Wriothesely and Neuvillette have some fun with handcuffs and a muzzle.

CW: Contains Smut

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"Your safe word," murmurs Neuvillette, his dulcet voice right next to Wriothesley's ear. "What is it?"

A simple question, one that many alphas would likely take as an insult. A safe word implies danger, that perhaps he isn't strong enough to protect himself. Teeth would gnash. Maybe a few snarls are exchanged, his back pressed into the bed at the mercy of another alpha.

But warmth spreads through Wriothesley's chest instead, enamored by the soft look that Neuvillette gives him when he pulls back to meet his face. "Sigewinne," is the quick reply

Neuvillette gives him a soft smile. He hangs over Wriothesley, his hair loose, hanging across his shoulder like a waterfall. One of Wriothesley's wrists is held by long, smooth fingers. Neuvillette smooths a thumb over his wrist bone, his expression melting into something headier, more sultry.

Metal clasps around that wrist, clicking shut. Neuvillette slips a finger into the space between the cuff and Wriothesley's skin. "Loose enough?"

"Yeah," says Wriothesley, his voice dry. Parched. Raspy. Oh, this is hot. Neuvillette hovers over him like a predator, and really, Wriothesley doesn't mind being the prey if it results in mind-numbing pleasure.

Neuvillette hums and tugs Wriothesley's arm above his head, latching the other cuff to a rung of the headboard. "Give it a tug."

Wriothesley tugs, once, and then twice, satisfied with the hold. The metal of his handcuffs cuts into his skin but isn't terribly uncomfortable.

More clinking as Neuvillette holds up a second pair. "You would have two, hm?" he teases, pulling the cuff open. Which, of course. Wriothesley gives him a wink in response. This one goes around his other wrist and tugged upwards as well before being clipped to the bed.

It is then that Wriothesley's alpha flares in his chest. A moment of weakness, doubt flaring in his chest. It chokes his being and his thoughts catter. Abort. This is—

He tries to calm himself. No, no, this is what he wanted. He requested this and Neuvillett took up the reins so sweetly. Wriothesley sucks in a breath, counts to three, and reminds himself that he asked to be tied up, to test the boundaries of their pleasure.

Neuvillette was surprised when the idea was broached. He looked up from his book and cup of water, tilted his head, and asked if Wriothesley truly meant it. Even now, he's kind and patient, checking in, asking questions, watching Wriothesely's face carefully. "I thank you for your trust in me," he whispers, brushing back his bangs and kissing Wriothesley's sweaty forehead.

Then Neuvillette says: "I have an additional request, provided you are interested."

Curious strikes through him like a white-hot brand. Neuvillette rarely does this and every time it comes as a treat. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Go on."

"Another restraint, this one..." Neuvillette pauses and pulls back slightly. "You are allowed to say no. I would understand."

"Sweetheart—" And then Wriothesley sees the toy resting across his palm. "I... where on earth did you get that?"

Neuvillette gives him an amused look. "A man doesn't so easily give away his secrets."

"A man also doesn't randomly purchase the same model of muzzle that another owns."

"Then, perhaps, a man should hide his toys better." Neuvillette hums, shifting his hand until the muzzle hangs from a fingertip. He traces the wire cage with his thumb, taking in the good-quality metal and leather clasps. "I wasn't aware you enjoyed this sort of play."

"I don't." The answer comes quickly enough that Neuvillette stills, hypervigilant of Wriothesley's terse tone. "I... Sigewinne, she..." Wriothesley wishes he could drag a hand down his face but cuffed up he's vulnerable, forced to be open, unable to hide his embarrassment. "It was a gag gift." A pause. "A literal one."

"Ah. I shall put it away—"

"Wait, no, I didn't say..."

Neuvillette stills again but this time there's an undercurrent of heat there, his cheeks flush and eyes bright with arousal. He smells—well. It's very apparent how much Wriothesley enjoys his scent, his cock hard against Neuvillette's ass. "Wriothesley."

