readying himself to be within their bickering proximity for the foreseeable future.

            “I want to test protocol three first. Stop poking your greasy fingers everywhere; you’re going to set the wind tunnel effect off again,” Lourvine snapped at her partner-in-experiment.

            “Wind tunnel effect?” Wriothesley asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he stopped next to the pair. Two sets of eyes raised simultaneously from the controls, sending Wriothesley’s stomach plummeting to the floor as he recognized the matching look on their faces.

            “Yes, your Grace. We have a few new features we would love to run by you,” Lourvine answered innocently, the manic gleam in her eyes belying her virtuous tone.

            “You mean test. You would like to test them on me. Let’s not mince words now,” The wolf-shifter chuckled, already starting to pop the buttons of his waistcoat and wrangling his tie off from around his neck.

            “I take it that means you’re willing to participate, your Grace?” Jurieu had procured a clipboard from Archons-only-knew where, and quickly began to jot down some preliminary notes in a familiar start to their established routine. Given their collective limited time for frivolous side projects, efficiency was key, and wasting time a luxury.

            “You would be correct. So tell me, what is the goal of this? Am I taking out more of your practice dummies? Testing the platforms, or another resistance training contraption?” He rolled up his sleeves past his elbows, watching both faces carefully to see if their expressions would give anything away. “Oh, do you want the full wolf, or the hybrid form?” He chuckled, shrugging one shoulder and then the other, eager and raring to go. “My only condition is that it’s nothing that’ll tire me out too much, or result in an injury. I have a date later tonight, and if I show up with a weird bruise, I’m not responsible for what happens to either of you.” It was a bold-faced lie; he would never let Neuvillette harm his pack, but they didn’t need to know that.

            “Of course!” Lourvine squawked, pushing her glasses further up her nose with her pointer finger to hide her flustered blush. “Nothing dangerous here.”

            “Wouldn’t dream of it, your Grace,” Jurieu replied simultaneously, raising his volume so that he could be heard over Lourvine.

            Wriothesley’s ears flicked back to dampen the sound of the pair of them talking at once. “Good. Because, you know, if I die, you have to run Meropide,” he informed them, with a calm sincerity that he knew made him sound entirely serious.

            “I-I thought Avice was next in line if something happened to you?” Lourvine stammered as Wriothesley stretched first one arm, then the other, gently warming up. He pretended to consider her point as he did, delighting in the way the thought of additional responsibility made them both squirm.

            “Potentially, if she decides to take it, I guess. However, should she choose to pass on the opportunity, the well-being of Meropide falls to you.” He dropped a hand onto each of their shoulders and gave a full smile that was loaded with playful threat. “So just consider that when setting up these little experiments.” The pleased swish of his tail was a sure giveaway that he was teasing, but, thankfully, they couldn’t see it as he walked around them towards the center of the room. “Now, you still haven’t answered my question. Full wolf?” The two engineers glanced at each other, then nodded in tandem, clearly still too busy working through the dread his words had stirred to form words. “Perfect. Stand back, then, and tell me what the goal is.” Wriothesley waited just long enough for them to get clear of his vicinity before he cracked his neck and closed his eyes.

            Shifting had gotten easier and easier the more he practiced. At first, after that night, he’d had a hell of a time making the switch again. With Neuvillette’s help, he’d practiced in abandoned warehouses relentlessly, until flowing between the two forms became as easy as standing up or sitting down. It was still a conscious action he had to choose, and it took effort, but the rust had finally been shaken off, the hinges greased until the process no longer felt clunky.

            Wriothesley took a deep breath, and with his next inhale he folded forwards, form growing and morphing in size. Around him, a light dusting of frost sprinkled to the ground as the water in the air froze into ice that clung to his fur and claws. He blinked open bright blue eyes, surveying the tiny forms of Jurieu and Lourvine from where they’d run to stand near his foreleg. His tail swayed back and forth steadily; calm as he looked about the room for whatever it was they wanted him to test.

            “All right, what am I doing?” He growled out the words, hunkering down until he was eye level with his associates.

            “I think you’ll like this one –” Lourvine started, as she selected something on the control panel in her hand.

            “We set up a chasing system,” Jurieu interrupted excitedly, running over to one of the folding tables covered with their various pieces of equipment and tools and grabbing a beachball-sized device. “All you have to do is catch the rabbit.” A few presses of buttons was all it took for the thing to whir to life, unfolding into a quadrupedal shape that looked sort-of rabbit like if one squinted and used their imagination to the fullest.

            “Ahem. As I was saying, before Jurieu rudely interrupted me, this is a remote-controlled bot that we have dubbed the ‘RabBot,’ as it sort of resembles a rabbit in how it runs around the room. Its primary purpose is to train agility, but it can hopefully, eventually, be programmed to run certain preset courses that shifters, like yourself, will be able to select and follow like an obstacle course!” She beamed as she started to mess with the control panel in her hand, bringing the RabBot to life.

            Wriothesley crouched down, ears perking as he sniffed at the robotic contraption with his big snout. It was entirely unbothered by his large form, beeping once as it was set to do exactly as Lourvine told it.

            “Impressive. I’m assuming you’d like me to test its capabilities?” He stood to his full height, towering over them and their little project. “It better be fast if it hopes to outpace me,” Wriothesley added with an amused huff as he paced in a quick circle, giving himself a moment to further adjust to being in this form.

            “Oh, it’s fast, and you have to account for the terrain as well, your Grace.” Jurieu moved over to one of the operational stations of the room, and with a few commands inputted, the previously still room came to life. Several blocks lifted from the ground, further adding to the uneven flooring, as panels in the walls extended to block paths or tilt at precarious angles to provide a landing or jumping platform. Wriothesley couldn’t help the roll of his eyes as he saw, amongst the myriad obstacles, several very large hoops also lower from the ceiling at various heights.

            “I’m not a show dog, and the Pankration Ring is not a circus,” he reminded the scientists sternly, with a huff of ice-cold breath that billowed across the floor in a heavy vapor.

            “Of course not, your Grace. If it were a circus, we would have to get you a funny outfit, and finding one large enough for your wolf form would be astronomically expensive,” Lourvine informed him blandly. With a last punch of a button, she sent the RabBot zipping across the floor in tiny, excited circles.

            Wriothesley pounced towards her with a short and playful yip, landing just short of the pair and scraping his ice-cold claws against the reinforced floor for the horrible noise they made. “We can’t possibly afford that. I’d much rather buy you and Jurieu matching clown outfits and make you learn to juggle.”

            To Lourvine’s credit, she only took a single step back; at this point, she and Jurieu had grown at least somewhat used to Wriothesley’s antics. Despite the inherent danger of his much larger form, they knew he would never intentionally hurt them – though Lourvine’s face did screw up rather remarkably at the mentioned of being made to juggle with Jureiu. “That man couldn’t juggle if his life depended upon it. Have you seen him try to multitask?” She shook her head with a huff that Wriothesley personally would have dubbed, for her, overly fond.

            A beep and a chirrup caught the wolf’s attention, then, and Wriothesley found himself quickly distracted by his instincts screaming at him to watch the movement of the small device near her feet. His gaze tracked it carefully as it zipped about, his tail starting to flick back and forth with barely restrained excitement at the prospect of a hunt.

            “So, what do I get if I catch your RabBot?” he asked. It wasn’t the first time they had gambled on the outcome of a trial, though usually, they all waited until Wriothesley had run through the test at least once and made sure nothing exploded before putting money down. Still, with all the teasing he’d had to endure, the Meropide leader was feeling a little contrary, and his mind was already turning over a fun little wager he could put forth.

            “I hadn’t considered any bets,” Lourvine answered with a gentle purse of her lips, absently running through a few more maneuvers with the RabBot. “I suppose we could bet some mora.”

            Wriothesley sat back on his haunches, eyeing the two scientists as his sharp teeth bared in a wolfish grin. “If I catch your RabBot, you have to ask Jurieu out on a date. Take the man somewhere nice.” Wriothesley watched with poorly-restrained glee as Lourvine’s hands fumbled the controller, the RabBot shrieking and spinning in a circle in response. Jurieu noticeably choked on his own spit from behind his terminal, face turning gratifyingly red.

            The wolf-shifter basked in their joint sputtering. Ah, the bliss of revenge.

            Turnabout was, after all, fair play.

            Lourvine recovered first, her gaze narrowing fiercely as she stared up at him over the rim of her glasses. “Fine.” And then her mouth curved into a mischievous smile, in a way Wriothesley distinctly did not like. “In that case, your Grace, if you lose, I think it’s high time you come clean to at least the core members of Meropide about your relationship.”

            Aw, beans.

            Wriothesley tilted his head, considering the pros and cons of that carefully. In a few days’ time, and probably sooner if the little rendezvous earlier was any indication, he would be sporting an incredibly obvious bite mark on his neck. If any of his little family hadn’t realized what was going on, yet, they’d figure it out pretty quickly when he came back from his first-ever proper vacation mated. Letting them in on the secret, officially, would probably be fine. His concern lay, truly, in someone on the outside discovering the relationship and exploiting it to hurt either the Oratrice or Meropide. Internally, though, everyone who he might tell probably already knew, or at least suspected, and would keep a lid on the information if he asked.

            Besides, they’d probably be happy for them. They might even want to celebrate, mortifying as that might be.

            It wasn’t like he was going to lose, anyways.

            “Fine, agreed,” Wriothesley growled, hunkering down in preparation to give chase. “Whenever you’re ready, Lourvine. Jurieu, count us off.”

            “Ready.” The RabBot shot off, taking a bit of a head start. Wriothesley tracked its movements with sharp blue eyes. “Set.” The muscles in his legs tensed, his focus narrowing onto the beeping creature zipping around the arena. “GO!”

            Wriothesley leapt into the air, reveling as the wind rushed past his face.

            The hunt had begun.

            Hoisting one of the many boxes littering his apartment aside and dropping it with a muffled thunk atop the one beside it, Wriothesley scanned the scant notes scribbled on one side. Based on the slapdash words scrawled there, he couldn’t determine what, exactly, he’d packed away inside, or whether the pair of pants he was looking for might be contained within the cardboard depths. After so much ill-fated searching, he was starting to think that maybe that particular pair of pinstripe trousers had never existed in the first place. If so, getting hung up about not being able to pack them for a quick four-day vacation was, perhaps, a little silly.

            Wriothesley straightened, hands upon his hips and a sigh on his lips as he abandoned the box without bothering to crack it open. He was already three boxes deep at this point, and if he kept going, he’d be back at the starting line of his packing misadventure. That was, in a word, unacceptable.

            Maybe he should have taken Neuvillette up on his offer to pay for movers just to get the whole thing done and dusted. The thought of strangers touching his personal effects, though, no matter how few and far between they were, instantly sent an unpleasant shudder down his spine, all the way to the tip of his fluffy tail.

