Wriothesley thinks tentacles might be fun.

CW: Contains Smut

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Neuvillette is, occasionally, stunned by the beauty of his mate.

"Beloved," he murmurs as he leans over him. Wriothesley's waist is soft underneath his palm. "You're doing so well."

They've played in many ways, but never quite like this. Wriothesley writhes in the sheets, held down by cool, slick tendrils of Hydro. Sweat beads across his brow and he moans, the sound hoarse with pleasure as his cock twitches and leaks against his stomach.

Neuvillette thumbs over scars as his claws trace Wriothesley's being. It is a matter of trust; that is what brings pleasure to this old dragon. To request it, to beg for Neuvillette to do as he wishes—It is a gift.

He marvels at the sight of Wriothesley tied down, relaxed in the sheets because he knows it will not be too much. That it'll be perfect, and that Neuvillette will take care of him—which he will. Oh, he will. Neuvillette would do anything for his mate within reason.

"Is it too much?" he asks. His hair is unbound and loose, falling over his shoulder like a waterfall.

"No. No." Wriothesley swallows. Neuvillette's gaze hones in on the bob of his throat, the way that the scars there stretch with the movement.

"Do you want more?"

Hesitation; Wriothesley hesitates before saying, again, "No." Quieter this time, a flighty groan that tumbles from his lips.

Perfectly acceptable. Neuvillette offers him a smile as his fingers trace the sharp line of his collarbone, as he thumbs across a nipple, as he drags his knuckles down Wriothesley's sternum to his navel. And then below.

"So, hear me out," he'd said earlier with that well-known, lecherous glint in his eye. "I have a fun idea."

That fun idea was for a Hydro tentacle to be shoved deep into Wriothesley's ass. The rest of him is tied to the bed by other slick tendrils, spread wide and open in a sordid display. Wriothesley could pull away if he wants—that's a negotiated requirement—but he's given in so easily this entire time.

"Does it feel good?" asks Neuvillette, cupping the small bulge that rests just above the base of Wriothesley's cock.

Wriothesley moans as the weight of Neuvillette's palm presses down ever so slightly. One, two, three—that's how many Wriothesley begged for. They are thin and viscous, altogether just a smidge larger than his draconian length, but long—far longer than what Wriothesley is used to. "Yes," he says, his throat dry like the Sumeru desert.

Divine, thinks Neuvillette; the sound of it. Wriothesley has cried out in pleasure to the point of losing his voice. What a sight, a dream that will haunt Neuvillette for longer than he'd ever admit aloud. But this is Wriothesley, and his mate knows. Even now, lost in the throes of heat and pulled to the edge of spilling over, Wriothesley still manages to shoot him a smirk.

"Does it feel as good as my cock?"

That smirk falls. "No."

Neuvillette chuckles at the response. "As both of my cocks?"

"No." Wriothesley's bravado slips at the thought of it, Neuvillette can tell. That is another indulgence that requires time and preparation but is beloved.

"Sweet boy," says Neuvillette, thumbing over the ridge where those tentacles push Wriothesley's gut to its limits. The bundle isn't as thick as taking both of his dicks; no, this is a different kind of stretch, one that Neuvillette finds himself horrifically fascinated by.

"Neuvillette, please."

Neuvillette looks at Wriothesley's face to find him pink-cheeked and slack-jawed. He pulls at the tentacles that tie him down which has Neuvillette clicking his tongue. "I thought you didn't want more? Is this not enough?"

"It's good," says Wriothesley immediately. He rolls his hips, sliding across the tentacles to prove his point. Neuvillette is water incarnate so he can still feel it, the tight heat of Wriothesley's insides. A strange sensation he is unaccustomed to; it's as if the entirety of his being is just...wholly consumed.

Neuvillette hums softly, considering him. "But?"

"Come on, give me your cock too."

Neuvillette stills. His hand moves, knuckles brushing down Wriothesley's length. Neuvillette aches as well, his own cock hot and hard, spurred on by Wriothesley's goading. He has restraint. This is not a night where his facade threatens to crumble but he is enamored all the same.

He sweeps those fingers down, teasing the seam of Wriothesley's balls. They twitch, drawing up tight against his cock. Neuvillette presses his thumb into the smooth skin of his perineum just below, watching Wriothesley jerk in response.

"Fuck, fuck—"

"Soon," says Neuvillette, the word tinkling with laughter. He traces Wriothesley's rim where it's stretched smooth around the tentacles. Neuvillette thrusts them in and out once, twice, and delights in the way Wriothesely's hole swallows them greedily. "You think you can take my cock as well? Together?"

