Things get hot and heavy after a spar when Wriothesley sucks the soul out of Neuvillette's dick.

CW: Contains Smut

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Wriothesley's jaw stings. "Ow," he mutters, rubbing at it.

Neuvillette packs a hard punch and doesn't hide the smirk that's plastered across his face. "Did you think I would go easy?"

"I said grappling, not clocking me across the face."

Neuvillette's gaze cools. "Apologies. You walked into my fist."

A tease. A damned tease. Wriothesley doesn't need to look at his face to know that he'll find a smirk.

But he does. Look. He can't help it, hopelessly tethered to Neuvillette like a moored ship at port. And Wriothesley is right; Neuvillette's mouth is tilted upwards on one side, the tiniest crack in his usually composed demeanor.

Wriothesley is more aware of it now. Or maybe those moments have always been there, gone unnoticed. Only him. He's the only one who drags these pieces of Neuvillette to the surface. Wriothesley had thought his interest was initially unrequited but Neuvillette was too quick to respond. Now it is clearer, like looking through a pool of still water, Neuvillette on the other end. That smirk, the tilt to his mouth, the way that he purrs when he presses close, how Neuvillette loves his scent.

How he's dressed down in the ring, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to the elbow, and his hair tied up in a messy tail, bangs hanging in his face. Neuvillette would never be so uncomposed around others, but with Wriothesley—

Well. Wriothesley is different. And he knows that; they both know that.

"I was under the impression that I was here to indulge your request for a spar." Neuvillette's voice cuts through Wriothesley's thoughts, tugging him back. Wriothesley blinks, watching Neuvillette tug at his sleeve, re-rolling the cuff until he's satisfied.

The collar is undone, showing off a smooth strip of sternum. Wriothesley's eyes linger on the edge of Neuvillette's collar bone and fuck, his cock aches, half-hard and trapped in his trousers. Neuvillette, at least, does him the courtesy of ignoring it.

Mostly.

"Distracted?"

"Thinking," mutters Wriothesley. "I didn't think you'd pack a good punch."

Neuvillette's brow raises. "No?"

"You're no brawler."

"But I am not unpracticed, nor untrained. Wriothesley, you should know that there is more to me than meets the eye."

Oh, doesn't he? It's why Wriothesley was enthralled from the get-go. And yes, it was a slow crawl to action. He spent an embarrassingly long time just watching and observing from afar. Even now, Wriothesley considers him, marking every movement, every action and reaction, because this is something they've never done.

"Do you truly need a plan of action?" asks Neuvillette.

"I don't need anything but brute force, Sweetheart."

Neuvillette's gaze narrows. He huffs, annoyed, but he's coming around to the nickname.

It's late into the night. The Fortress is quiet, everyone but certain guards asleep, and those awake won't bother them here. Wriothesley steps around the edge of the Pankration Ring and Neuvillette mirrors him, head tilted to the side, hyper-aware.

Wriothesley smells the interest rolls off of Neuvillette. Rarely does he give in to his more feral side, but Wriothesley's chest swells with pride as the reason. It feeds his alpha. His instincts want to pick a fight, and who better than this man? Neuvillette will indulge, and he'll do so in a way that leads to a happy ending for them both.

"Grappling," Wriothesley reminds him right before throwing himself across the space.

They meet in the middle, arms against biceps, claws digging into soft flesh. Wriothesley grunts, surprised by the dead weight of Neuvillette's body. He's heavy—has he always been this heavy? Wriothesley thinks of all the times he's hoisted him against the wall.

Neuvillette tilts him easily, Wriothesley distracted. But he catches himself, twisting until they lock arms again. They push and pull each other, bare-soled feet digging into the worn floor. It's always push and pull, back and forth.

Wriothesley's alpha flares and he snarls, a sharp noise that cuts through the space. He gains the upper hand in a momentary burst of momentum. Wriothesley spins, tugging at Neuvillette, trying to force him over. Neuvillette's foot slips and he staggers but he's just as quick, and seconds later they are face-to-face, arms locked together once again.

"Cute," murmurs Neuvillette. He ducks close, pressing his nose against Wriothesley's temple, inhaling.

Annoying. Gods, it's annoying, but Wriothesley leans into it despite the sourness that bleeds through his chest. "Hey, take this seriously—"

"If I took this seriously, you'd be on the ground."

Wriothesley's tongue traces his lips, thinking about it. Spread out underneath Neuvillette. At his mercy. But then his alpha rears and Wriothesley finds his resolve. Always caught in the middle, torn between giving in or proving his dominance.

He drops and shoves his shoulder against Neuvillette's chest, throwing all of his weight behind the hit. Neuvillette staggers, losing his grip. Then his foot slips. Wriothesley takes his chance and tries to topple him. Arms around Neuvillette's waist, one hand locked around his wrist as Wriothesley braces himself. With a grunt, he throws.