Wriothesley swallows, his throat bobbing. Neuvillette's eyes track the movement carefully, dragging over his entire being. Sizing him up. So easy to read. Neuvillette is a calm and collected man but he can't hold back the scent of interest.

"You just said it. I trust—"

"There is no expectation," says Neuvillette, reaching out to cup his cheek. His scent turns soothing, sensing the rising anxiety that wracks Wriothesley.

"Yeah, but I trust you." And oh, he does. Even if his alpha curls tightly in his gut, disliking the idea of restraint, he trusts Neuvillette to bring him nothing but pleasure. Neuvillette opens his mouth and Wriothesley cuts him off. "And I trust you to take care of me. With anyone else it'd be a no, but with you I know it'll be good."

Neuvillette is quiet for a long moment, still rubbing his thumb over the muzzle. "This has a bit. You won't be able to speak."

"Yeah."

"You won't be able to push me off." Wriothesley nods. "You won't be able to safeword out, you won't—"

"Sweetheart."

"You'll—"

"Baby." Neuvillette stiffens, his nostrils flaring. Usually, he hates this pet name but Wriothesley's mouth curls around it so quietly, so sweetly that it's taken on a different tone. "I know you want this too, and isn't the point to figure it out? Our limits, our loves? If I don't like it I'll just kick you."

Neuvillette snorts, his mouth tipping up at one end, all that worry eking away. "The idea of you... You would be so handsome underneath me, utterly at my mercy. Would you heel for me?"

Tied up. Bound and gagged, a harrowing and delicious thought. Wriothesley licks his lips as he imagines it. "Mhm, yeah."

Neuvillette leans close, their mouths just a breath apart. "Beloved," he says, "for you to gift me this opportunity... Do not think I misunderstand the difficulty of such a thing. I will take care of you." He kisses him, then, slow and languid, his tongue tracing the seam of Wriothesley's mouth.

And this is how it is between them, that well-known and loved push and pull. Wriothesley's alpha rattles in his rib cage but also wants to submit. Neuvillette tips his face back to change the angle, that long, forked tongue slipping deep to tease. Soft, breathy moans. The subtle grind of Neuvillette's hips, his erection dragging across Wriothesley's skin.

Yes, yes, yes. Wriothesley whines, a pitiful sound that would send most alphas running, but Neuvillette cups his cheek and laughs, pecking his lips before pulling away. "The muzzle, then. This will take a moment. Lift your head, please."

Fitting it takes trial and error. Neuvillette positions the muzzle around his face gently. The bit tamps Wriothesley's tongue down. Not even a half moment in, drool pools at the corners of his mouth, leaking down his chin. Neuvillette sweeps his thumb through it, knowing it's a fruitless effort. "Cute," he murmurs before tightening the final strap out the back of Wriothesley's head.

Neuvillette cups his chin and forces Wriothesley to meet his gaze. "Look at me, Wriothesley. Yes, just like that. Now listen: snap your fingers and I will stop. No questions. Everything will come off, and I will go put a kettle on, and we will wind down. Show me?"

It takes a moment for Wriothesley to realize what Neuvillette meant but he snaps his fingers, the crisp, sharp sound cutting through the air.

"Good boy," praises Neuvillette, letting go of his chin. He sits back then and drags a hand down the length of Wriothesley's chest. "A vision," he says, getting an eyeful.

This is where Wriothesley's hands would fly to his waist, pulling Neuvillette's hips closer. They'd frot their cocks together, heated and hot, groaning at the slick friction. But he can't—he can't. Wriothesley's arms shake, rattling the cuffs against the wooden headboard, dragging a chuckle out of Neuvillette as he watches.

"I bet you are thinking I'll fuck you." The curse is a rare tease. Neuvillette shifts down, settling over Wriothesley's thighs. He gathers their cocks and presses them together. Wriothesley moans, the sound of it cut short and made awkward by the bit in his mouth. "No," continues Neuvillette. "No. I want to watch you squirm as I ride you instead."