Wriothesley huffs at that. Nothing but dirty talk, of course. These three tentacles pale in comparison to the girth of both his cocks together, but Neuvillette finds himself in a mood to tease. He thrusts them again, obsessed with the slick squelch as they slide deep.

And that bulge—the sight of it does things to him.

"That look—" Neuvillette blinks at Wriothesley's voice. "—you're thinking about it, right? Fucking me with your cock too?"

Neuvillette finds himself thinking of breeding his mate and how he'd look gravid. How handsome he'd be on his knot, or laying those eggs; bearing their young—

"Would you like to know what I'm thinking of?" he purrs, a low rumble in his chest. Neuvillette sinks a thumb into Wriothesley alongside those tentacles, testing the give. Loose enough. Greedy for more. His thumb slides to the last knuckle and the both of them groan.

"Yes, yes—"

Neuvillette slicks his cock with his other hand. He pulls at Wriothseley's hole, spreading it to press just the tip inside. He rolls his hips gently, rocking his cock deeper and deeper with every sweet thrust. The coolness of the tentacles offers a strange juxtaposition to the tight heat of Wriothesley's body.

"Oh gods," murmurs Wriothesley. "Oh, oh fuck. Archons—"

Neuvillette growls at that, his next thrust a little rougher. "Wriothesley," he snaps, hissing at the tight vice of his velvet insides the moment his thighs meet the soft swell of his mate's ass.

Wriothesley whines. "Sorry, I just—" He yanks Neuvillette close, desperate to touch, desperate to breathe the same air. "Baby, please."

How can he deny him? Neuvillette seeks out his mouth for a needy kiss, drowning in Wriothesley's taste. He moves, thrusting into him, his cock pulling out to the tip only to fuck right back in. "The Archons," he muses, nipping at Wriothesley's mouth. "Not here. No, there is only a dragon here now."

Wriothesley cries out his name as Neuvillette sinks his teeth into the meat of his shoulder. Hips rise and fall to meet every thrust of his cock. And those tentacles—Neuvillette slips a hand between them to pet that bulge again, those errant thoughts clouding his brain.

He will not last long; neither of them will. Wriothesley arches in the bed, stuffed full of his cock and tentacles, writhing in the sheets. He cries out, hoarse, begging for more, praising Neuvillette for how it feels, how much he loves it, how he needs more.

"Tentacles," teases Neuvillette. He cups Wriothesley's face, thumbing at that scar underneath his eye. "You would ask for the most ridiculous of things. And now, it is my turn."

"Neuvillette—"

"I was thinking of breeding you," he says then, nosing at Wriothesley's temple. He smells like tea and leather, like unfettered desire and love. "My love, my beloved—all I can think about is fucking you full. Would you let me? Can I indulge in this fantasy?"

The answer is a resounding yes. Wriothesley comes the moment Neuvillette's hand drops to stroke his cock. He clenches so tightly that Neuvillette's free hand nearly shreds the sheets. "Just like that," hisses Neuvillette, his next thrusts sharp and heavy.

He spills with a grunt, slicking Wriothesley's insides with his spend. Then he grinds deep, his hips slapping against Wriothesley's ass with a wet squelch. Wriothesley's neck is bared, deliciously on display. Neuvillette can't help but suck a mark into it as his instincts nearly boil him alive.

It isn't until Wriothesley brushes back his bangs that Neuvillette realizes his tentacles have melted away in that hazy aftermath. The bed is wet and sodden. Wriothesley shudders as Neuvillette moves, his cock shifting inside of him.

"Wait, no, stay."

Neuvillette stays, collapsing against Wriothesley who just sighs against his face. He keeps petting his hair, fingers tracing down the long length of one of Neuvillette's horns. There may be muttered words about a bath, about cleaning up, about resting—all of which Wriothesley ignores.

"So yeah, tentacles," laughs Wriothesley. "I think you're the one that needs rest, though. Did it hurt?"

"Hurt?"

"To admit your desires? It's rare to hear such dirty talk from you—Ow—"

Neuvillette's teeth sink into his flesh for a bite that's a little too hard. Wriothesley hisses but doesn't push him off, accepting his fate. And he loves it, Neuvillette knows he does; he'll catch Wriothesley admiring the mark left behind in the mirror later.

"Mmhn. I love you," he says, kissing that bite mark, soothing it with his tongue. "Even when considering your dubiously inclined preference for tentacles—"

"It isn't a preference!"

Of course, not. But Neuvillette can't help but be amused nonetheless.