Wriothesley won't let Neuvillette come until he begs for it.

CW: Sontains Smut

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Wriothesley wishes he could praise the Archons, but he knows that Neuvillette might kick him out of their bed if he does.

But, he can't help it. Neuvillette is a vision in their sheets, muscles taut, back arched, hips rolling as he meets every thrust of Wriothesley's fingers. A soft moan drips from his lips. Wriothesley smiles from where he lies between Neuvillette's legs. He crooks his fingers, sliding them across his prostate, and Neuvillette jerks in the sheets.

"Ah, that's—"

"Sweetheart," murmurs Wriothesley, tilting his face to mouth at the soft inside of Neuvillette's thigh. His teeth sink in and he's rewarded with a sigh, and fingers curling through his hair.

"I'm, I'm—"

"Close?" Wriothesley knows that he is. Neuvillette's cock has fully slipped out from his vent, hard and flushed at the tip, leaking all over his belly. He trembles in the sheets, claws scraping over Wriothesley's tender scalp. Wriothesley hums, fingers sliding over that bundle of nerves for a second time.

Perfection. Neuvillette is so handsome when lost in the throes of passion. Wriothesley is addicted to it; to the sight of him, to the way his hole clamps tightly around his fingers, to the way that Neuvillette's cock twitches untouched. So rarely does he curse, but here, in these silk sheets, words fly from his mouth unbidden. Gasps of Wriothesley's name caught in his throat. Choked off words, lost as they taper off into a moan—Neuvillette may be quiet in public but in their bed he is honest, and Wriothesley is obsessed with dragging him to the edge over and over.

"Wriothesley," says Neuvillette, his legs widening as he comes close to cresting that wave.

Wriothesley pulls out his fingers, leaving Neuvillette just short of an orgasm. He hisses, yanking at Wriothesley's hair. "Cruel," he snaps. "Wriothesley."

Wriothesley chuckles softly, kissing the spot where Neuvillette's groin meets his thigh. "Do you remember what you said earlier?"

"Don't remind me." Oh, that was nearly a snarl.

Wriothesley glances up to meet the tart expression that's plastered across Neuvillette's face. "Tell me?" he asks, knowing it might be a little mean. "I want to hear it, Neuvillette."

"I—you." Neuvillette's nostrils flare as Wriothesley drags the pad of his pointer finger down the length of his slick and aching cock.

"Let me help you," begins Wriothesley, thumbing over the tip next. He clears his throat and continues with: "'Beloved—'" Neuvillette snorts. "'—take your fill of me and do as you wish.'"

"I didn't mean—"

"You didn't mean it?" asks Wriothesley, stroking Neuvillette's length once, twice, from base to crown.

"No."

"No?"

"Wriothesley."

He takes pity on Neuvillette for a moment, dipping forward to wrap his mouth around the head of his cock. Neuvillette cries out, his palm flattening against the back of Wriothesley's head. The grip is firm and solid. He tries to guide his cock deeper into Wriothesley's mouth, desperate for the wet heat.

Wriothesley hollows his cheeks and traces the underside with his tongue. Pulls back and suckles the tip, lapping at the slick precome, moaning at the taste. Neuvillette groans, mildly annoyed. And perhaps Wriothesley is mean—he's staved off his end several times now, but Neuvillette promised whatever indulgence he wants, and Wriothesley wants to see him begging to come.

Part of Neuvillette's composure cracks as he pulls Wriothesley onto his cock entirely, straight to the root. Wriothesley sputters, coughing slightly—but he, ultimately, expects it. He pinches the meat of Neuvillette's thigh despite taking it well. He swallows and Neuvillette groans, bucking into his mouth, the tip of his cock teasing Wriothesley's throat.

Neuvillette shudders. His cock twitches, swelling between Wriothesley's lips, a tell-tale sound that he's close to the edge again. Wriothesley still has two fingers pressed deep into his ass, fucking into him gently, and Neuvillette—he's a sight. Flushed in the face, fangs pricking at his bottom lip as he bites it. His next moan is loud and torturous, as if he may die if he doesn't find completion.

