Wriothesely has a bad day, rests his head against Neuvillette's lap, and gets off to being called a 'Good boy'.

CW: Contains Smut

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Wriothesley is keyed up for a lot of reasons.

Too many new intakes, the death of their Archon, a—what he will assume—to be a brutal rut looming on the horizon; these are the things that have wrung him tight to the point of agitation. It took him snapping at Sigewinne to realize he needed a break.

The option is obvious. There is only one place Wriothesley will find peace, despite what the average person would think, and it's between the legs of his partner.

"Beloved," says Neuvillette, his fingers combing through Wriothesley's coarse hair. Just to pet it. Nothing untoward. And Wriothesley just sits there on the ground, cheek resting against Neuvillette's thigh as he works.

Sedene says nothing. She drops off a stack of papers, sighing at the sight of him, but turns on her heel to leave after Neuvillette gives his thanks. His hand leaves Wriothesley's hair to shuffle through reports, unable to put an end to his day early.

Still. It is quiet. Neuvillette is dressed down on the couch, jacket tossed over his desk chair, and the topmost buttons of his collar undone. Wriothesley too, having tossed his jacket onto an arm of the coat rack haphazardly the moment he slipped through the door. Neuvillette is mostly muscle but his thigh is soft, and Wriothesley relaxes against it.

Neuvillette had not asked questions. "I need you," said Wriothesley, and Neuvillette's response was immediate as he pulled him close. Then he'd moved to the couch and folded Wriothesley against his lap before resuming whatever he was working on.

Alphas... do not behave like this. And there is a part of Wriothesley that still hesitates but the comfort of Neuvillette's fingers pulling across his scalp smooths out any doubt that lingers in his mind. Neuvillette's scent is not commanding. It's sweet, and Wriothesley drowns in it, lax in his lap.

Neuvillette eventually speaks. "Good boy," he says, and oh, what that does for Wriothesley. He has never... This has never...

Wriothesley's throat bobs as he lies there against Neuvillette's lap, soaking up the praise. Neuvillette likely didn't think about it; he praises him plenty—particularly when chock full of Wriothesley's cock. But never like this. There is something more raw and intimate about this, with Neuvillette's claws against his head.

Neuvillette purrs gently. He smells proud as he pets Wriothesley's hair, content that his partner came to him. The sound of it eases Wriothesley's tightly-rung alpha. The smell of him, the way his claws scrape through the strands of his hair—Wriothesley feels the tension bleed from his being.

And the praise is...

"Wriothesley."

Wriothesley tilts his face up to find Neuvillette watching him carefully. "You heard what I said, yes?" Neuvillette knows that he did, he can sense those minute changes in the air and smell Wriothesley's calm. But Wriothesley also knows there is a satisfaction in hearing it, an instinctual need to know that your mate is well taken care of.

He snorts softly and kisses Neuvillette's thigh through his trousers. "Yeah."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah."

Neuvillette hums. "Are you comfortable?"

Wriothesley smiles, his eyes fluttering closed. "Mhmn, yeah."

He loses himself in the feel of Neuvillette's fingers. "I'm sorry that I have to work. I won't be long."

"No, it's—fine. This is fine. I like this."

Neuvillette's hand stutters slightly. "So good to me," he says softly, as if Wriothesley is the one giving him a gift. And then, another gentle, "Good boy."

A soft rumble rolls through Wriothesley's being. He just... relaxes, letting his mind blank, dozing in Neuvillette's lap. It's nice. For once, his alpha brain shuts down. He doesn't think about the Fortress, or his paperwork, or inmates and squabbles. All that fills Wriothesley's mind is Neuvillette's hand combing through his hair and that beloved scent of ocean salt water and parchment washing over him.

He barely hears the rustle of papers. Neuvillette shifts slightly, leaning to the side table to notate something on a report. His other hand never leaves Wriothesley's scalp, that comfortable weight persistent. Wriothesley doesn't know how long he dozes but eventually, he blinks awake, and now Neuvillette cradles a book in his lap.

There is no longer sunlight filtering in from the windows. Sedene must've come in and lit the oil lamps—which, Wriothesley will definitely not hear the end of. Him, in Neuvillette's lap, purring as he was pet so sweetly. Yeah, she'll be teasing him for decades.