            “Yeah, no, not doing that…” he muttered under his breath, turning back to the open duffle bag on his old bed. It was the only piece of furniture left in the bedroom, mostly because he’d finally caved and bought himself a new one to go with his new house. The old one acted as a perfectly sufficient emergency crash pad for whenever he decided to do some late-night packing and then didn’t have the energy to haul anything a few blocks over until the next morning. Somehow, he’d encountered that exact scenario three different times thus far, and each had only served to emphasize that his new mattress was, indeed, much comfier – and much better for his back.

            It was a work in progress. Everything had been a work in progress for the past year, himself included.

            Wriothesley dragged a hand through his hair, over his ears and back to rest on the side of his neck as he stared up at the ceiling. He was doing that a lot lately, touching his neck, brushing his thumb along skin that was smooth save for the ragged edges of the old scars curling around from the front of his throat. The skin there felt empty, though he knew that to be a product of his own mind more than anything else.

             It had really been a whole year.

            The most agonizing wait of his life had somehow passed in the blink of an eye.

            Wriothesley glanced at his watch, immediately making a face when he found the hour had crept past dusk and edged into the evening proper. Neuvillette would no doubt be arriving to pick him up soon, and he’d barely managed to pack one single bag.

            Did he really need that much clothing, given their plans?

            With a shrug, he threw a couple pairs of underwear, some socks, and a set of pajama pants into the duffel and called it good. He had the necessities, and honestly, he had clothing at Neuvillette’s, probably more than he even realized. Swiftly zipping the bag, he brought it back through the living room, dodging another tower of boxes and tossing it into the entryway.

            Maybe he should grab something else – a sweater, maybe. What if he got cold?

            He’d walked halfway back to his bedroom before he remembered he’d definitely moved his sweaters to the new place, and besides, Neuvillette would absolutely be willing to lend him one – probably made of some absurdly soft fabric that cost a stupid amount of money.

            The wolf-shifter turned on his heel and headed back to the front door, realizing abruptly that he was pacing.

            So maybe he was nervous – for whatever that was worth.

            Sue him.

            From the cramped front entryway, Wriothesley peered through the open doorway and into the dim kitchen. His feet carried him inside the now barren space, his gaze caressing the faded and cracked wooden table pushed against the wall. His old electric kettle sat on the counter, hard water stains patterning the inside in pale white and green concentric circles. He must have left water in it the last time he used it – months ago, now.

            He had a new kettle, one that was so fancy it could be set to brew his tea for him at the push of a button. Wriothesley had almost refused the gift, claiming it was far too expensive, but Neuvillette had insisted. He’d only used the self-steeping feature twice; really, the extravagant contraption had ended up as just an overpriced water boiler. Perhaps there was something to be said about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks after all.

            Wriothesley’s attention drifted just to the right, over to the fridge and the décor he hadn’t yet managed to take down. Smiling faces stared back at him, various pieces of the past frozen in time and memorialized for eternity. He reached up and plucked one of the polaroids from beneath the strawberry-shaped magnet holding it up. The corners of his mouth lifted without his permission as he considered the photo of himself and Neuvillette crammed onto Sigewinne’s tiny sofa. The whole shot was a mixture of contradictions, between his red t-shirt and heavily tattooed arms, Neuvillette’s midnight blue suit, and the pastel colors of Winnie’s couch and living room framing them. They were both far too tall for the Melusine-sized furniture, giving the impression of two hard-edged men sat down in a dollhouse for an impromptu tea party.

            Wriothesley loved the photo, and the attached memory, dearly.

He slipped it into the pocket of his suit pants to take with him to Neuvillette’s penthouse. He’d been thinking lately that Neuvillette’s fridge had been looking awfully pristine and far too empty.

            His gaze trailed over the other photographs interspersed along the metal surface, lingering on the one from Sigewinne’s going away party, where they’d packed more Melusines than he thought possible into her apartment, and the plethora of pictures of him asleep mid-work in various places around various Meropide properties, including the casino basement and the Ring itself while it was still under construction.

            The spread of recent memories filled him with warmth, chasing away the lingering melancholy of a place that once represented home, now hollowed by the relentless progression of time. This place had kept him safe, warm, and, most importantly, had been some small thing to call his own, through a time where he had little else.

            Now, he’d outgrown it, and it was time to move on.

            His pocket buzzed, a familiar upbeat ringtone filling the quiet kitchen. Wriothesley fished his phone out, ears perking up at the name on the caller ID.  Tail wagging, he brought the device to his ear. “Mike’s bait, tackle, and chipmunk lingerie shop, how can I help you?” he greeted in a chipper voice.

            “I’m pretty sure you’ve used that one before,” Sigewinne sighed over the line, her fond disappointment audible.

            “No, you’re thinking of Mark’s soda pop and dildo emporium – fun for every hole,” Wriothesley corrected with a widening grin as he leaned against the kitchen counter.

            “Ew! Why would you say that?!” she exclaimed, her giggling poorly hidden behind her feigned disgust.

            “Because I miss you and it brings me joy to hear you laugh, Winnie,” he answered honestly, picking at a loose thread on his vest.

            “Wrio, that’s extremely, weirdly sweet, even for you. Why are you trying to butter me up?” Sigewinne’s healthy, well-earned skepticism and superior Melusine observation skills prevailed once more, pinning him down like an insect to a board.

            “No reason. You caught me at a vulnerable moment, that’s all. Don’t take it for granted – it won’t happen again,” he muttered gruffly, clearing his throat pointedly.

            “I see.” Sigewinne paused, then continued, in that wheedling tone she used to fish for information, “You know, I half expected that you would be too busy to answer the phone. Isn’t it almost night where you are? Shouldn’t you be at a certain someone’s penthouse by now? You know, taking your much-needed vacation?” Her hinting, Wriothesley discovered, made the crew at Meropide look subtle, much to his chagrin.

            “Yeah, he’s on his way. I needed to grab some things from my – the old apartment.”

            “Ah, I understand now. Got caught up in old memories?” Her tone turned serious, contemplative in a way that he knew meant she was making space to listen, should he want to open up. It was nice, knowing that, even miles away, she was still willing to do that. Even far away from Fontaine, she had never stopped being his best friend and much-needed anchor.

            “A little bit. Nothing bad. It’s interesting. Moving on to better things is making me realize how much useless junk I’ve been clinging onto, for almost no reason.”

            “Sentimental value is not ‘no reason,’” she admonished. “You’ve had a hard life, and this was your first apartment – your first space that was all yours. It makes sense that your feelings about leaving it would be complex and that you’d find an assortment of strange objects you forgot about.” There was a brief pause, before she amended, “Even if it is an absolute shithole.”

            “Ouch,” Wriothesley snorted, glancing at the tilted oven with the coil stovetop; only two of the burners still worked. “It’s… worn down,” he corrected.

            “Sure, let’s go with that!” she agreed easily, in that chipper tone that told him she was doing so only to placate him in the most patronizing way possible.

            “Enough about me. How’s med school?” Wriothesley changed the subject, eager to hear about her studies in Sumeru. She immediately launched into a lengthy and animated explanation of her current courses and the massive amount of information they’d been given within the first two months. The wolf-shifter wandered through his old apartment, listening intently with a smile on his face as he did some last-minute packing and tidying. He loved hearing about her school experience, about the friends she’d already made and how well the program was treating her. There were some hiccups with accommodations for her height at first, but once the problems were discovered, they were quickly accounted for. Apparently, one of the perks to attending a school stuffed to the brim with ample engineers and academics was that, when a new and interesting problem presented itself, there was a lot of excitement and very little complaint about getting said problem solved. In some cases – Winnie’s included – there was even some competition to get it done faster and better.  

            Just as Sigewinne had exhausted all possible avenues of conversation, including lengthy complaints about the lack of variety afforded to students through the meal plans, despite the wealth of delicious cuisine just outside the campus gates, the flash of headlights turning down the narrow back alley behind his apartment complex caught Wriothesley’s eye. The sleek white car was familiar, and immediately set his pulse racing as he was rapidly reminded of his purported plans for the rest of the evening.

            “– Are you even listening to me? Wriothesley? Your Grace? Hellooo~?” There was brief silence, then a giggle. “Oh, wait, did Monsieur Neuvillette show up?”

            The name jolted Wriothesley out of his own head, and stopped him staring through his kitchen blinds at the gorgeous man getting out of the driver’s side of the car. For some reason, the fact that Neuvillette had elected to chauffeur himself over to pick Wriothesley up, when he so easily could have sent Aeval or any other attendant, made the wolf-shifter’s tail wag contentedly behind him.

            “Yeah, sorry, Winnie. He just pulled up.” Wriothesley cleared his throat awkwardly, looking around for his bag as he headed for the front door.

            “Do not apologize to me. I think it’s cute when you’re distracted by Monsieur –”

            “I am not distracted –”

            “Are too! You went completely silent on me, and I’ll bet it was just as soon as you saw him through the window. You’re no better than a puppy waiting for his favorite person at the front door,” she teased with a mischievous giggle.

            “Winnie,” Wriothesley complained with a hot face and a soft growl, knowing full well she was right but hating to hear it all the same.

            “I’m just teasing. I’ll let you go and have fun on your date.” There was a shuffle as she made to hang up, before she hurriedly cut in again. “Oh! Remember to hydrate, and after performing the bites, it’s best to immediately apply your saliva to help kickstart healing. Give them a few hours, then treat them with regular disinfectant and bandages to ensure proper scarring.” She launched easily into the well-rehearsed spiel, one he’d already heard from her at least thrice.

            “Sigewinne, we’ve already been over this. We’ll follow your instructions thoroughly, I promise.”

            “Okay! Have good sex! Bye!” she cheered merrily into the line before it went dead. Wriothesley slapped a hand over his face, tail tucking between his legs and ears flattening in embarrassment as he rubbed at his eyebrows and muttered about nosy best friends.

            He was given no time to recover as a firm knock echoed through the mostly-empty apartment. His feet carried him the rest of the way to the front entryway, where he opened the door after confirming with a quick inhale that it was indeed Neuvillette on the other side. Wriothesley leaned one arm onto the doorframe and put on his best smirk as he greeted his lover.

            “Fancy seeing you here. What brings you to my humble abode?” He flashed a wide, confident grin, raising a single eyebrow.

            Neuvillette’s faint smile instantly morphed to an expression of bemusement, his mouth twitching at the corners. “Is this a bad time? Shall I come back later?” Neuvillette reached for his phone and made as if to leave, his expression blandly skeptical as he leaned into the joke with a completely flat affect.

            Wriothesley intercepted him, catching his hand, lacing gloved fingers with his own bare ones as he reeled the dragon-shifter back in. “Well, you could leave, but then I’d be sad… and horribly lonely,” Wriothesley informed him with a faintly theatric sigh. He basked in the way Neuvillette melted into his proximity, a wry grin replacing his stoic countenance.

