Wriothesley wakes up on Neuvillette's office couch boxed in by one half-naked Chief of Justice.

CW: Contains Smut

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He doesn't mean to fall asleep on the couch.

Neuvillette had been busy, drowning in paperwork, cases up to his eyeballs, mildly ruffled and nearly frazzled. Uncharacteristically out of sorts. Wriothesley opted to not bother him too much as a result, setting aside his usual flirtation for a sweet kiss against Neuvillette's forehead instead.

"Find a place where you can put a pin in it," he whispered against Neuvillette's skin. "Then take a rest. You'll be burning the midnight oil anyway so there isn't a point in working yourself beyond the bone."

Neuvillette only grunted softly in return but didn't shy away from Wriothesley's touch as he brushed back his bangs.

Then Wriothesley lingered. His work was done for the day and he has the patience of a saint. Piddled around Neuvillette's office, playing with the expensive shit and doing his best to not break anything with his fumbling. Eventually, he settled across the large settee in the corner of the room, a piece of furniture meant specifically for him.

Wriothesley is prone to napping there when he has nowhere else to be. He remembers stripping out of his leathers and waistcoat before sinking into the soft cushions, watching Neuvillette's brow wrinkle as he dozed, cheek cradled in his palm.

When he wakes later, it's slow and sluggish. The room is oppressively hot. There's a lone candle that flickers on Neuvillette's desk. Wriothesley is stuck, caught between the back of the couch and something else. He grunts softly, shifting, his arm bent around a waist.

Neuvillette. Wriothesley chokes on hair, the fresh scent of the ocean tickling his nose as he presses his face against Neuvillette's nape. How long has he been asleep? Long enough for Neuvillette to get tired and curl against him on the couch.

He is dressed down, having kicked off his coat and trousers, left only in his shirt and underthings. Wriothesley's hand slips underneath the hem, flattening against Neuvillette's stomach. Sleepy circles of his thumb against warm skin. Tangled legs underneath the blanket that Neuvillette must've tugged over them.

Wriothesley sighs, drowning in the smell of him, the feeling of him. This is what he wanted earlier, this tender closeness, Neuvillette pulled against him and attached at the hip. Lazy moments in shared space, cramped on the couch but oh-so-comfortable.

Neuvillette breathes evenly, with each rise and fall of his chest whistling through parted lips. His hair is pulled up into a messy bun, the tail end still long enough to be in the way. Wriothesley hides a smile as he noses at a knob of his spine. He loves this, the domesticity, how Neuvillette is only this way with him.

It had taken coaxing. Trial and error. Even now, Neuvillette is often hot and cold. He is learning—they both are—but Neuvillette has the daunting task of balancing his work and personal matters. He's a little too good at it, something that Wriothesley has had to learn to handle, but—

Well, it's part of loving this man, isn't it? Neuvillette's steadfast nature comes as a con to most but Wriothesley sees it as nothing but something to be enamored by because it makes these softer, quieter moments mean more. No, his office isn't private, but certainly, no one will barge in this late. Wriothesley will take what he can get.

Neuvillette is tired enough to have tugged off half of his clothes with little care. Wriothesley sighs against his neck, smoothing his hand down the length of Neuvillette's thigh, seeing that he's even forgone his sock garters. "You must be exhausted," muses Wriothesley.

A pity. Especially when Neuvillette wriggles slightly in his sleep, ass flush against Wriothesley's half-hard cock. Wriothesley drags knuckles across Neuvillette's skin before settling his hand back underneath his shirt. Searing, hot skin. The blanket is stifling. A damn shame he's still wearing a shirt and trousers. Wriothesley thinks about tucking his cock between soft thighs and slipping back under to doze but another roll of Neuvillette's hips nip that thought in the bud.

"Evil," mutters Wriothesley. "So fucking cruel." Neuvillette's cock stirs at his attention, slipping out of his vent as he dozes and Wriothesley, despite his rugged exterior, still prides himself on being a gentleman.

Still. Neuvillette is the one without most of his clothing, clad only in a loose shirt. A conscious decision. He knows what Wriothesley is like.

He smirks against Neuvillette's neck and drags a finger from that spade-shaped tip of his cock to the base. And then again. Neuvillette's cock twitches in response. A soft, breathy groan as Neuvillette turns his face slightly. His cheek rests against Wriothesley's bicep, pinning his other arm, keeping them slotted together.

Wriothesley curls his hand around Neuvillette's cock until it lies across his palm. One stroke has it filling out to near full hardness. Another has precome leaking from the tip and Neuvillette's eyes fluttering underneath their lids. "Mhmn."

So quiet. A deadly sound. Wriothesley can't help but rut against Neuvillette's ass, desperate for a little friction against his own aching length. The things those noises do to him. He can be good. He can be good—but does he want to be? Neuvillette's cock swells in his hand, eager for his touch. Wriothesley aches for more.