They both go down, the impact hard. Wriothesley doesn't stop, quick to react, climbing over Neuvillette's waist to pin him there. "Just like that," he says, triumphant, fingers curled around Neuvillette's wrists with a tight grasp. "Be good for me."

Neuvillette's nostrils flare and for a second everything is tense. Wriothesley holds him firm but hesitates. Wary, head tilted to the side as he watches for any sign that Neuvillette may lash out. And fuck, he wants to do more. Wriothesley's alpha roars at the sight of him below, at how Neuvillette went down, easily overpowered. Triumphant. Wriothesley's blood surges as satisfaction rolls through his veins.

"Sweetheart—"

Wriothesley is thrown to the side the moment the word slips from his mouth, Neuvillette pinning him with the entirety of his weight. Everything comes to a standstill. "Heel," murmurs Neuvillette slowly, his voice dark and commanding.

He so rarely gives into his instincts. Of the two of them, Neuvillette is calm and collected. Older. More practiced in holding himself back. Wriothesley is the young and wily one, more likely to nip at fingers. This isn't like Neuvillette's rut, or those days when the caseload is bad and he has to uphold justice which he doesn't necessarily agree with—this is him letting that old dragon come forth and fly free. Neuvillette looks pleased, chest rumbling as he drags a hand down Wriothesley's chest, taking in the sight of him, the feel of him.

The word sounds strange on Neuvillette's tongue instead of his own. Wriothesley's cock hurts, it aches so bad. He whines in both annoyance and arousal, teeth gnashing as he tries not to snap back.

Neuvillette's hand flashes, catching his chin in a bone-smarting grip. "So you won't, then?"

It takes every in Wriothesley to not roll his hips against him, to grind his cock against his ass. To headbutt him, to sink his teeth into the meat of Neuvillette's neck, unwilling to let go. The two sides of his brain war, caught between his want and need, and his alpha that begs to fight back.

"Three rounds," he finally grits out.

Neuvillette's gaze is sharp as he hangs over him, face framed by errant strands of his bangs. "Pardon?"

"You get three rounds in the ring. The best score wins."

"So we're keeping score, then?"

Wriothesley's throat is dry. He can barely get words out. His alpha begs him to flip them over and fuck Neuvillette into the ground. Or the opposite, Neuvillette's hands sweeping down his sides as he's fucked full. Either or. It's always either or for him. "If you want a proper spar, yeah."

Neuvillette plays with the opening of Wriothesley's collar, his fingers dipping in to tease the skin there. Then he pulls off, standing as he brushes off his trousers. Wriothesley accepts his help up, thighs trembling as he tries to find his footing. The touch lingers, Neuvillette's thumb dragging over the pulse of Wriothesley's wrist, making his heart skip a beat.

This is no longer a proper spar. They reset on opposite ends of the ring, stalking each other in a circle. Teasing. Predatory. Want washes through Wriothesley as his gaze trails from Neuvillette's face down to his obvious erection.

Wriothesley moves first again. When he grapples at Neuvillette they shuffle backwards. Everything is uncoordinated. Nothing is about the fight anymore, they just want to get their hands on each other.

Neuvillette's back hits the corner post and his hands drop to Wriothesley's hips, dragging him close until their cocks grind together. Wriothesley leans in, pressing his face against his neck. He smells divine; like the ocean and salt brine spiced with arousal. Heady. Wriothesley's fangs drag over Neuvillette's pulse. He licks at it, tracing the artery. It surges underneath his lips as he mouths at it, and Neuvillette lets out a groan.

Not a warning growl. His head tips back as lets Wriothesley in. The grip on Wriothesey's hips though is tight and bone-breaking. One little squeeze and Wriothesley would be on the floor. The danger of it spurs him on. Wriothesley's hand finds the back of his neck, fingers curling into the base of his hair where it's tied up. He pulls Neuvillette's mouth to his for a hungry, searing kiss.

It's a biting thing. Neuvillette grabs at his chin again, holding it there as he devours Wriothesley's mouth. "Beloved," he hisses against his mouth, a teasing quip that lacks its usual softness. He pulls back just enough to drag his thumb the length of Wriothesley's bottom lip. "Are you forfeiting this round?"

"Do you think you've won?" Wriothesley reaches down and palms at the hard ridge of Neuvillette's cock through his trousers. "Quick to rise, hm?"

"Takes one to know one," is Neuvillette's scathing retort, and oh— Wriothesley doesn't think he's ever mocked him in such a way. Part of him loves it, wants to drag more of it from his lips, but the other part—

Wriothesley growls softly, a gentle rumble that gets caught in his throat. A warning. He doesn't like the triumphant look on Neuvillette's face, or the way that he regards him like he's a snack to swallow up. Pleasure, though, is thick in Wriothesley's veins, and even if his instincts fight it, his brain doesn't. It's hot, too fucking hot.