            “We certainly can’t have that, now, can we?” Neuvillette murmured, lips pressing to Wriothesley’s temple as he crowded him up against the doorframe, unapologetically bold as brass as he boxed his lover in. Wriothesley’s tail, ever the honest traitor, thumped against the wall behind him with its incessant wagging.

            “Definitely not, especially after you’ve proposed so many fun activities for this evening.”

            “And those are? Remind me.” Neuvillette raised their joined hands, pinning Wriothesley’s above his head to the doorframe, a move that immediately had heat pooling liquid in his groin. Lips caressed down along his cheek to the tip of his nose and lower still towards his mouth, claiming it in a kiss that was more hungry than sweet.

            Oh.

            Oh.

            None of the passion they’d shared earlier had dissipated; if anything, it had grown, burgeoning in magnitude and urgency into a bonfire of need. One would think it had truly been many touch-starved months, and not mere hours, since their last rendezvous, with how Wriothesley’s free hand clamped down onto the side of Neuvillette’s neck to draw him fervently into a second and third kiss, surrendering to the dragon-shifter’s demanding tongue as a whine built in his throat.

            Fuck, but he was already half hard in his slacks.

            “We should –” Wriothesley had to take a second to breathe, Neuvillette pulling just enough away so he could continue, “– we should go, if we ever want to make it to your place.”

            “You’re correct. My apologies. You smelled so delectable; I simply wanted a taste.” Neuvillette did not sound terribly apologetic, nor did he stop himself from bending to scent the side of Wriothesley’s neck with a deep inhale. “Am I still taking you our for dinner? I did promise.” Neuvillette purred the words against his throat.

            This man was going to be the death of him.

            Wriothesley loved him so very much.

            “Fuck dinner. You can have me for dinner – taste me to your heart’s content – once we’re back at your apartment,” Wriothesley demanded, allowing the dragon-shifter to pass his nose over the juncture of his neck and shoulders one more time before giving him a gentle nudge. “C’mon, don’t make me wait.”

            Neuvillette straightened with a self-satisfied smile, pulling Wriothesley with him. “Do you have everything you need?” The Oratrice family head peered into the small apartment with an obvious air of curiosity. That was fair; the space certainly looked different without all of Wriothesley’s things in it, and he had to admit it did highlight the shabbier aspects of the unit.

            “Yeah, for now. Most everything in here is finally in boxes.” Wriothesley shouldered the bag he’d packed. “Shall we?” He gestured out the open door.  

            “Then let us be on our way. Would you like to drive?” Neuvillette’s hand found the small of Wriothesley’s back as the wolf-shifter locked the apartment behind them, and there it stayed as they headed down the metal staircase towards the parked car.

            “Nah, all yours. I’d prefer to torment you while you drive instead.” Wriothesley grinned with sharp canines, enjoying the smoldering stare the dragon-shifter shot his way.

            “None of that, if you want to find yourself face down in an actual bed tonight, instead of bent over the hood of the car,” Neuvillette informed him casually, opening the driver’s side door and sliding into the seat. Wriothesley couldn’t help his boisterous laugh, the delighted sound bursting from him as he settled in his own far-too-expensive leather seat. The leather cushion was perfectly heated, and he sank in with a shit-eating grin as he secured his seatbelt.

            “Ah, come on, darling, not even a little teasing? Worried you won’t last?” Wriothesley couldn’t resist pushing the envelope a bit further, head tilted back against the seat as he peered across the dimly lit cab into iridescent purple irises, their slit pupils narrowed in their intent desire. Wickedly, he slipped his hand over onto Neuvillette’s thigh, giving a light caress before retracting it with a last squeeze. “Are you that eager for tonight?”

            “Wriothesley,” Neuvillette warned, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly for a long ten-count before he started the car. Shifting into drive, he eased them out of the narrow alley and onto the streets. “Not to be indelicate, but I have been anticipating the events of this evening for the better half of six months – so to say I am eager is a drastic understatement, and certainly does no justice to your own attractive qualities. You are fortunate that I have centuries of practice being patient, or we might still be in your entryway, with your back against the front door and your legs around my waist.”

            Wriothesley whistled low and long, the collar of his shirt suddenly suffocating even with the top two buttons undone. Their scents mingled, rich and heady, in the enclosed space, reminding him of the first time he let Neuvillette get him off in the driver’s seat of his Lamborghini – and the subsequent times they’d found themselves out late and gotten handsy in one car or another. Plus, there had been that one particularly memorable time with his bike…

            He had to stop that train of thought from going any further, or he really would pop a boner in the car.

            “Keep talking like that and I might not care whether it’s a bed or the hood of this car, sweetheart,” he joked, before asking, more quietly, “Only six months? I’d think it was closer to eight or ten, realistically.” He chuckled, gaze followed the streetlamps passing overhead, tracking each as they drove beneath tall buildings glowing with bright lights of various colors.

            A gloved hand pressed down on his upper left thigh, squeezing firmly in a way he knew was meant to be reassuring but made his dick twitch with desire all the same. “I know, beloved, but – we’ve discussed this. With how quickly everything happened last fall –”

            “I know, I know. I needed time to sort my personal shit and make sure this wasn’t just some trauma bonding bullshit – plus, I had about a million injuries that needed to heal.” Wriothesley sighed and pet his fingertips over the hand laying claim to his upper leg. His ears flicked lazily, wavering between each complex thought. “It taking this long is entirely my fault, though. Who knew reconstructing the entire Pankration Ring and rebuilding a gang from the ground up would take all of my attention and energy?”

            “There is no blame here, Wriothesley, nor fault to be passed around. I’ve enjoyed the past year immensely, and I eagerly anticipate those to come – however many we are allowed. I will take each one happily – no, greedily – as long as you are by my side.” Neuvillette spoke with such assurance that Wriothesley felt that tiny, lingering kernel of nervousness buried deep in his gut melt away.

            They’d waited so long for this. After everything, surely it would be all they’d anticipated and more.

            The wolf-shifter coaxed Neuvillette’s hand off his thigh, cradling it between both of his as he brought it to his mouth and brushed his lips reverently over leather-clad knuckles. Steel blue eyes cut across the dark interior of the car, etching Neuvillette’s profile, lit by the nighttime streets of Fontaine, into his memory.

            “I love you, Neuvillette.”

            There was no hesitation in his response – only a smile, warm as a homecoming. “I love you too, Wriothesley.”

            A moment of silence, comfortable and warm, settled around them like a hand-knit blanket. They drove on in peace until Wriothesley, cradling Neuvillette’s free hand to his cheek, broke the quiet, his lips curling into a smirk.

            “Also, you have my full permission to absolutely ravage me in the elevator.”

            “Understood.”

            They managed to keep their hands to themselves exactly as long as it took to traverse the garage and walk up through the lobby. Neuvillette, surprisingly, caved to desire first, slipping one of his hands into Wriothesley’s back pocket and giving a hearty squeeze to his ass while they waited for the elevator to descend.

            As soon as the doors chimed closed behind them, all bets were off. Neuvillette barely got his card scanned and the right button pressed, locking in their uninterruptable trajectory to the appropriate floor, before Wriothesley’s fingers grappled at his belt loops, mouth affixed to the side of his neck, where his arousal-sweetened scent was strongest. He inhaled deeply, managed to scrape his fangs over flesh only once before his lips were caught in a searing, breath-stealing kiss.

            Powerful hands hoisted Wriothesley’s legs up around a lean waist, allowing his prodigious thighs to clamp securely around Neuvillette just as his back hit the elevator’s side wall with jarring force. Wriothesley, high on pheromones and the joy of sweet anticipation realized, met Neuvillette’s heady kisses with equal ardor, parting his lips to suck on the dragon-shifter’s long tongue. The heat racing along his spine left him utterly unashamed of the needy groan ripped from his throat as Neuvillette rolled his hips forward, grinding their hard erections together through the fine material of their suits.

            “You smell divine.” Neuvillette pressed the words against his lips, allowing Wriothesley one short breath before his tongue dove back into the wolf-shifter’s mouth, pressing deep enough to flick the back of his throat. Blissful tears stung at the corners of Wriothesley’s eyes as he forced past his gag reflex to swallow.

            Neuvillette’s hands slid southward to grab two handfuls of Wriothesley’s ass, using the leverage to direct the ceaseless undulations of his hips until it felt as though the dragon-shifter was all but fucking him through his pants. It was driving Wriothesley insane – the semi-public location where anyone might spot them, the fierce and wanting way Neuvillette kissed him, the intensity with which his lover dry-humped him against the wall. He was terrified he was going to cum in his pants before they even got to the apartment.

            “Fuck –!” Wriothesley gasped, as that wicked tongue left his throat, sliding instead down the side of his neck, sharpened teeth following in its wake as the wolf-shifter panted for air. Through tear-blurred eyes, he could see the faint glow of Neuvillette’s rhinophores, longer and more pronounced, and the scales now dappling his cheekbones and throat. Neuvillette’s normally flawless control of his form was slipping, a testament to their unfiltered desire – and what a gratifying thought that was. Wriothesley loved that he could unravel the impeccable restraint Neuvillette maintained so effortlessly almost every moment of his life. It was a power trip, one he couldn’t get enough of.

            Soon, he’d be able to remind himself of that heady feeling every time he looked in a mirror.

            “Can’t wait to wear your bite on my neck,” Wriothesley growled, hands fisting into silver strands, meeting the dragon-shifter’s next thrust with his own.

            “Likewise,” Neuvillette growled, low and possessive. Neither of them registered the ding of the elevator, thoroughly occupied as their mouths collided once more. They hungrily fought for control, teeth tugging on lips until Wriothesley surrendered with a bright laugh. The sound was cut short by the insistent press of Neuvillette’s tongue as it slid to the back of his throat once more, replaced by a guttural moan from deep in his chest that choked off near immediately into an indistinct whine.

            The elevator chimed again in warning, the doors beginning to close. Neuvillette’s hand shot out, just barely triggering the sensor to slam them back open.

            He broke their kiss with a gasp, setting Wriothesley onto his feet only to hoist him up easily over one shoulder, a possessive hand on the wolf-shifter’s ass as he strolled at a brisk walk to the front door of his penthouse suite.

            “Ah! Hey!” Wriothesley protested, more from surprise than any real objection. His tail flicked about in the air, animated and uncontrollable, swatting Neuvillette in the face until a harsh hand slapped his ass. It trailed over from there, encircling and tugging on the fluffy appendage just firmly enough to have Wriothesley’s toes curling in his boots and a surprised yelp leaving his mouth. His own hands slammed down onto his mate-to-be’s ass, grasping it tightly for stability as much as anything else.