He was patient earlier. Neuvillette curled up on the couch to be closer to him and what's closer than this? Certainly not the first time that Wriothesley has woken him up with a sordid touch. Neuvillette likes it too, enjoys rousing to pleasure with Wriothesley's hand around his cock as he fucks him full.

Wriothesley kisses his neck, suckling the skin there, tasting the ocean, salty brine, and sweat. Fresh, crisp water. Something uniquely him. He licks his hand and strokes Neuvillette's cock faster, spit easing the way. Neuvillette stirs slightly. His hips buck against Wriothesley's palm, unconsciously meeting each slick caress.

The smacking of dry lips. The flutter of his eyes as they part, half-lidded. Wriothesley's cock is trapped against Neuvillette's backside and the way that he seeks it out unconsciously is both delicious and a curse. Wriothesley has to let go of his length to still his hips.

"Okay, so I asked for that," he murmurs, "but cut me some slack here. I kinda just want a lazy thing right now." He grunts, head tipping forward to rest against Neuvillette's nape. He shuffles slightly, just enough to undo his trousers and free his cock. It takes little effort to part Neuvillette's thighs, a hand slipping between warm skin. Wriothesley slots his cock into the tight space there and sighs in relief.

A short, shuddering roll of his hips. Wriothesley holds Neuvillette's cock again, thumb pressed to the tip, smoothing around the leaking precome. Everything is slow and languid. The drag of skin against Wriothesley's dick is enough to take the edge off.

"Hm?" A soft, whimpering sound. "Mhmn—" And then a gasp as his awareness sharpens. "Wriothesley—"

"Let me indulge." Neuvillette moans as he thrusts between his thighs. "I didn't expect to wake up with you in my arms. What a treat, so let me have this?"

"Yes," comes the tired reply. Wriothesley didn't expect rejection but pleasure burns bright as Neuvillette so easily gives in. Half-awake as he is, he still presses back against his cock, and then forward into Wriothesley's hand. A quiet utterance of his name as Neuvillette moves in a dreamy sort of way, alert but still caught in that hazy cloud of sleep. "Yes, please."

"Needy thing." Wriothesley gives Neuvillette's cock one more jerk before grabbing at his ass. "Is this why you left your trousers on the ground?"

"No."

Of course not. Wriothesley knows that it would've been uncomfortable to sleep in his full dress but it's fun to tease. "You even tied your hair up. Is that because I complained the last time? How considerate—"

"Wriothesley."

Oh, the neediness in his tone. Wriothesley pauses, soaking it up. "You must still be half asleep to beg so easily." He paws at Neuvillette's asscheek, spreading it, dragging his thumb across his hole. Too dry. Wriothesley leans forward, his mouth near the pointed tip of Neuvillette's ear. "Sweetheart," he mutters, knowing that Neuvillette is too drowsy to complain about the endearment, "I'll need help."

"...hmnn?"

"You've got to slick yourself."

Neuvillette huffs softly. Suddenly, Wriothesley's fingers are wet with Hydro, as is his hole.

"Thank you," says Wriothesley. He kisses his ear and traces the pucker of Neuvillette's hole, the tip of his thumb sinking in to the first knuckle. No resistance. Soft and loose due to Neuvillette's relaxed disposition. "Perfect." Wriothesley makes quick of the prep, his impatience winning over his desire for a lazy fuck. He replaces his thumb with two fingers that sink all the way in.

His cock aches. Neuvillette is hot around his fingers and he's dying to press his cock in and drown in the heat. They don't often get moments like this; it's usually a quick fuck before they pass out for the night. Late to bed and early to rise. Maybe a little luck that allows one of them to stay over.

Neuvillette fucks back against his hand, slow, stuttering rolls of his hips, instinctual in nature. His cheek is still resting against Wriothesley's bicep, face turned to nuzzle the crook of his elbow. A third finger. Wriothesley can't help it, far too enamored with the way that Neuvillette moves against him, and the soft, punched sounds that trickle from his mouth.

So needy. So good.

"Wound up, aren't you?" teases Wriothesley. "Work has you busy. So little time for this."

"I..." He imagines the way that Neuvillette's nostrils flare as Wriothesley's fingers slide across his prostate. "Fuck," he hisses, back arching, hips angling for better reach.

Oh, he's gone. For him to curse so loosely, so easily. Wriothesley etches this moment into his brain, nose pressed against Neuvillette's nape, mouth whispering dirty, dirty things. For later use. His mental wank bank. Gods, he's desperate.

Neuvillette whines when he pulls his fingers out. Settles when Wriothesley sinks his cock inside with one deep thrust. They both pause, bodies taut and nerves on edge. His cock melts. Wriothesley groans, grinding against Neuvillette's ass, fingers curled around the sharp jut of his hip bone to hold him there.

"Shit, you feel good. You always feel good, but Archons, you—" Wriothesley pulls out until only the tip of his cock remains. He thrusts in again, slow and sweet. His arm locks around Neuvillette's waist, tugging him close. Knees notched into the backs of Neuvillette's. Legs tangled together. Even though it's hot and sticky, even though his clothes are in the way, Wriothesley craves the closeness.