Oh. Oh. Wriothesley's cock twitches in Neuvillette's hand. He bucks against him, hips rising and falling, and the resulting grin that Neuvillette shoots him is a taunting thing. Dangerous—that's a dangerous look with a feral glint. Neuvillette's eyes are half-lidded as he regards him.

"Beloved," he says, "what would you say if you knew I was prepared? That I'd already opened myself up on my fingers whilst waiting for you to arrive?"

Unfair. So wholly, horrifically unfair. Wriothesley whimpers, annoyed that he can't say a damn thing, which prompts Neuvillette to shush him. Worse—that's worse. A little condescending. Wriothesley growls, his alpha flaring, desperate to put his partner in place. He moves to flip them over—only for his arms to calm to a halt. Metal bites into the bones of his wrists.

"Oh, I know that look." Neuvillette's mouth is still curved into that feral grin as he tightens his hand around both their lengths. "You're frustrated."

Not really. A smidge. It isn't Wriothesley's fault that his instincts flare, desperate for dominance. He's too open, to bare like this, and while Neuvillette would never harm him, Wriothesley's alpha hates being prone. But, he also wants this, even his alpha. Caught between giving in and giving up. But Neuvillette—he looks at Wriothesley like he's something to be treasured, which makes it easier to let go.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath in through his nose. Those raging instincts in his breast calm, relaxing at Neuvillette's quiet and thoughtful praise. He strokes their cocks together, bucking into the grip. The friction makes Wriothesley groan, choking around the bit.

"Perfect," says Neuvillette, his breath itching as he fucks his hand, cock sliding against Wriothesley's. "Handsome. Ah, look at you."

Wriothesely must look a mess, pressed into the sheets, muzzled and restrained. His cock is hard and leaking, flushed pink at the tip. Neuvillette thumbs across the head, clicking his tongue as the digit comes away wet and tacky. "So needy," he chides affectionately. "You do like the idea of it, hm? That I'm needy for you as well?"

Yes, yes. Wriothesley loves to see Neuvillette like this. He's usually so calm and collected, less desirous. But Wriothesley knows—oh, he knows. Dragons and alphas alike covet their partners and Neuvillette comes as no exception. That was part of the appeal of Wriothesley wanting to be tied down and taken. And there Neuvillette is with matters in his own hands, fingers dancing over their lengths, wrenching them dry.

Wriothesley bucks his hips and moans. Neuvillette gives him a half-slitted gaze, his pupils narrowly slit. The air is spiced with his arousal, dark and heady. "I would suck you off—" Neuvillette laughs as Wriothesley shakes his head furiously. "You're truly out of sorts, then. How lucky for you that I am the same."

Neuvillette moves, crawling across Wriothesley's body. "It wasn't a tease," he says, wetting Wriothesley's cock with a palmful of Hydro. "I really was desperate enough to fuck my own fingers. And yes, I was imagining they were your cock instead."

Filthy, filthy words. Who knew that Neuvillette could be so crass? It's cruel that Wriothesley can say nothing in return, that he can't tease him back, or suck marks into his skin, or pull him onto his cock until Neuvillette loses those devilish words.

The tip of his cock is pressed to Neuvillette's slick and loose hole. All it takes is for Neuvillette to roll his hips and Wriothesley's cock sinks right to the root. Effortlessly. Easily. As if Neuvillette is made for him—and oh, he is, they both are, despite their natures. Neuvillette moans, fingers digging into the meat of Wriothesley's stomach, tracing scars and the lines of his muscle.

"Good boy." Neuvillette seems almost drunk as he watches him, tracing the puckered spots of his skin with soft fingertips. Another rise and fall against Wriothesley has him crying out. "Wriothesley," he purrs, slack-jawed, his own erection stiff as it lays against Wriothesley's heated belly.

And Wriothesley does heel. He moans, melting into the bed, going lax underneath him. The blinding heat of Neuvileltte's insides drown his thoughts. The smell of him, the grip of his ass; everything, everything.