            Growling low in his throat in response, Neuvillette struggled one-handed with the keycard for a split second longer than normal before the door clicked open. He didn’t bother neatly dispensing with shoes or coats, slamming the door closed behind them with his foot and throwing the lock with a twist before he finally set Wriothesley down once more.

            The wolf-shifter managed to behave until exactly the moment his feet hit the ground. He waited just long enough for Neuvillette to straighten to full height before, with a playful growl of “My turn,” he picked up his lover.

            “Wriothesley?” Neuvillette questioned in alarm, before his ass met the cushions of the couch situated mere paces away. Wriothesley practically dove on top of him, tail wagging in wide sweeping arcs as his ears perked up animatedly atop his head. A stunning crimson blush bloomed lightly along Neuvillette’s cheeks, and Wriothesley savored the rare sight, the chances to truly fluster the dragon-shifter few and far between.

            “Yes?” Wriothesley asked, with a wicked smirk and breathless impertinence, quickly straddling his partner, his lover, his mate, finding the hair tie at the end of Neuvillette’s braid and tugging it free with a flick of his wrist so he could run his fingers through the silken strands. With his ass settled directly over Neuvillette’s crotch, he was rewarded with the delicious hardness of not one but two bulges pressing eagerly against the back seam of his tight slacks. The satisfaction at eliciting such a response from his mate-to-be had him preening as he swooped down to lavish kisses along the sharp line of Neuvillette’s jaw.

            “I will assume that we are not making it to our bed,” Neuvillette purred, hands finding Wriothesley’s waistband and making quick work of the nice leather belt there, tugging it free of the loops and casting it carelessly to the floor below.

            “Not right away, we’re not. Figured we could get a few rounds in before we make it to the bite. What do you think?” Wriothesley continued kissing down the column of Neuvillette’s throat, nipping here and there, pausing over the juncture of the dragon-shifter’s neck and shoulders to lave his tongue against the spot, relishing Neuvillette’s lust and oceanic scent. “Haven’t had your cock in my mouth in ages. Haven’t ridden you since my rut, either. I want to taste you, sweetheart,” he growled as his lips travelled lower, stymied only as white fabric got in the way.

            Neuvillette’s sharp inhale below him, the flex of his abs and the way his cocks twitched against Wriothesley’s ass was answer enough, a delicious physical encouragement – almost as much as the dragon-shifter’s firm nod and the way his gaze sharpened hungrily as he followed Wriothesley’s descent.

            “How much do you care about this shirt?” the wolf-shifter asked, as his hands fisted in the fabric to either side of the vertical row of buttons obscuring skin from view. Neuvillette gave him a fondly exasperated look, sitting up briefly to shrug out of his suit jacket properly, draping it over the back of the couch to save it from the violent passion of their coupling.

            “Not enough to admonish you, I suppose, and it is not unrepairable or irreplaceable. Do with it as you please,” he acquiesced, his hands clamping around Wriothesley’s waist possessively, directing each small, aborted roll of his hips – tiny teases entirely meant to keep Neuvillette hard and on edge under him.

            Not needing to be told twice, Wriothesley ripped the shirt open, filled with glee as buttons bounced off every direction, scattering across the hardwood floor and rug. The rent fabric revealed the winding blue ink of the dragon tattoo, a sight he’d grown quite fond of in the last year.

            Impatient fingers snaked into his hair, tugging him downwards to meet Neuvillette’s mouth in a messy kiss as his clawed fingertips continued to untuck and yank the shirt clear of pristinely pressed slacks. Neuvillette’s belt was Wriothesley’s next victim, only opened far enough to allow his deft fingers access to the fly of his lover’s slacks; this was quickly yanked open and out of his way. Another button sailed across the room to a disapproving grumble from Neuvillette, his dismay obvious as he broke away just to track the miniscule disc with his lilac gaze.

            All complaints were quickly forgotten, however, as Wriothesley reclaimed the dragon-shifter’s mouth, and took the opportunity to slide his warm palm over the swell of both erections, rubbing teasingly along the side of the top one with the pad of his thumb. He was inordinately pleased to feel a damp patch near the heads, hear the sharp intake of breath at the intimate touch, each and every sign of Neuvillette’s ardent desire for this, for him, monumentally gratifying.

            “Eager?” he breathed, laughing against his lover’s lips, and received a sharp bite to his bottom lip in swift retribution for his cheek.

            “I believe we have, at this juncture, well established my desire for you, not only this evening, but every day, night, and hour-in-between hereafter, beloved,” Neuvillette growled, yanking harshly on Wriothesley’s hair, fingers buried just behind his ears.

            “Touché. Just wanted to hear you say so out loud; it turns me on when I can tell I’m all you’re thinking about.” Wriothesley grinned, pulling against Neuvillette’s hold just enough to feel the tingling of his scalp and planting a wet kiss on the other man’s lips. At the next insistent tug, he complied with Neuvillette’s unspoken demand, sliding down his lover’s body. As he slipped south, Neuvillette slowly, casually, bent his right knee, lifting his thigh just enough so that it rubbed up against the underside of Wriothesley’s hard cock and along his balls. The motion caught him by surprise, and he tipped forward to moan directly against the other man’s chest, a shudder wracking his body at the surge of heat shooting like wildfire up his spine. He couldn’t resist grinding his erection against the meat of Neuvillette’s thigh, nipping at the swell of the dragon-shifter’s pecs as he humped his leg like a desperate wolf in rut.

            “Oh?” Neuvillette’s voice dipped in sultry, condescending amusement. He caught Wriothesley’s chin in his bare-handed grip, gloves tossed aside somewhere in the intervening moments. “Is something wrong, pet?” His thumb smeared roughly over Wriothesley’s bottom lip, that cool violet gaze raking over his body hungrily and lighting fires wherever it lingered. “I thought you wanted my cock in your mouth.”

            “Yes,” Wriothesley groaned, pressing the flat of his tongue against Neuvillette’s thumb, sucking it into his mouth with an obscene slurp and a beseeching glance up to his lover. Neuvillette merely raised an unimpressed brow, and a small scoff was all the warning Wriothesley got before the digit was retracted with an audible pop and the thigh between his legs lowered back to the sofa, depriving him of the sweet, distracting friction. The sudden loss had him whining, dizzy and yearning for more, more, more.

            “Then be a good boy,” Neuvillette commanded, “and get to it.” Fingers tightened demandingly in Wriothesley’s hair, tugging him down further, and, oh, how willingly he went. The couch was blessedly long enough that he could spread out, lying flat on his stomach as he freed Neuvillette’s cocks from his underwear, admiring their shape and coloring as he slicked his palm with pre-cum from the heads and gave them a tentative stroke from base to tip.

            As much as he would normally be inclined to tease, to stretch out both their pleasure until they combusted in a conflagration of lust, he craved the salty tang of Neuvillette’s lengths in his mouth more, and quickly took the bottom one between his lips, suckling at the head, tail happily swaying in the air behind him. He pressed his tongue to the underside, flicking it just under the flared ridge as he hollowed his cheeks. The taste was divine, but even more gratifying was the way Neuvillette’s eyes grew slightly unfocused, half-lidded in their pleasure. His expression managed to be simultaneously smug yet appreciative as he watched Wriothesley take his length further into his mouth, clawed fingers stroking encouragingly through salt-and-pepper hair.

            Wriothesley wanted those eyes on him and only him.

            He bobbed his head, shallowly fucking the inside of his cheek with the tip of the dragon-shifter’s length as his free hand slicked over the second cock, stroking it in a slow and steady rhythm meant entirely to entice rather than coax to completion. The wolf-shifter lost himself to the tempo of his ministrations, driving Neuvillette’s breathing shallower with each bob of his head until he felt the telltale twitch of the fingers in his hair. As though on cue, Wriothesley pushed forward, taking the cock to the back of his throat and then further, until he felt it slide deeper. He swallowed around the delicious obstruction, moaning as he forced himself to relax and not gag, the oxygen deprivation making his brain buzz with excitement and alarm.

            Neuvillette groaned above him, fingers flexing, claws scraping against Wriothesley’s scalp as his hips gave an aborted thrust, pressing his length a centimeter deeper into the wolf-shifter’s airway, and then just a bit more – a little too much more. Wriothesley pulled back, kissing the swollen tip before he coughed briefly, sucking in air as saliva spilled down over his lips. He wiped his chin, catching some and using it to slick both draconic lengths as he gathered them in hand and squeezed just under the heads.

            “Sovereigns, Wriothesley,” Neuvillette whispered, winded, carding fingers through the wolf-shifter’s hair, running his thumbs over Wriothesley’s ears. “You are stunning.” All of the praise shot straight to Wriothesley’s groin, his cock aching all the more with Neuvillette’s blatant admiration.

            “Why, thank you,” he rasped, kissing along each shaft before he took the neglected cock into his mouth, happily gorging himself on the scent of his lover’s arousal and the taste of his precum in the back of his throat. He took it deeper with each bob of his head, encouraging Neuvillette to thrust upwards and fuck his throat as he established a rhythm. Just as he felt Neuvillette’s fingers tense, felt him approach his peak, Wriothesley switched to the other cock, grinning wickedly at the frustrated hiss from his lover.

            It was a fun game, bringing Neuvillette so close to the edge, hearing him growl low in irritation each time he approached only to be denied. It didn’t take terribly long, however, for Neuvillette’s want to outweigh even his immense patience, and he yanked Wriothesley up towards him, catching the wolf-shifter by the back of his neck and tugging him close.

            Wriothesley only had a moment to be surprised and disoriented before Neuvillette flipped them, slamming him back into the couch cushions as he parted the wolf-shifters’ thighs and slid between them like he belonged there.

            (He did, and Wriothesley welcomed him home, enthusiastically, with a laugh and a hug.)

            “I regret to inform you, beloved, that you are currently far too clothed for my immediate preference,” Neuvillette mused in a low, rumbling tone, his lilac eyes deepened to something dark and delicious as he hooked a finger in the front of Wriothesley’s nice button-down shirt and ripped it wide open with the flick of his wrist. “‘Turnabout is fair play,’ I believe, is the phrase.”

            “Is that so?” Wriothesley needled with a feral grin, lifting first one leg and then the other to yank his own boots off, tossing them haphazardly across the room, out of sight and out of mind. Wriothesley received his answer when Neuvillette all but ripped his pants off him, too, shucking the tattered remains from his legs to follow what was left of his shirt. “Oh, shit, you weren’t kidding,” he laughed in delight, passion singing in his veins.

            They hadn’t fucked like this since his rut.

            As far as he was concerned, they were long overdue.

            “‘Kidding’? Wriothesley, I never jest about how badly I want you,” Neuvillette purred, hoisting one leg up and to his mouth, abruptly sinking his teeth into the meat of Wriothesley’s thigh. The wolf-shifter shouted in surprise and delight, back arching at the sudden surge of pain that made him squirm and dig his claws into the couch cushions.