Neuvillette purrs, a soft trilling sound that typically he wouldn't be caught dead making. Only around Wriothesley. Only when they're like this, hopelessly intertwined, melted together after they've carved out space in each other. They need this. Overworked and strung tight. Neuvillette definitely needed this, as evidenced by the way he just climbed onto the couch, not even bothering to whisk them away to his home instead.

Wriothesley fucks him like he wants to crawl inside him and never leave. Neuvillette moans softly, hips angled just so, responding so fucking eagerly. And then a gasp, a sharp grunt of his name. Claws dig into Wriothesley's wrist where it's locked around his waist as Neuvillette awakens fully.

There is no fear. Neuvillette does not and will not lash out, he just moans and moves against him. Wriothesley's teeth drag over the line of his shoulder. He curses the shirt that's in the way. Neuvillette's nails are like pinpricks against the back of his hand, delicious in how they sting, grounding him to the earth.

They move together like water, like the tide. Neuvillette fucks back against him, forcing each thrust deep into his ass. His grip on Wriothesley's wrist has the bone smarting, and he yanks a little too hard, dragging it back to his cock.

"Celestia above." Wriothesley's face is tangled in Neuvillette's hair. He doesn't care; all he thinks of is the tight heat of his ass, the weight of his body against his, and his hard cock pressed against his palm. Wriothesley strokes it, thumb tracing the vein along its edge. "Are you close?" he asks as his palm curls around the tip, dragging a delirious sound from the back of Neuvillette's throat.

"Wriothesley." His voice is sluggish, raspy with sleep. He rubs his cheek along Wriothesley's bicep, failing to hide a keen as his prostate is nailed. "Ah, there—"

Wriothesley knows. Oh, he knows. He ruts against him, his cock pressed deep. Less around the friction and slick slide through his guts, and more about the oppressive tightness, and the way that Neuvillette squirms. His hand curls around Wriothesley's, squeezing it so tight around his cock that it must hurt.

Neuvillette guides him, shows him that he wants to be touched hard and fast, and that he's just as desperate to get off. He comes first, spilling into Wriothesley's palm with a muffled cry of his name. His ass clamps tight, insides writhing around Wriotheley's cock.

"Gods," he mutters. Another short, quick thrust, his length wrung tight. "Sweetheart—" A pinch of his wrist, claws curling into the skin painfully. Neuvillette both hates and loves the endearment. Wriothesley will get in an earful later. "Do you want me to come inside?" he asks. "I want—fuck, I need this, I need you."

"Wriothesley." Neuvillette's voice is gravelly. Muddled. He stops pinching his wrist, smoothing his thumb against Wriothesley's wrist bone instead. "Beloved," he murmurs.

That's what does him in, that sweet utterance dripping in adoration. Wriothesley's chest aches and he comes, spending himself into those white-hot depths. He yanks Neuvillette against him, grinding his dick as deep as it can go, filling him. Wet hot warmth. Enough to make a mess, but when he pulls out, Neuvillette's grip around his wrist tightens so much that Wriothesley grunts in pain.

"Alright, alright."

They stay there like that, lazing about in the hazy afterglow. Neuvillette's shirt is damp and tacky, sweat-soaked from the heat of Wriothesley's chest being pressed against it. "We do have to clean up—"

"Later."

Odd. Wriothesley tries to let it not bother him. He wipes the mess from his hand on the blanket before brushing Neuvillette's hair from his neck. "Bad case?"

"A tiring one. I don't want to think about it."

"And so what? You'd rather just have my dick lodged in your ass?"

A soft snort. Mild amusement. "It isn't about your dick," drawls Neuvillette, "but rather the man it is attached to."

Wriothesley knows that but it feels good to hear it. Neuvillette is particular about when he doles out affection, so Wriothesley treats every instance as a rare treat. He leans close, inhaling Neuvillette's scent, feeling the way his being slackens in a post-orgasmic haze. "As much as I love it when you're all touchy-feely, we are still in your office. Sedene's walked in on me with my dick out way too many times as it is."

A beat passes before Neuvillette says, "A little longer. That is all I'm asking."

Wriothesley nods against him. Combs through his hair, tugging it to the side so he doesn't choke on it again. "Okay," he says. "Whatever you want." Neuvillette is rare with such requests. Wriothesley cherishes each one.

They both know they'll fall back asleep. His cock will soften and slip out, and there will be a terrible mess. Sedene will definitely find them, face twisted in mild horror even if it's expected. And she'll still say nothing in the morning, just tug that blasted sheet back over them before dumping a jug of water over Wriothesley's face.

But for now, he just drowns in Neuvillette's presence, fingers sweeping over partially revealed flesh, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Neuvillette huffs. He is no doubt pink in the face, but eats it all up, the tension easing from his shoulders.

Yeah, the water that Sedene uses is suspiciously cold. But every time is worth it.