But Neuvillette still sits there, comfortable. He reads, still combing through Wriothesley's hair, tracing his scalp with the sharp tips of those claws. Wriothesley realizes that this must be comforting for him too, not just the quietness of it, but that he submits so well that, and that Neuvillette gets to take care of him.

It is part of their nature to want to fuss over their partners, and Wriothesley is thankful that despite the push and pull of their alphas, this is something they have never struggled with. Yes, his alpha would rather soothe Neuvillette—but it relishes in the same care turned back. Wriothesley kneeled between his legs because he wanted to, not because it was expected.

He should treat him. Neuvillette. He still pets his hair with that book resting in his lap as he turns a page every few moments, and Wriothesley should definitely take care of him too. Wriothesley tilts in his lap and Neuvillette's hand pauses.

"Beloved?" he murmurs, looking down.

Wriothesley kisses the meat of his thigh. And then his groin, where that thigh meets his hip. Neuvilllette's gaze turns half-lidded and sharp. "Wriothesley,"

"I want to take care of you," replies Wriothesley as he nuzzles Neuvillette's half-hard bulge. So quick to rise. He smirks against that length and bites at it through Neuvillette's trousers, alpha rumbling in his chest, pleased.

"Oh?"

"Didn't you call me a good boy? Lemme show you."

Neuvillette's gaze is a dark, heady thing that sets Wriothesley's blood boiling with desire. He sighs, leaning back against the couch cushion, spreading his legs wider to accommodate Wriothesley easier. His fingers tighten in Wriothesley's hair as he tugs him close.

"Greedy," teases Wriothesley as he tugs Neuvillette's trousers open. "You usually hate doing anything here."

His office is too public, too prone to others walking in. But, here and now— "It's late," says Neuvillette groaning when Wriothesley's hand dips into his clothing. Then, a soft hiss, when his cock is freed, already dribbling precome at the tip.

"And you want this," says Wriothesley as he strokes Neuvillette's length once, twice.

He gives Neuvillette no time to answer, dipping forward to seal his lips around the head of his cock. Neuvillette arches against him, hips jerking as his length sinks deep into Wriothesley's mouth. Wriothesley takes it in stride, moaning around him, fingers digging into his thighs to hold on.

It only spurs Neuvillette on. He cups Wriothesley's face between both of his hands. "Look at you," he says, thumbing across the arch of the bone there to where his lips are sealed around his cock.

Wriothesley knows he's a vision, what with the way that Neuvillette cannot stop staring at him. And Wriothesley stares back, lashes fluttering against his face as he blinks slowly and sinks the entire way down his length. A choked sound bubbles from his lips around heated flesh when the tip bullies the back of Wriothesley's throat. He loves this, sucking him down, the weight of Neuvillette's cock against his tongue, the heady taste and smell of him.

Scent glands right there, right at Neuvillette's groin, leaking that spiced smell that fogs Wriothesley's head. Neuvillette strokes his hair reverently and brushes his bangs back to take another look. A soft growl of pleasure. A gentle, rolling buck of Neuvillette's hips, unable to keep himself from sliding through Wriothesley's mouth.

"You take me so well," he tells him. "What a good boy."

Wriothesley moans, bobbing his head, pushing and pulling against Neuvillette's cock. Good boy—what a thought, but it's a thought that sings through his veins. His alpha is satisfied. He wants to do this, wants to be—

"Perfect," hisses Neuvillette in a punched sound as Wriothesley swallows around his dick. "Wriothesley, you're perfect."

It is a good day when Wriothesley can pull those sorts of sounds from Neuvillette's throat. He pulls off and suckles the tip, his tongue tracing around the crown. "Want to fuck my mouth?"

"I—"

"You could." Wriothesley's lips curl around the words sinfully and he knows that Neuvillette has been caught hook, line, and sinker. "I could swallow you deep and you can just hold me there and watch. You know I like a firm grip."

Neuvillette's nostrils flare. His alpha purrs, his chest rumbling, and Wriothesley's scalp stings as he tugs his face back into position. Wriothesley could pull away; he could kiss anywhere else and nibble at that damned scent gland, but he plays along with his goading. He swallows Neuvillette's cock again in one fell swoop, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks.