            “Fuck! Fuck, Neuvillette, warn a man – shit!” Wriothesley’s head fell back, a gasp ripped from his chest as a second bite was delivered higher up his inner thigh, this one sucked into his skin until a dark bruise blossomed underneath the indentations of razor-sharp teeth.

            Wriothesley writhed under the attention, the front of his grey boxer-briefs stained with a dark wet patch over the aching head of his cock. He was not at all surprised when Neuvillette rapidly divested him of those as well, and in one smooth motion, the dragon-shifter dove down, hoisting Wriothesley’s legs over both shoulders and took his cock into his mouth. His long tongue wrapped around the head before his lips sealed around it, sinking down fluidly until his nose brushed the hair curled at the base. Wriothesley felt that smooth, sinuous tongue slide along his cock, the wet heat enveloping it miraculous in the way it made pleasure spark hot and liquid in his lower stomach, coiling tight and restless, driving his hips to thrust up into Neuvillette’s’ throat. Blessedly, he knew the dragon-shifter could take whatever he had to give, had been oh-so-matter-of-factly informed ages ago that Neuvillette didn’t possess a gag reflex at all, and, as it happened, quite enjoyed driving Wriothesley to the point where he lacked any sense of self-restraint.

            Distracted as he was by the talented mouth sucking him off, Wriothesley jolted when slick fingers pressed to his entrance, first one, then immediately a second, working him open carefully, following his motions as he rolled his hips for more. He whimpered, tail lashing as those fingers curled and then thrust deep within him; his ears lay back as his ability to think coherent thoughts left the building. Generously, Neuvillette spared him a too-quick end, pulling off his cock with a pop, admiring the deep flush dusting Wriothesley’s cheeks as he worked a third finger into the wolf-shifter, tugging at the rim of his ass to loosen him up further.

            “I seem to recall,” Neuvillette mused, peering down at his mate-to-be with a look so smug and adoring it melted Wriothesley to mush all over again, “that you mentioned something about not having ridden me in some time.”

            “I – hn – I want to…” Wriothesley managed to say, eloquent considering the fingers still working deep inside of him, massaging over his prostate in a way that dangled him dangerously close to the edge of oblivion. In the past year, Neuvillette had made it his life’s mission to learn every inch of Wriothesley’s body, everything that made him sigh and squirm and whimper, all the ways to touch him and tie him up and make him melt in his lover’s grasp. It was no wonder, given such acute attention, that Wriothesley was mere putty in Neuvillette’s hands whenever they managed to spend quality time together.

            “I know you do, my love,” Neuvillette cooed, licking over one of the many bites decorating Wriothesley’s inner thighs. “But I must say, you look terribly sweet as you are. I could happily play with you like this for hours – bring you close to the crux of your pleasure, only to stop and watch you writhe on my fingers.” His tone rang with a chord of command, tinged with that hint of haughty amusement, a dragon playing with a toy. The casual flex of authority drove Wriothesley mad, not only with want, but with the desire to challenge that smug self-assurance. That tone set something off inside of him, and he reacted on wolfish instinct, snarling aloud at the idea of something he sought being intentionally kept just out of reach. The stark denial of his wants made him yearn to misbehave all the more, to fight back and take the pleasure being kept from him.

            Neuvillette responded in kind, biting harshly at his hip in reprimand as he thrust his fingers deep and pointed. The heady combination drew a keening whine out of Wriothesley, his back arching spectacularly as his retaliation was cut abruptly short. His ears pinned back, claws digging into the couch as his pale blue eyes zeroed in on Neuvillette’s placid expression over the swell of his own chest. Around him, the aroma of an oncoming storm rose, Neuvillette purposefully goading him on with scent, clearly enjoying the spark of fight left in the wolf-shifter.

            With such bait, how could he not rise to the challenge?

            Wriothesley yielded to no man, and only one dragon – but he would make that dragon earn it.

            “Love…” Wriothesley growled, the noise pitching upwards into a whine as Neuvillette’s fingers caressed his prostate yet again.

            “Beg me,” Neuvillette commanded from between his legs, the hand not working fingers slowly in and out of Wriothesley instead stroking over his cock at a pace more torturous than it was pleasurable. “Beg, and I’ll allow you to ride me to your first orgasm.”

            They’d played this game enough that Wriothesley knew how to win. All he had to do was say please – but his stubborn will made such a simple word a near-impossible admission. Instead, he, foolishly, attempted to sit up, to gain some sort of upper hand, only for Neuvillette to abandon his length and shove him down, claws pricking at his chest.

            The couch protested as Wriothesley’s back slammed into the cushions.

            “Shit –!” Wriothesley swore with a winded half-laugh, staring up at the ceiling as his tail thrashed, whacking the back of the sofa repeatedly.

            “You know better than that,” Neuvillette chided gently, securing his hand back around the wolf-shifter’s cock, squeezing just under the head in a way that made pleasure surge in Wriothesley’s veins with nowhere to go. He writhed, the fingers inside of him pressing deep but staying perfectly still right against his prostate, brushing against it in tiny little motions that were more frustrating than anything else.

            It was agony, the heat and pleasure dancing around him just out of reach in a way that he was pretty sure was certifiable torture. Sovereigns above, he fucking loved this man and his wicked fingers.

            “F-fucking – fine! Please! Please let me ride you,” Wriothesley begged sweetly, his heels scrabbling uselessly against the cushions and Neuvillette’s back, trying to find just enough purchase to grind himself forward – anything for a bit of friction to alleviate the delicious ache of being edged beyond reason. His cock was painfully hard, longing for relief and flushed bright red at the tip, the beginnings of a knot swelling at the base.

            “Good boy.” Neuvillette purred the praise, releasing his lover’s cock and sliding his fingers free. He laid tender kisses up Wriothesley’s heaving chest, sweetly stroking the side of his throat with lips and teeth until he reached the other man’s ear. His hands followed suit, lazy, meandering, petting Wriothesley’s skin, easing the sparks that prickled like static across the wolf-shifter’s flesh from being toyed with for so long. “How are you, beloved?” Neuvillette’s nose traced along the edge of his ear, his breath brushing past in a shiver-inducing caress with the question.

            The serious undercurrent to his words had Wriothesley’s brain kicking on, registering the familiar check-in. His hands instantly sought out his lover, tracing reassuringly along the dragon-shifter’s sides and up to his chest.

            “Good,” he breathed, tilting his head to capture Neuvillette’s lips in a soft kiss. “I want to keep going – for you to come inside me while I ride you,” he murmured. “And then we can go upstairs, for the…?” He whispered the question against his mate-to-be’s lips.

            “That sounds delightful.” Neuvillette’s hips pressed to Wriothesley’s, their hard lengths creating sweet friction that had both men shivering against one another. “One or both of my cocks, my pet?”

            “One, for now.” Wriothesley managed a grin, stealing a final kiss as he made to sit up again, shoving Neuvillette back. His lover went willingly, settling properly into the couch with Wriothesley on his lap, and oh, was he a sight to see. Silver hair rippled in silken waves around him, loose and flowing freely; lilac eyes shone bright and fierce, and luminescent scales dappled his skin.

            He looked every part the dragon lord of the Oratrice – and he was all Wriothesley’s.

            The wolf-shifter settled over Neuvillette, winding fingers through the long, moonlight strands of hair as he lined up one of Neuvillette’s cocks with his entrance. He wasted no time sinking down onto it with a pleased rumble deep in his chest.

            “Fuck, you feel so good. I missed this. Missed you, these past few weeks…” Wriothesley gasped, gripping the back of the sofa with one hand. He bowed forward, keeping their foreheads pressed together as he rolled his hips, sinking slowly down on the thick length inside him before rising up again with a whimper. The ridges stretched his entrance, adding delightful friction each time the cock passed over his prostate. Neuvillette’s hands clamped onto his hips, grip bruising tight as he guided his lover’s movements, grinding up to meet him until, with a harsh slap of skin, he truly bottomed out. Reaching between them, the dragon-shifter grasped his second length and Wriothesley’s cock, stroking them in time with each pointed thrust.

            The deep angle left Wriothesley breathless, lips parted against Neuvillette’s in a clumsy attempt at a kiss. It was sweet bliss, being filled by that thick cock, held tightly by Neuvillette’s strong clawed hands as he bounced in his lover’s lap again and again and again. He was barely holding on, his nerves and the tight heat in his gut winding ever tighter with each thrust and subsequent stroke of the hand on their lengths. He drowned in the taste of Neuvillette on his tongue, instincts demanding he nip and bite at the flesh below him as he approached a fantastic end.

            So desperately, Wriothesley wanted to sink his teeth into Neuvillette’s skin, deeply, properly, but even in his lust-addled state, he knew it wasn’t time.

            Not yet.

            With a guttural growl, he settled for leaning down, claws carving into the back of the sofa as he sank his teeth into the curved, solid muscle of Neuvillette’s shoulder instead. He heard and felt the vibration of Neuvillette’s deep moan at the bite, elegant hands flexing against his hips, draconic claws digging painfully into flesh. Wriothesley was lost to the impending wave of his orgasm as Neuvillette sped his own pace, driving his hips upwards, nailing Wriothesley’s prostate with each thrust, until the wolf-shifter was whimpering against his skin.

            Wriothesley came hard, white streaking up between their chests. Neuvillette stroked him through it, squeezing a hand down around the knot at the base of his cock, sending pure ecstasy shooting down his spine as the dragon-shifter expertly milked his orgasm from him. It was all the wolf-shifter could do in the aftermath to wind his arms around his mate-to-be’s neck and hold on tight as he was fucked hard and fast, Neuvillette desperately chasing his own release.

            “You are divine, Wriothesley, so hot and tight around me, and so beautiful in your pleasure.” Each piece of praise was pressed into Wriothesley’s sweat-soaked skin as Neuvillette nuzzled and kissed along his throat, the words low and rough as the dragon-shifter neared his own peak.

            Neuvillette snarled as he came, slamming his cock deep inside of Wriothesley, hands indenting the plush swells of the wolf-shifter’s ass to hold him down as his lover pumped him full of cum. Teeth sank into the skin just above Wriothesley’s clavicle, drawing a whine from the wolf-shifter as he registered that, for all it felt so unbelievably good, the bite wasn’t quite where he so badly wanted it.

            Soon. Soon they would exchange their marks, placed in the proper location. For now, it was enough that Wriothesley could nuzzle against the damp skin of his mate-to-be, lapping at the small wound he’d made as they both caught their breath.

            It took longer than anticipated for the fuzziness of his orgasm to fade, every nerve in his body tingling in the aftermath as he draped against the dragon-shifter, entirely disinclined to move.

            Would sex with Neuvillette ever stop being world-shattering, he wondered absently. And how had he lasted so many weeks without hunting this man down for at least a kiss and a quick exchange of blowjobs.