"Beloved—"

Oh, he's stooped so low. Wriothesley smiles around his cock and sucks, and when it twitches, when precome spills from the tip in a steady flow—

He pulls off again.

Neuvillette keens, an aggrieved sound that echoes off the stone walls of the bedroom. Then a growl, deep and dangerous. A warning. Wriothesley curls his fingers around the base of Neuvillette's cock and squeezes, choking off whatever retort he may have. He just whines, needy and desperate, his cock pulsing with that soft glow of blue.

"Come on, baby," says Wriothesley, kissing the tip, teasing. "I want to hear it."

The thing of the matter is that Neuvillette has no trouble begging—it's just something that happens under very specific situations. Usually at the expense of Wriothesley, sitting across his lap and wringing his cock dry. Neuvillette will ride him too slowly, too patiently, begging to feel the length of his cock until Wriothesley is practically sobbing against his nape.

But now it's Neuvillette that sobs in the sheets, fucking against his hand, worn thin and wasted. "Wriothesley," he says, throat parched and dry. "Wriothesley, Wriothesley—"

"It won't take much. Just one word—which you haven't yet said."

A soft grunt. Neuvillette's hole tightens around Wriothesley's fingers as they slide near his prostate, but far enough to cause supreme dissatisfaction. Wriothesley considers licking a strip along the length of his vent to annoy him, but Neuvillette is almost there. So, so, close.

"Please," hisses Neuvillette, finally giving in. He yanks at Wriothesley's hair until his scalp pricks with pain. "Please, please, let me come."

What a sweet sound. Music to Wriothesley's ears, better than any show that's graced the stage at the Opera Epiclese. "So good for me," he says, releasing the base of Neuvillette's cock. "Alright, alright." He strokes Neuvillette's cock fast and hard. Laps at the spade-like tip and whispers praise against the stiff, heated flesh.

He slips a third finger inside, fucking Neuvillette earnestly. Neuvillette's hips rise and fall, chasing his end, desperate for release. "Yes," he cries, his cock twitching. "Yes, yes—" And then he comes, spilling all over Wriothesley's hand, and his stomach.

Wriothesley strokes him through it. He moves, crawling across him, licking up Neuvillette's come from where it pools in his navel, moaning at the ocean-salt taste. Neuvillette still pulls at his hair, claws raking through the strands as his orgasm boils his blood, riding wave after wave that pulses through his veins.

And Wriothesley knows—he knows just how it feels to be dragged to the edge so many times that when you finally tip over it's a cross between pain and pleasure, unsure if it's satisfying, or if the completion was enough. Neuvillette quakes in the bed. He moans, drawn out and low, clipped at the end from exhaustion.

The grip on Wriothesley's hair loosens.

"Wasn't that good?" asks Wriothesley, nuzzling Neuvillette's sweat-slick skin.

"You..."

"I'm?"

"You didn't fuck me. You—I still—"

Wriothesley pulls his fingers from him. Neuvillette's hole is loose and slick, ripe for the taking. And Wriothesley's own cock is still hard, hanging between his legs, aching. "Do you want more, Sweetheart?" Neuvillette grunts and Wriothesley smiles against his sternum, kissing his way back up the length of his body. "Have you so quickly forgotten that one little word?"

"Unsatisfied," murmurs Neuvillette, and Wriothesley stills.

"Now that's a little cruel."

"Cruel is not breeding me. Cruel is leaving your mate bereft in the sheets. Cruel is—"

Wriothesley nips at his mouth to shut him up. He settles between Neuvillette's legs, tugs them around his waist, and sinks his cock into his ass with one fell swoop. Whatever Neuvillette's next complaint is lost in a garbled string of words. And as Neuvillette clings to him, begging again, this time freely and wanton, Wriothesley thinks it is worth every curse thrown his way.