He undoes Neuvillette's trousers with deft fingers. "Am I really losing, here?" he asks as he throws away any victory he may have had and sinks to his knees.

Neuvillette watches him with a gray, piercing gaze. The show of submission ruffles him. His breaths come a little quicker, and his alpha must preen underneath his skin. Wriothesley would know the feeling of smug satisfaction. The smell of it leaks from Neuvillette's pores as he forgets to compose himself.

Still. He isn't entirely gone. He pets Wriothesley's hair and says, "It was a tease. Asking you to heel for me."

"It shouldn't be." Wriothesley frees his cock from the confines of his trousers and licks from the base to the tip. A sharp gasp tumbles from Neuvillette's mouth as he leans against the ring post. Wriothesley laughs, nipping at the soft skin of his length before letting his teeth ghost along it. "Think of how often I ask it of you." He gives Neuvillette's cock a quick stroke of his hand. "Did you like it?"

"I—" Oh, he's distracted. Caught up in the pleasure. Neuvillette's thighs tremble as Wriothesley teases the tip of his cock with a kitten lick. "What?"

"Getting all hot and bothered. You're so composed, even when we..." Wriothesley thumbs over the head, spreading the precome that dribbles from the slit. He wants to taste, to have Neuvillette's cock heavy on his tongue. To take him deep until he's choking and full of nothing but him. "I like it. Seeing you like this. Aggressive—"

"Passionate," corrects Neuvillette. Of course, he'd refute such a debased description. His cheeks are flushed pink, though, and his gaze is sharp. Greedy. Voracious, even. Claws scrape across Wriothesley's scalp as Neuvillette pretends that the threads of his facade aren't being unraveled.

Wriothesley shoots him a devilish smirk and then swallows his cock right to the root.

The grip on his hair tightens until his scalp stings. Neuvillette groans, his head tilted back, hips thrusting forward to meet Wriothesley's lips. Wriothesley moans and makes a show of it. His tongue slides against the underside as he sinks back to suckle the tip. "Sweetheart—"

"Don't."

Wriothesley laughs, forever entertained by Nevillette's mild aggravation for the pet name. "Fuck my mouth."

"Wriothesley—"

"You said it, didn't you? I forfeited the second round." He swirls his tongue around the crown of Neuvillette's cock, sighing at the taste. "Take your prize and give in."

When he looks up, Neuvillette looks wild, feral even, his hair a mess, his fangs on display. His scent chokes the room and instead of turning away, Wriothesley sinks closer, nuzzling his groin, soaking it up the same way an omega would. Then, like an alpha, he bites at it, a little too sharp, teeth sinking into the muscle underneath Neuvillette's navel.

Neuvillette yanks his face back. Delightful. Wriothesley loves this sort of play. They teeter at the edge of each other—but there is no fear, even when they mark each other up. It's expected. Neuvillette will not harm him. Wriothesley's alpha is eager to please, eager to chase him straight into pleasure.

"You're hard." Neuvillette's foot settles against his aching erection, pressing down hard enough that Wriothesley is thankful he's barefoot.

"As if I wouldn't be. Have you seen yourself? Smelled yourself? Fuck, Neuvillette, I'm gone here."

Neuvillette hums as he presses his thumb between Wriothesley's swollen lips. "I am too," he confesses. "Gods, you look—" He doesn't finish the thought, guiding Wriothesley's mouth back to his cock.

This time, he pulls Wriothesley onto his cock. Wriothesley moans as he sinks his cock deep. Forces himself to breathe through his nose when the tip bullies the back of his throat. A broken sound. The roll of his hips against Neuvillette's foot.

"Like that," says Neuvillette, brushing his bangs back. "What a good boy for me." He pulls back until his cock is half-lodged in Wriothesley's mouth before giving an experimental thrust. It's a little dangerous—Wriothesley holds himself open and wide, but there are fangs to consider, and even he could lash out unintended, as much as he wants.

But Neuvillette seems unconcerned. He reads him well. Smells his arousal. "Perfect," he praises as he fucks into his mouth, this time with more force.

The breath is punched from Wriothesley's throat. This is far from the first time he's sucked Neuvillette off but coaxing him into something rougher without him being at the opposite end has always seemed impossible. And it isn't that he dislikes it—Neuvillette responds so keenly when it's Wriothesley fucking him instead.

Wriothesley just didn't know it'd take wrestling to pull forward those older, baser instincts. He tucks the knowledge away for later use.

His chest burns. He moans, tears leaking at the corners of his eyes as Neuvillette's thrusts take a sharper edge. "Fuck," curses Neuvillette, and Wriothesley wishes he could press it to vinyl. It'd have a permanent home on his phonograph and he'd fuck his hand to it time and time again. "Wriothesley."