            Evidently, Neuvillette’s thoughts lingered somewhere in that same vicinity. “It’s been too long,” he whispered against Wriothesley’s throat.

            The wolf-shifter hummed in agreement as he rested, eyes closed, contentedly cradled in his lover’s arms. “Agreed. We have got to get better at scheduling casual opportunities to fuck…” he sighed, finally lifting his head from the Oratrice leader’s shoulder with a reluctant groan.

            “Must you make it sound so crass?” Neuvillette complained halfheartedly. Wedgewood-blue eyes met lilac, their corners creasing with matching grins. The two came together in a kiss, lips parting only to touch once more, time and time again; they drowned in the postcoital bliss of passion and romance, twined into one tender moment. Sweet kisses turned slow and lethargic, and then gained ferocity as simmering heat reignited from the embers in their veins. Neuvillette’s cock twitched inside of Wriothesley in a valiant attempt to become hard again.

            “Hang on a minute,” Wriothesley mumbled against Neuvillette’s mouth, tail swatting the dragon-shifter’s thighs, laughing softly at the immediate embarrassment that bloomed faintly across sharp cheekbones. “We’re not doing round two on the couch. I demand a bed for any further fucking, or my back is going to have some complaints tomorrow.” He nipped playfully at Neuvillette’s jaw until his mate-to-be loosened up with laughter of his own; Wriothesley’s ears perked upwards at the mesmerizing sound, and he couldn’t help the grin threatening at the corners of his mouth.

            With a bit of effort, the wolf-shifter lifted himself off Neuvillette’s cock, sliding away from the couch to stand before his lover on mostly steady legs, tail swishing lazily back and forth, ears twitching gently. He watched with satisfaction as Neuvillette’s throat bobbed heavily, lilac gaze falling immediately to hone in on his inner thighs, marred with a smattering of darkening love bites and trailing spend that leaked from his ass to trickle down the back of his legs.

            “See something you like?” he taunted lowly, stretching his arms over his head until his spine and shoulders both popped. He flexed all his muscles with each languid roll of his body, intentionally putting on a show.

            “I think that you are well aware of the answer to that particular line of inquiry,” Neuvillette huffed as he also stood, not even bothering to tuck his half-hard cocks back into his pants or underwear as he reached around to smack Wriothesley playfully on the ass. The wolf-shifter dodged out of range, light on his feet even after such a workout.

            “Doesn’t mean I don’t like to hear it anyway,” Wriothesley chuckled, continuing to saunter his way towards the staircase up to the bedroom. He paused halfway up, leaning over the banister when he noticed his lover, despite watching him with such a heavy-lidded gaze, hadn’t moved an inch. He raised a quizzical eyebrow, peering back with a curious smirk. “Aren’t you gonna join me?”

            “I am, shall we say, appreciating the view,” Neuvillette murmured, his voice dropping low and tight and his lavender eyes sharp – no, Wriothesley revised smugly. Ravenous. The wolf-shifter grinned, full of nothing but mischief and salacious plans, tail flicking with excitement.

            “Well, you could be appreciating the much nicer – and, I’d think, more satisfying – view of me face down, ass up in bed, but not if you continue to stand there gaping like a fish all night.” Wriothesley cocked his head to the side, exposing his neck to Neuvillette’s scrutiny as he braced his hands wide on the banister, showing off the broad stretch of his shoulders and the defined muscles from his years fighting in the Ring.

            Neuvillette made to follow him, and then paused, his gaze wavering away and towards the kitchen. “Water,” he murmured. “You will need water – and dinner. Perhaps we ought to eat, before we continue…” His halfhearted musings didn’t seem to convince even himself, as his lilac eyes drifted back to where Wriothesley posed on the stairs.

            “Suit yourself,” the wolf-shifter shrugged, about-facing to continue his slow saunter up the stairs with a roguish grin. “I’m going to go rub my body all over your sheets until it smells like both of us in there.”

            It took less than five seconds for Neuvillette to follow him, the hairs on the backs of Wriothesley’s arms and neck standing on end at the approaching storm of a person that swept up the staircase behind him in a sudden rush of wind and petrichor scent. It took all his concentration not to sprint up the remaining steps at the impending threat, instead letting Neuvillette overtake him. The dragon-shifter swept Wriothesley up into his arms, cradling the wolf-shifter to his chest as he carried his lover bridal-style the rest of the way to the bedroom.

            “I knew you couldn’t resist,” Wriothesley grinned as his arms snaked around his mate-to-be’s neck. He relished his victory for all of three seconds before Neuvillette paused a few feet beyond the doorway and tossed him bodily onto the bed. An undignified shout left him as he sailed through the air, tail bristling until he faceplanted harmlessly into the soft comforter with a muffled “Oof!” and breathy laugh.

            “That is for being a brat when I am attempting to ensure we are both well taken care of.” Neuvillette stalked across the room, his tail sliding out from the base of his spine as he began to shift. It was a sight to behold, scales gleaming in the moonlight that streamed in through the wide floor-to-ceiling window on the far side. The long appendage slipped across the carpet with a gentle swish as Wriothesley scrambled up in an attempt to get his knees underneath him. His grin widened, his heart thudding in his chest at the playful wrestling.

            “And this –” Neuvillette descended upon him, catching one of Wriothesley’s ankles and yanking his leg out from under him. The dragon-shifter hauled him across the bed, tugging Wriothesley right to the mattress’ edge and underneath him in one swift movement. “This is for being an incorrigible tease since the moment I picked you up – no, since this afternoon.” Neuvillette grasped both of Wriothesley’s wrists in one hand, pinning them above the wolf-shifter’s head as he loomed over his lover with a pleased smirk. “Now, are you going to behave and allow me to lavish you with affection before we mark one another, or must I put you in your place again?”

            Wriothesley swallowed thickly underneath that stern gaze, recognizing the deep tenor of his mate-to-be’s voice as the one Neuvillette used when they really played in bed. That Neuvillette might be in the mood to tie him up or even flog him was an appealing prospect, and Wriothesley had to take a moment, dithering heavily over the two equally delectable options.

            “I’m sure we can strike a nice middle ground, don’t you think?” he finally asked with a sultry smirk, reaching out for the man above him and trying to make like he wasn’t already breathless and besotted by the current manhandling.

            One of Neuvillette’s pristine white eyebrows raised upwards at the non-answer, his mouth pressing into a flat line. “Wriothesley,” he warned, narrowing his eyes. His free hand skated up Wriothesley’s body, trailing from his ankle up to his thigh and over his hip in light, grazing touches of claw.

            Shivering under Neuvillette’s touch, Wriothesley caved like wet paper.

            Archons, but this man made him weak.

            “Are you asking because you want me to choose myself, or because you’re worried I’ll ruin any further attempts at being thoughtful by being a complete brat?” He beamed at Neuvillette, relaxing into the dragon-shifter’s hold rather than fighting it.

            “Both. While I am always more than overjoyed to play rough with you, I would prefer to mark you, officially, under circumstances a bit more romantic than you being tied to the bed and gagged.” Neuvillette chuckled deeply, his hand skating over warm skin, higher and higher until his thumb found Wriothesley’s nipple. He traced over the small nub, catching on the barbell pierced through it. “What do you say?”

            It wasn’t often Neuvillette voiced a preference for how they enjoyed one another; when he did, Wriothesley always found it warmed something in his chest – especially when the Oratrice family head went out of his way to request something as sweet as a romantic night.

            “I have to agree. Gagging me does seem like it would be pretty counterproductive to biting, after all.” Wriothesley grinned, surveying the beautiful planes of Neuvillette’s face as they breathed each other in. “Can I ask for one thing, though?”

            “Of course, beloved,” Neuvillette agreed without hesitation. “What is it?”

            “If you’re going to make love to me, I want both your cocks.” Wriothesley tilted his head, watching Neuvillette with a much softer gaze.

            “…I can accommodate that,” the dragon-shifter answered slowly. “You’re certain?” His tone took on a cautious edge.

            “Yeah – more than.” Wriothesley leaned up, brushing his lips over the rim of Neuvillette’s pointed ear as he whispered his next, intentionally tantalizing, words. “I want to feel all of you when you finally claim me.” He dropped back to the bed with a satisfied smirk as his words took their desired effect, watching the beautiful way the dragon-shifter’s pupils dilated with want, the way his muscles tensed as though preparing to pounce.

            “…Yes,” Neuvillette murmured reverently, his hungry gaze tracing over every inch of Wriothesley, bare and pinned beneath him, and then repeated again, “Yes. I would greatly enjoy that.”

            Mouth curling into a fond smile and warmth curling in his groin at the appreciative gaze, Wriothesley beckoned Neuvillette closer with a sultry look and an arch of his neck that left it exposed for the taking.

            Alluring, yes – but also a show of trust, so deep at this point it was inscribed into Wriothesley’s bones.

            The dragon-shifter couldn’t resist the freely-offered treat, diving down to lavish the side of Wriothesley’s throat with soft kisses and light bites, testing the give of skin but not breaking through. Still pinned to the bed, Wriothesley couldn’t do much more than purr his appreciation at the gentle attentions lavished upon him.

            “Would it be easier from behind?” Wriothesley sighed the suggestion, his back arching as sharp draconic fangs brushed a particular spot that sent warm, tingling sparks shooting along his nerves.

            Neuvillette hummed thoughtfully before nodding his agreement. “Roll over for me, beloved,” he encouraged with a smirk, releasing the wrists in his grasp and teasing his fingers down Wriothesley’s arms to his waist.

            “You’re the one that put me on my back – and dragged me across the bed while you were at it,” the wolf-shifter complained good-naturedly, flipping himself over onto his stomach. He slid further up the mattress, stretching out atop the soft comforter. His tail perked up into the air with a sassy sway as he yanked a pillow closer, daring a coy glance over his shoulder, as if this new position didn’t taunt his lover with a perfect view of his already-used hole.

            “Incorrigible,” Neuvillette snorted, stripping off his pants and underwear and folding them into a neat stack that he set atop the nearby dresser. Wriothesley watched him shamelessly, pale blue eyes caressing the smooth lines of his lean body before settling heavily upon the hard cocks between Neuvillette’s legs, both curved upwards and glistening at the tip. His own length twitched at the sight, then again as his mate-to-be prowled towards the bed.

            Anticipation mounted like an ever-increasing pressure in his veins as the mattress dipped with Neuvillette’s weight. Cool hands slid up the backs of Wriothesley’s thighs to his ass, cupping the rounded muscles there and squeezing, only to press his cheeks apart. Wriothesley’s breath hitched as he felt the drag of a wet thumb glide over his hole, tugging at the cum-slicked rim in a way that hinted at what was soon to come.

            “Do you think you’re loose enough to take all of me right away, beloved?” Neuvillette purred above him. A dark flush colored the back of Wriothesley’s neck as he glanced over his shoulder to find the dragon-shifter regarding his dripping entrance with a feral gleam in his eye.