This is why he gives in, of course. The alpha in Wriothesley's chest tumbles right into Neuvillette's hands, allowing them to pick and pull him apart. He never gets this, never has the opportunity to let loose and forget because he trusts no one. One eye open at all times. His back never facing the door.

But Neuvillette, he trusts. Wriothesley can be restrained, close his eyes, and just forget, molded like wax underneath Neuvillette's keen hands. He rides him like the rise and fall of the tide. Soft, breathy moans and cries of Wriothesley's name drip from his mouth, formed by that wicked and forked tongue. Neuvillette leans over him, hair shimmering like the moonlight, shielding Wriothesley from the world.

Wriotheseley loves this, loves him. Even his alpha calms, giving into everything that Neuvillette offers.

"Beloved," says Neuvillette, tracing Wriothesley's brow with his knuckles. He keeps saying it, keeps calling him that, and every time Wriothesley just sinks deeper and deeper.

The bit tugs at his mouth. Drool pools in the corners of his lips and Neuvillette chuckles as he tilts his face from side to side for a better look. "So handsome like this, trussed up underneath me. Tell me, do I feel good?"

Wriothesley moans, nodding. Tight and slick. Every slide against his length shoots sparks up his spine—and Neuvillette knows it. A tease. He rolls his hips slowly, then faster, then slowly again, uneven with his rhythm, dragging Wriothesley to the edge only to stave it right off. Wriothesley growls, mildly frustrated. Moans, lost in the heat.

Neuvillette hums, his pointer finger slipping between the bars of the muzzle. Wriothesley would snap at it, a tease of his own, but the bit tamping his tongue down prevents such a thing. He shoots Neuvillette a glare instead, a cool gaze that makes him click his tongue.

That finger hooks against the metal and tugs, pulling at Wriothesley's face. His arms strain with the stretch, mildly uncomfortable—but he doesn't snap his way out. No. Wriothesley is obsessed with the way Neuvillette looks at him, obsessed with the burn of his muscles, and the way he lies prone. That devouring gaze. Neuvillette nips at the curve of his jaw, fangs just barely sinking into the skin there, and Wriothesley is forced to just lie there and accept it.

"So full," he says. "You fill me so well. That's why I—" Neuvillette moans as he leans back, fingers tracing the scars that line Wriothesley's neck.

Wriothesley's face tips back, baring the column of his throat. He swallows thickly as that touch turns reverent, tracing every inch. "Another gift," says Neuvillette, awed by the way Wriothesley heels for him. "How I want to mark it up."

He does; Neuvillette dips down again and catches Wriothesley's flesh between his teeth. He rides him, fucking himself on Wriothesley's cock, moaning every time that it slides impossibly deep.

Wriothesley snarls—a soft sound eaten up by the bit; and then he whines as Neuvillette's tongue taps at the bite mark sunk into his neck. Wriothesley bucks, planting his feet and driving his cock into his yielding form.

Neuvillette grunts, surprised, and then he hisses, "Yes," an arm hooking around Wriothesley's neck, pressing close. His other hand finds his cock, hard and aching. He strokes himself as drops his hips, meeting every thrust of Wriothesley's cock.

Sweltering—everything is sweltering. Wriothesley drowns in thick alpha pheromones, desperate to roll over and heel. Just what he wanted, just what he needed. Neuvillette played right into his hand and brought out his own gift; the damned muzzle, a gag gift never meant to be used. But, but—

"Wriothesley, are you okay?" Neuvillette is close enough to see the skin pinched between Wriothesley's brows. He's thinking too much. Trying to stave off his end. The sound he lets loose is punched from deep in his throat. Wriothesley nods fervently, the leather of the muzzle digging into his scalp. His arms burn from the strain and everything else is oversensitive. "Pet," says Neuvillette, combing through his hair, claws raking against the tender flesh. "This is love, yes? I love you."