Wriothesley's cock is so stiff it's painful. He ruts against Neuvillette's foot, groaning as he chases friction. Drool drips from his mouth. Neuvillette won't stop staring, those ice-gray eyes full of heat.

Worth it. Every moment of this is worth it; the tamping down on his alpha, the submitting to another. The pleasure that coils on Wriothesley's gut is so close to snapping. Neuvillette's grip shifts, fingers splayed against the back of his head. His thrusts slow but fuck deep, forcing Wriothesley to choke around him.

There is a signal he can use; two taps against his thigh. Wriothesley doesn't, preferring to drown in the taste of him instead, the smell of unfettered alpha clinging to his nostrils.

Wriothesley comes first with a choked-off moan, spilling in his trousers as he grinds against Neuvillette's foot. He must look a mess. Neuvillette's gaze is wild thing. He hisses Wriothesley's name. His cock twitches, lodged in Wriothesley's mouth. "I'm—Wriothesley."

He'd pay money to hear Neuvillette say his name like that just once more. Neuvillette curses as he fucks his mouth several more times. His thighs tense underneath Wriothesley's fingers as he hurtles toward the edge. So close they can both taste it. His cock swells as Neuvillette nears his peak—

And then Neuvillette shoves Wriothesley off of his cock.

"What are you—"

Neuvillette cries out as he fucks his hand for the last several strokes and comes all over Wriothesley's face in thick, heavy ropes of his spend. Wriothesley blinks, stunned. Then he yanks off his shirt and wipes away the mess before tossing it aside, too concerned to make a show of swallowing it down as he'd prefer.

Confusion. Wriothesley is very confused, particularly by the sudden change in Neuvillette's behavior. The acrid scent of shame fills the air. Neuvillette's expression isn't one of panic, but rather extreme embarrassment. He squeezes the base of his cock in a white-knuckled grip.

Oh. Oh. Like a switch that's been flipped, Wriothesley cuts the teasing and turns sweet. He pulls at Neuvillette's hand, trying to pry it away from his knot. "Let me see."

"Wriothesley, I'm—"

"Don't apologize."

"I could've hurt you."

"Would've been an accident and nothing I couldn't handle." Wriothesley manages to peel away Neuvillette's fingers. "Besides," he continues, leaning forward to nuzzle heated and sweaty skin. "I'm incredibly flattered. I've never had another alpha pop their knot for me."

Neuvillette groans, mortified. This too, Wriothesley enjoys. He's seen so many different sides of him tonight and wants to etch every single one into his brain. He kisses the bulge of Neuvillette's knot, tongue tracing it. "Remember your rut? The unexpected one? Did you—"

"Yes."

The honest answer comes as a surprise. Wriothesley smiles against Neuvillette's cock, kissing the swell at its base sweetly. "Consider this alpha pleased."

"You don't have to tend to it."

"Let me." Wriothesley curls his fingers around the knot and squeezes, delighting in the way that Neuvillette groans. "Next time, though, let's not waste it, okay?"

"Don't tease me—"

"I'm not teasing." And Wriothesley isn't. He isn't the type to knot so easily either but there's always the delicious thought of it lingering in his brain. But Neuvillette—he was so hot and horny, so wound-tight, so trusting, that he couldn't stop himself. Wriothesley absolutely wants to be stuffed full of it. Another time. They'll work out the details.

For now, he just mimics the grip that soothes the aftermath of it all. Neuvillette breathes heavily as he watches him back. Wriothesley grins and kisses the bulge again, dragging another moan from the back of Neuvillette's throat. "How long for you, typically?"

"It'll—just keep... doing that. It'll ease off."

Wriothesley almost wishes it were more romantic but he can't complain, especially when the result is Neuvillette all flustered and red-faced.

"Next time, though, a bed at least." One tease. Wriothesley allows himself one little tease.

"Wriothesley."

"Preferable locked inside me—"

"Wriothesley." Neuvillette's cock jerks, twitching again. Still half-hard with a raging knot.

And Wriothesley knows Neuvillette's refractory period is short. He plays nice instead. "Sleep," he promises. "We'll clean up, go bathe, and then sleep."

Neuvillette sighs, still flush with embarrassment. But he pets Wriothesley's hair sweetly, regarding him with warmth. It is then that Wriothesley realizes things have shifted with this. Not that Wriothesley was concerned but this ordeal cements it all.

Wriothesley's chest rumbles, pleased. Neuvillette pets his hair, relaxed and slack. Wriothesley doesn't think he's ever felt so warm and placid.

They're meant to be, he thinks. Secondary genders be damned. Wriothesley just wonders if Neuvillette has noticed it yet.