            “Probably. Why? Did you have something in mind?” Wriothesley shifted his hips, rising slightly onto his knees, tail curling up towards his shoulders as electricity rushed down his spine. There was something about the intensity with which Neuvillette admired him that always seemed to leave Wriothesley hot and aching for him.

            “I think, perhaps, I had best ensure that is the case,” Neuvillette murmured after a beat. Wriothesley’s brows furrowed in confusion for half a second before hands gripped his cheeks more firmly, spreading them wide. He gasped as what could only have been Neuvillette’s tongue prodded at his hole, slipping inside without resistance.

            “F-fuck!” Wriothesley gripped the pillow tighter, his spine bowing and hips grinding instinctively back as he tried to get that sinful tongue deeper. The sinuous length began to thrust in slow, pointed motions, curling at the end to brush teasingly at his prostate. He shuddered, cheek pressed to the pillow below, fingers clutching at the comforter for some sort of purchase as he rolled his hips to meet Neuvillette’s terrible, wonderful mouth, not bothering to suppress the moans falling from his own lips.

            Neuvillette chuckled softly, sending tremulous vibrations rocketing through Wriothesley; moments later, a questing thumb slipped beside the dragon-shifter’s tongue. Wriothesley shivered, feeling the tug at the edge of his hole, the slow way Neuvillette teased him open with each languid curl and light press. Sensation enveloped his body, his cock growing achingly hard between his knees, and he buried his face into the bedding, muffling the whines of pleasure as he lost himself to the burgeoning ecstasy of Neuvillette’s dedicated attention.

            A second thumb nudged at his slick rim, slipping in on the opposite side; the additional stretch made him keen, teeth clamping down on the plush fabric before him. His eyes watered at the slight burn of it, even as he pressed back, desperate to feel more, to get that tongue deeper – to be so full of dragon cock that he might taste his lover at the back of his throat. It was, he knew, somewhere in the long-banished rational part of his brain, a silly and impossible concept, but one that made him whine all the same with how badly he wanted it.

            “Fuck – sweetheart, I’m good – hn!” Wriothesley cried out as the tip of Neuvillette’s tongue thrust directly into his already sensitive prostate, bullying it relentlessly, even as his lover’s thumbs worked in tandem to stretch him wider. His tail lashed, ears pinned back in pleasure as he lost sight of anything that wasn’t the sensation of Neuvillette toying with him or the texture of fine silk on his tongue as he moaned into the pillow.

            At his entreaty, Neuvillette pulled away, his tongue sliding out of Wriothesley with a wet sound. As he rose, he deposited soft kisses along the wolf-shifter’s spine, hands meandering along waist and hips. “You’re muffling yourself, beloved,” he chided gently, claws trailing up the arch of Wriothesley’s spine to tangle in the sweaty strands of the other man’s hair.

            “C-can’t help it,” Wriothesley gasped, releasing the pillow from between his teeth. “Need something to bite when you’re tonguefucking me that good.” He had barely caught his breath before he was hauled upwards and carefully maneuvered onto his knees, slumped and supported against the dragon-shifter’s chest.

            “Hm,” Neuvillette mused, smoothing his hands down along Wriothesley’s thighs, claws tracing idly over scars without providing any friction or relief. “I suppose I should gag you the next time I do that – give you something you can properly bite down on that won’t muffle your pretty moans?” Warm and slightly wet lips traced one of Wriothesley’s ears, clamping down on the soft appendage to tug on it teasingly where it was folded back in submission.

Wriothesley thought back to his rut, to the muzzle they’d used, with the leather strap that went between his teeth, and swallowed heavily.

            “Yeah… yeah, we should,” he agreed enthusiastically, breathless as he sank into his lover’s embrace, pressing his hips back in impatient encouragement. “Later, though. Right now, I want you inside me – and to bite me like you mean it.” Lithe, strong arms snaked around his waist as Neuvillette clasped Wriothesley against him. One hand crept up the wolf-shifter’s chest, over his Cerberus tattoo and then to the front of his throat. Elegant fingers settled just under his jaw, cradling his face but not squeezing down.

            “Oh, beloved,” Neuvillette sighed, and Wriothesley knew, though he couldn’t see his lover’s face, that the other man was smiling fondly, “I have waited and wanted to make you mine for what feels like an eternity.” Lips trailed along the wolf-shifter’s shoulder, cool and soothing as they traveled to worry the skin right over the nape of Wriothesley’s neck. “There is no other choice for me, in all the wide expanse of the universe – for none compare to you, my Wriothesley.”

            The tip of Neuvillette’s larger cock, slick with Hydro, kissed Wriothesley’s entrance as the dragon-shifter aligned their hips. He nuzzled his lover’s cheek, one hand clamped firmly around Wriothesley’s waist to steady him as, with a slow, tortuous roll of his hips, he buried himself to the hilt.

            Wriothesley let his head fall back against Neuvillette’s shoulder, groaning at the fullness, the delicious stretch of just the one cock as he settled, knowing full well it was only half of what was to come. Neuvillette’s sweet words burned inside his chest, setting his pulse to rabbiting in anticipation or pleasure or perhaps both as he clutched desperately behind him at his partner, his lover, his –

            “Mate me,” he growled, voice tinged with desperate need as his hips rolled, trying to fuck himself deeper onto Neuvillette’s cock.

            “I will,” Neuvillette returned, running a soothing hand along his side. “Patience, beloved.” Wriothesley whimpered, but allowed himself to be guided back up to kneeling. He nearly keened as he was lifted off of Neuvillette’s length entirely, bereft at being left empty, but the loss was only momentary; as Neuvillette guided him back down again, the wolf-shifter gave a choked-off cry as the second of his lover’s cocks eased in beside the first.

            It was a lot – Wriothesley knew it always was, at first, and the stretch of taking both cocks at once winded him instantly, his focus narrowing only to the sensation of being split open to a truly obscene degree and the pure friction against his prostate. Neuvillette rubbed soothingly at his hip with his thumb, easing into him at a snail’s pace. Each ridge of his cocks popped into Wriothesley with every incremental press of his lengths, driving the wolf-shifter just a little more insane each time they caught on his rim.

            “Shit, you’re so thick –” Wriothesley gasped, thighs spreading wider over Neuvillette’s lap as he sank onto the girth spearing him open. It was simultaneous relief and torture when, in response, Neuvillette finally, properly moved, giving a first, experimental thrust of his hips. “Yes! Just like that, sweetheart,” Wriothesley whined in a broken whimper against his mate’s ear, clawed hands clutching at the arms holding him upright as he began to grind down in earnest, taking Neuvillette deeper each time until they both gasped as the dragon-shifter bottomed out inside of him, his hips meeting Wriothesley’s ass with a distinct slap.

            “You feel divine around my cocks,” Neuvillette purred, nuzzling into Wriothesley’s neck, his thumb petting along the line of the wolf-shifter’s jaw, where he still loosely cradled his lover’s throat.

            “Feels so good… Fuck, you’re so good to me.” Wriothesley was nearly incoherent in his pleasure, his mind going delightfully fuzzy as his focus narrowed to the sensations ricocheting along his body and the warmth of the man holding him close.

            The first real thrust hit him like a train, robbing him of his ability to think entirely and punching the air from his lungs as Neuvillette pulled halfway out only to snap his hips forward, colliding with a loud slap into the meat of Wriothesley’s ass. It was a blessing in disguise that Neuvillette didn’t set a punishing pace, instead taking his time as he fucked into the wolf-shifter. Wriothesley melted against him, trembling with every deep press; with each, Neuvillette pulled out just a little more, until, when he slid home, the entirety of both lengths carved through Wriothesley with a slick, hot slide that left him whining and panting for more.

            He was made vaguely aware of the drool dripping down his face when Neuvillette’s tongue lapped at his chin, licking it clean. That, however, only encouraged Wriothesley to arch his back and tip his head beseechingly to the side, lips parted in invitation that his mate did not refuse. Their lips collided sloppily, Wriothesley’s mouth hanging open in a wordless, guttural moan each time Neuvillette thrust deep inside him, the sound stifled only as that sinuous tongue pressed in to tease the back of his throat.

            It was overwhelming bliss, and Wriothesley was so grateful they’d moved to the bed as his thighs began to shake with the effort of keeping himself upright over Neuvillette’s lap. As entwined as they were, Neuvillette quickly noticed the trembling, stilling deep inside. Pressing a gentle kiss to Wriothesley’s cheek, he lowered them to the mattress. He snaked an arm around the wolf-shifter’s hips to angle him up, allowing his lover to melt into the bed beneath him, kissing and nuzzling at whatever bits of skin he could reach. Only when Wriothesley began grinding back on him, needy and impatient, did Neuvillette resume his previous pace, each slap of skin meeting skin punching delighted noises out of Wriothesley.

            The dragon-shifter yanked Wriothesley’s hips higher to meet his own with each powerful thrust, pressing their bodies flush as he covered his mate. His tail lashed against the sheets, Wriothesley just barely making out the sound of its movement before he felt it twine around one of his legs, pulling his thighs further apart so Neuvillette could push even deeper inside. A cry spilled from his mouth, sheer bliss manifested as sound.

            Lips caressed the fur of his ears, murmuring a litany of praise that Wriothesley could only take as gospel, the twining of their bodies sacred scripture recited reverently as wanton moaning inside the church that was their bed.

            “You’re so good for me, Wriothesley – perfect in your pleasure. You’re going to cum for me, and I’m going to make you mine forever. My mate, my beloved treasure.” Each word sank into Wriothesley’s bones as he trembled, the punch of Neuvillette’s cocks deep inside him winding the overwhelming heat in his groin to nearly unbearable heights.

            “Yes!” He practically sobbed the affirmation, claws digging into the bedsheets below as he teetered on the edge of oblivion. His cock throbbed where it rubbed against the comforter, ruthlessly shoved against the sheets with every thrust of Neuvillette’s hips. “Please… Love you so much –”

            Neuvillette’s free hand reached up to capture one of his, pinning it to the bed as their fingers laced together sweetly. Lips whispered across the back of his neck, and Wriothesley tilted his head forward to bare the expanse of it. The threat of teeth at his nape sent him tumbling over the edge with a sobbing cry as Neuvillette’s hips picked up speed, fucking into him passionately. His vision whited out as he came, spilling over the sheets as he shook apart from head to toe, heedless of the sharp sting as Neuvillette clamped his jaws down harshly.

            Euphoria akin to a second orgasm crashed over Wriothesley as sharp fangs punctured skin, a high whine leaving him as he clung to the hand covering his with a bruising grip. The opening of the bond was unlike anything else he’d ever experienced, a rush of endorphins and sensation and scent that fogged his brain and turned him into wolf-shaped putty upon the bed. His tail curled tightly, brushing both their torsos as the furry tip twitched erratically, and his walls clenched and spasmed around the cocks inside of him.