This time, Neuvillette bucks into the tight heat of Wriothesley's mouth harder. And hand slips around the back of Wriothesley's head to press flat, holding him there as Neuvillette feeds his length deeper. Wriothesley sputters around him, drool pooling in the corners of his mouth, but he behaves, he's—

"Fuck." It is a rare thing for Neuvillette to curse. "You feel—" Another roll of his hips and a soft groan. Neuvillette's face is flushed pink and sweat beads along his usually pristine brow. "Your mouth feels good, you always feel so, so—Perfect boy."

The praise sinks deep into Wriothesley's gut and settles in. Pleasure burns through him. Wriothesley's cock is hard too, pressed against his tight trousers. Later. This is about Neuvillette, about being that perfect mate he claims he is. Neuvillette lets him move, rising and falling against his cock. Wriothesley's fingers stroke the rest. Neuvillette's grip on Wriothesley's hair is so tight that he feels the tingle of it in the base of his spine.

Neuvillette comes too soon, praise on his lips, telling Wriothesley what a perfect, perfect mate he is. Come splashes against his lips, salty and acrid. Wriothesley still smirks and makes a show of licking it away, cleaning up every last drop.

This was supposed to wind them down, to relax them—but there is nothing relaxed about the arousal that is pungent in the air. Neuvillette's grip has loosened but his claws refuse to leave those coarse strands. A claim. His instincts demand to keep him close, to have one hand on Wriothesley at all times, which Wriothesley is not unopposed to.

"So," he begins, pulling back. He holds Neuvillette's still-hard cock in one hand, and sweeps through an errant glob of semen, bringing it to his mouth. "Your place or mine?"

"Incorrigible," murmurs Neuvillette, tracing Wriothesley's bottom lip with his thumb. "Come here."

Wriothesley lifts himself, straddling his lap on the couch, leaning close enough to drown in Neuvillette's scent. He smells like sin and love. Wriothesley moans, tilting his face to snip at the scent gland on his nape, desperate to sink his teeth in properly.

Neuvillette grasps him by the chin and tugs his face close for a heated kiss. Their tongues tangle and swirl about, and Wriothesley cannot taste enough of him, desperate for more, desperate for—

A squeeze against his cock brings Wriothesley's thoughts to a halt. "Even here," whispers Neuvillette against his mouth. "Even your cock is good for me, hm?"

Wriothesley grinds against his hand, nearly tumbling right over the edge at just those words. Neuvillette kisses his temple, nuzzling the skin there. He drags a thumb down the length of Wriothesley's clothed erection, the pressure teasing.

"Are you going to come like this? I'd like to see it, you, rutting against my hand so sweetly gone. Beloved, show me."

Neuvillette cups his tented cock and Wriothesley moves against his palm. More praise drips into his ear; good boy's and so perfect for me's dragging Wriothesley to his end so effortlessly. He comes, kissing away those words, swallowing them down as Neuvillette pets his overstimulated dick through his orgasm, trousers annoyingly in the way.

What a mess. Wriothesley grunts, forehead dropping to Neuvillette's shoulder. "That was—"

"Do you feel better?" asks Neuvillette.

Suddenly, the room feels too quiet as he strokes the smooth skin of Wriothesley's cheek. And not bad quiet, just... Arousal still clings to the air and everything feels tilted. Wriothesley clings to him, arms curled around Neuvillette's neck.

"Yeah."

Neuvillette hums, letting Wriothesley take his fill, touching him, scenting him, and biting his neck. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Not the sex. Not even the way he needed to settle, but whatever it was that got him to that point. He always asks Wriothesley this and never expects an answer. "Just a shit day. The usual." Wriothesley pulls back and grins. "But my alpha took care of me. Isn't that nice?"

Neuvillette huffs, half-amused. "Hard not to when you come in begging for it. Sedene—" Wriothesley cringes. Right. He'd rather not think about her. Neuvillette laughs and kisses his brow. "Come. Let's clean up and retire for the night."

Wriothesley stands on shaky legs, steadied by Neuvillette's hand against the small of his. His alpha churrs, pleased and content. Neuvillette notices how his scent changes and leans in to take a whiff. Says nothing else, just kisses that swollen gland against Wriothesley's neck before pushing him towards the wet bar.

He manages to towel off before Neuvillette gets impatient. The walk home, though, is lazy, full of wandering hands and stolen kisses under the moonlight. And yes, he feels better—Neuvillette always makes him feel better. Wriothesley counts his blessings with every step that they take, melting all the more when Neuvillette dips close to tease him with more praise.