He will never get used to hearing it. Wriothesley has long looked at Neuvillette and thought mate, but Neuvillette is more careful with his words. But in moments like this, he is freer. He rolls his hips, grinding them down, and just tells Wriothesley that he loves him, over and over.

Wriothesley spills, tipping over the edge suddenly. He groans, pulled tight and thin as Neuvillette rides him with a dragon-eyed gaze, chasing his own end. The wet slap of his ass against Wriothesley's thighs; his hand on his cock, and the schlick schlick as he strokes it.

"Wriothesley," he hisses, the base of his cock swelling. Wriothesley didn't even get the chance to pop a knot and the sight of Neuvillette so gone makes his cock twitch, even as spent as it is. Neuvillette comes with a grunt, slamming his hips down. He squeezes his knot in a white-knuckled grip and watches him sharply; stares at Wriothesley as his nostrils flare, no doubt thinking other terrible, sordid thoughts.

A waste of a knot—that's what Wriothesley's alpha thinks. He stares at the way it fills Neuvillette's palm and wishes it was shoved in him instead. Later. Another time. Wriothesley will coax Neuvillette into tying him up again and fucking him until his thighs shake, and he's choked up, filled with his knot.

The come down is slow. Neuvillette hangs over him until his knot subsides, errantly stroking his cock with a light-handed touch. He pulls off and ignores the mess, going straight for the muzzle wrapped around Wriothesley's face. Neuvillette tugs at the leather, unlatching it, the bit coming away dripping with drool.

"Embarrassing," murmurs Wriothesley, forcing himself to ignore it.

Neuvillette chuckles, tossing it to the side and reaching for Wriothesley's wrists next. With the click of a key one falls away, and then the other. Neuvillette massages a wrist. "A bruise," he says, tugging it to his mouth for a kiss.

"Mhmn, yeah, I pulled at them a bit. Nothing I can't handle. Nothing that I wouldn't want to."

"Sweet thing." Neuvillette kisses the other wrist, this one a little less bruised but still marked up. And then he moans, a breathy sound as Wriothesley's hand slides between them to squeeze at his flagging dick. "That's—"

"Did I look that good?" Wriothesley squeezes at Neuvillette's knot gently, tracing the curve of it. "I'm always flattered when I see this."

"Wriothesley—"

"Are you going to kiss me or not? Haven't I been good for you?"

Neuvillette kisses him immediately, tongue slipping between his lips to deepen it. Wriothsesley laughs against his mouth. They swallow each other's sounds, lost in the aftercare, sweet and soft as they just... enjoy the moment.

"Do I still get that kettle of tea?" asks Wriothesley when they finally part. "Do we still get to wind down? Can I brush your hair?"

"I'm supposed to take care of you."

"You asked me how I am, but how are you?" Wriothesley thumbs at the base of Neuvillette's cock. "I know that I tease you about it but you don't often..."

Neuvillette is quiet for a long moment. There's that dragon-eyed stare again, as he hangs over Wriothesley, boxing him against the sheets. "I think that it is fairly obvious that I am doing very well," he says dryly.

They stay like that until his knot subsides. Neuvillette peels away with a groan, everything tacky and messy.

"A bath," says Wriothesley. "Go make some tea and I'll start a bath."

"And this?" Wriothesley turns to find the muzzle hanging from Neuvillette's fingertip much like it had earlier in the night.

Wriothesley's gaze turns fond. "We wash it and then it gets put away."

"For another time?"

"Do I detect a request there, Sweetheart?"

Neuvillette's jaw tenses, suddenly embarrassed. "I... Well—" He clears his throat. "Yes."

A bath is drawn. Neuvillette has gotten better at brewing tea but still oversteeps the leaves. The water is nearly too hot. They barely fit, Wriothesley's tub made for only one full-grown man, not two, but he craves the closeness nonetheless.

"I love you," says Neuvillette again once they're settled, chin resting against Wriothesley's shoulder.

Wriothesley's alpha churrs in his chest, content.