            It took Wriothesley longer than he wanted to admit for his mind to return from its blissful vacation, putting himself back together one piece at a time. He realized sluggishly that Neuvillette had stopped moving, focused instead on licking tenderly at the back of his neck, cleaning the bite he’d just left there. It throbbed, a pleasant ache that he felt as a faint echo in the thud of his heart. Warmth spread over him at the realization, tears springing to his eyes as he was quickly overwhelmed with impressions and feelings he couldn’t quite put a name to yet.

            “Wriothesley?” Neuvillette nudged his temple, pressing tender kisses along his skin. The wolf-shifter smelled the distinct spike of concern in the air, and he tried lethargically to make either his heavy limbs or his leaden tongue work in an attempt to soothe his mate. The most he managed was to clutch the hand in his grasp just a bit tighter, and to give a rumbling, contented growl to reassure Neuvillette that he was, in fact, doing wonderfully – better, in fact, than he could have ever hoped to explain with something as feeble as words.

            The dragon-shifter purred back, the deep sound reverberating between them as Neuvillette pressed close once more. Warmth surrounded them, so much so that Wriothesley couldn’t help but to tear up, savoring the wealth of love he could feel through their mingling scents and the new bond.

            It struck him, suddenly, that Neuvillette probably couldn’t feel it, not yet, and he tried harder to pull himself together, eager to complete the ritual so his mate could relish the same abundance of adoration and tender affection he now luxuriated in.

            “Neuvillette,” he rasped, shifting his hips as he tried to roll them over.

            “Yes, beloved?”

            “Help me… flip over.” He grunted out the request, and found himself immediately free of his mate’s weight as Neuvillette lifted off him, his cocks sliding out as he did, much to Wriothesley’s irrational dismay.

            The wolf-shifter rolled onto his back, hands instantly reaching for Neuvillette as he tugged his lover back to him, parting his thighs to invite him home and giving a small, pleased growl when the man readily obliged. A tender hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing away stray tears of pleasure as Neuvillette peered down at him with unadulterated affection, a tentative smile playing at his lips.

            “How do you feel?”

            “Fucking amazing – but I’ll be even better once we’re both marked.” He kissed imploringly at Neuvillette’s jaw, wanting to practically drown the other man in affection. “I want to give you yours,” he whispered the soft plea into Neuvillette’s ear, nuzzling close. “Get back inside me.” It was all but a demand; impatient, he reached down to grasp both of Neuvillette’s lengths. The dragon-shifter quickly batted his lethargic hand away with a shuddering exhale that had Wriothesley smiling and rolling his hips upward, spurring his lover on. Clawed hands grasped his thighs, pressing his knees towards his shoulders; Wriothesley’s arms wound up and around his mate’s neck, fingers burying into the silken hair at the back of his head to draw him closer.

            In one steady thrust, Neuvillette lined his lengths up and sank back inside of him. Wriothesley’s brow furrowed briefly with discomfort at being filled again so suddenly, overstimulation racing across his tender nerves, but he pushed past it, focusing instead on the burst of comingled desire and relief he felt through the bond. It eased the overbright sensations, tipping him quickly into muted pleasure as Neuvillette began to move in him once more, setting a faster, shallower pace as he bent Wriothesley near in half.

            “That’s it, sweetheart, take me. Fill me with your cum.” Wriothesley sighed the words, nuzzling against the side of Neuvillette’s throat where his scent lingered the strongest, instinct guiding him as he licked over that sweet, enticing spot where neck met shoulder.

            Neuvillette groaned heartily as Wriothesley nibbled on the skin where the mark would go, his pace becoming erratic as he chased his end, pleasure cresting dully across the bond; Wriothesley echoed his moans as he clutched the dragon-shifter closer, watching the bliss play out across Neuvillette’s expression, illuminated in the dark room by the brightening light thrown off by his rhinophores as he neared his orgasm.

            “Wriothesley, beloved, mate,” Neuvillette snarled, directly into his ear, sending shivers down Wriothesley’s spine as the dragon-shifter fucked into him with passion to spare. Wriothesley gasped, holding his mate’s head steady as he felt his lover crest over the edge of his climax. He gave the spot below his mouth a single, languid lick, tasting that sweet sea salt caramel on his tongue, before he sank his teeth into the skin bared for him, just as Neuvillette slammed his cocks home, spilling deep inside with a growling sigh of Wriothesley’s name, exhaled reverently like a benediction.

            The taste of iron blossomed across Wriothesley’s tongue as blood filled his mouth. The wolf-shifter clamped sharp canines down to ensure the bite was deep enough, waiting until he heard a fierce snarl above him before pressing his tongue to the wound’s edges. He nearly lost his grip as Neuvillette gave another hearty thrust into him, spilling yet more release into his slick hole.

            It was a miracle that Wriothesley managed to focus, guided more by instincts than his working mind as he moaned against Neuvillette’s throat. Finally, though, he felt something snap into crystalline clarity in his mind. Simultaneously, he sensed, more than heard, Neuvillette gasp, clawed hands clutching at him in a full-body attempt to keep them close together.

            Slowly, Wriothesley released the bite, immediately licking over the raw, circular wound to clean it. He eased his grip on Neuvillette’s head, carding fingers through slightly tangled silver strands as his lover shook, near imperceptibly, above him. Wriothesley wrapped him up in his arms, nuzzling his cheek, wordlessly urging Neuvillette to relax against him until it took and the dragon-shifter melted, tension slowly bleeding out of him until he was nothing but a puddle.

            They laid together, naked, sweaty, and tangled into an impossible knot, as Wriothesley ran his fingers soothingly along Neuvillette’s scalp, matching the ferocity of the dragon-shifter’s purring with low grumbles of his own as soon as his mate started up again. Strong but lean arms cradled Wriothesley in turn as Neuvillette nuzzled him, inhaling deeply, listening as the rhythm of their hearts synced up. The bond resonated between them, a feedback loop of contented joy, satisfaction, and the warmth of reciprocal love, all of it settling with a finality that felt more than good. It felt right.

            Finally

            The sentiment reverberated across the connection, and their eyes met as Neuvillette lifted his head just enough to peer at Wriothesley’s face. A single heartbeat of silence passed between them before the gravity of the moment cracked, a large grin eating up the majority of Wriothesley’s face and Neuvillette fighting a similarly wide smile as best he could. The joy spilled over quickly into laughter as Wriothesley used his heels as leverage to roll them over, Neuvillette’s softening lengths slipping out of him as he ended up hovering over his dragon.

            “I love you,” Wriothesley announced, between uncontainable fits of elated laughter, his eyes once more smarting with the threat of euphoric tears.

            “And I, you, my beloved treasure.” Neuvillette reached up to cup his cheeks with both hands, thumbs stroking along cheekbones to catch any errant droplets. The dragon-shifter looked up at him in wonder, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing – that they were here, now, in this moment. After all they had been through, Wriothesley couldn’t, either.

            His ears twitched at the attention, his tail swatting the bed as it began to wag in furious delight. “Hm… what if we took more than four days off?” He drawled the suggestion with his smarmiest grin, bracing one hand above Neuvillette’s head as he dipped down to brush their noses, inhaling their combined aromas. Succumbing to instinct, he scented along his mate’s jaw, down to his neck, where the fresh bite sat swollen and bright red. “I can already tell that little time isn’t gonna be enough.”

            “Greedy little thing, aren’t you,” Neuvillette replied with a chuckle, the sound warming Wriothesley inside and out.

            “Little? We’re practically the same height! Who are you calling little? Why I oughta –” he protested indignantly, teeth grazing along the dragon-shifter’s ear in playful retribution. Neuvillette only laughed harder, the sound billowing up from deep in his chest as he rolled them onto their sides, dragging Wriothesley closer by the thigh.

            “Not when I’m a dragon we’re not,” Neuvillette asserted with an unapologetic smirk.

            “If you referred to me as little in my wolf form, your credibility as a reliable source of information would immediately be tarnished,” Wriothesley scoffed, trailing down to nip at his mate’s bottom lip.

            “That is true. I suppose it boils down to perspective.” Neuvillette shrugged, donning that professional nonchalance that Wriothesley had always loved.

            “Not all of us can be stunning, building-sized dragons in our free time, Neuvillette.” Wriothesley laughed, smoothing his hand along the scales of the other man’s dragon tattoo, following the path of it up onto his lover’s neck and down behind his shoulder.

            “No, you’re only a handsome, building-sized ice wolf – one that is both cunning and strong.”

            The heavy praise was followed with a sweet kiss that melted Wriothesley in place. He was weak, incredibly weak, to everything Neuvillette, too besotted with the man to resist the draw of their lips to one another. One turned to two, and two to three to seven to ten, before they forwent counting entirely in the name of once again sharing lazy kisses and enjoying the togetherness of the moment, touching casually for the sake of feeling each other in the same space. It very well could have continued for much longer had Wriothesley not become painfully aware of the spend drying on his inner thighs and chest, growing itchy and unpleasant the longer it sat.

            “Shall we shower?” Neuvillette suggested, picking up on his mate’s discomfort. Wriothesley agreed enthusiastically, taking the opportunity to push into the dragon-shifter’s space, whispering in Neuvillette’s ear an outline, in explicit detail, of exactly how his mate could help clean him off.

            They made it from bed to shower in record time after that, Wriothesley’s marked up thighs clamped tightly around Neuvillette’s waist, his back pressed flush to the marble shower wall as they collided in a hungry kiss, easily lost once more in one another. The world ceased to exist as they explored the depth of their new bond, adrift from reality but tethered securely to one another by passionate moans, tender caresses, and gentle laughter.

            Four days was absolutely not going to be enough time, but maybe, just maybe, they could be selfish and request a little more. Meropide was in more than capable hands while Wriothesley was away, finally standing tall on its own despite circumstances that had tried to drag it deep beneath the waves. The Oratrice, without the imminent threat of the Fatui looming above them, would run as usual, even without being able to get in contact with Monsieur Neuvillette for every little happening that needed his approval.

            Maybe, just maybe, Wriothesley and Neuvillette could have a full week.

            And if not – well. They had the rest of eternity, didn’t they?

            The sun would set, and the moon would change its phase; of these facts, Wriothesley was certain.

            He was just as certain, now, that Meropide would stand strong, that Sigewinne would return to them, a fully licensed doctor, a laugh on her lips and a milkshake in hand, that Neuvillette trusted and loved him – without hesitation, without condition – and that the City of Fontaine still looked prettiest in the rain, its melancholic streets brightened by myriad lampposts and windows dotting the street like a plethora of tiny stars, a cosmos of vibrant life reflected amongst the haphazard puddles and raindrops.

            More than anything, though, Wriothesley was certain that, at last, he was home.