Neuvillette is more than willing to clean up his messes.

CW: Contains Smut

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"You like to stare, don't you? Enjoying the mess that you made?"

Yes. Yes. Wriothesley teases him but Wriothesley also has no idea what he looks like when haloed in the glow of post-orgasmic bliss. Even spent, Neuvillette cannot stop looking, eyes washing over the curve of Wriothesley's back. His hand follows, tracing the knobs of Wriothesley's spine, claws dragging over sweaty skin and scars.

Pale scales shimmer, evidence of just how far he's gone, of how needy he'd been when fucking Wriothesley. And now that cycle continues as he stares, watching his semen drip from his pink, abused hole.

Wriothesley fidgets. "I should go—"

Neuvillette holds him in place firmly. Wriothesley hovers over his lap, balancing himself against Neuvillette's thighs, fingers digging into the meat of them. "Hey," he continues, shooting a glance over his shoulder, "I need to clean up before—"

"Before what?" Neuvillette's palm settles against an asscheek, squeezing at it.

"It'll congeal—"

Neuvillette hums, ignoring that horrific word, and slides a thumb down the crease of Wriothesley's ass. He spreads him open, taking that damned look he was teased about before. Wriothesley is loose, well-fucked, and leaking his come. That thumb circles, pressing against Wriothesley's rim, sinking in to the first knuckle. "Soft," murmurs Neuvillette in awe, tugging at the muscle, watching it spread eagerly.

"Neuvillette, that's—"

"Delightful."

"Look, I know I poked fun, but I'm serious about cleaning up—"

"Then allow me," offers Neuvillette. Wriothesley stills. His gaze turns cat-eyed and sultry, which is a gaze that only spells trouble. Neuvillette tugs at his hips and politely requests, "Come here, please."

Wriothesley shuffles back until he's settled across Neuvillette's chest, balls resting against his sternum. "What's going on in that old fish brain of yours?"

Neuvillette shoots him a cool look. "Fish brain," he drawls, less than amused. He sweeps his thumb through the mess that dribbles from Wriothesley's ass in globs. It is stupid; this particular instinct, the innate desire to see his mate covered in his spend, tacky with it, smelling of it, but Neuvillette cannot help it.

Still.

"I was going to clean you up myself, but if you're going to make fun of me—"

"I'd rather call it an affectionate jab."

"Affectionate or not..."

Wriothesley wiggles his hips and Neuvillette trails off, distracted. This, too, cannot be helped. Neuvillette is a simple man and enjoys Wriothesley's rather... generous backside.

"Is this where I should make a joke about how you should eat cake—"

"Wriothesley." Neuvillette squeezes both of his asscheeks and tugs him even closer. "Wriothesley," he murmurs right before sinking his teeth into the meat of Wriothesley's ass.

A sharp yelp fills the air. Wriothesley's nails dig into Neuvillette's thigh, but despite his cry, he bucks back against his mouth. A glutton for punishment and a mild amount of pain. Neuvillette loves the taste of this skin and the pinpricks left behind by his teeth. Marks—oh, he loves to leave marks, even in places where no one else will see them. He'll know, and he'll trace them later, dragging his fingers across the bruises left in his wake.

Neuvillette pulls back to lap at the spot, soothing the tender flesh with his tongue. His thumb slips into that crease again, circling Wriothesley's abused rim. "You took me so well," he whispers into heated flesh. "Beloved, you always take me so well. You tease me for staring but you do not see yourself, you have no idea how you look spread around my cock. Or, the aftermath of it, so pretty and loose."

"That's—oh."

Neuvillette's tongue slides along the underside of his balls, tracing their curve. Heavy, despite Wriothesley having already spent himself. Drawn tightly against his body, which makes Neuvillette nip at them gently. He laves at their seam and kisses the smooth skin of Wriothesley's perineum next, fangs dragging over the space.

Wriothesley moans. Bucks his hips back with a soft groan which makes Neuvillette smile. So quick to give in, so eager to chase more pleasure despite his earlier protests. Wriothesley doesn't look over his shoulder anymore, his eyes are closed as he balances carefully against Neuvillette's solid form, taking what he is given, and sinking right back into their lovemaking as if it never paused.

Neuvillette looks again, spreading Wriothesley open like a feast. A soft, puffy rim, slicked with his come, ripe for the taking. Neuvillette's tongue drags against this spot next, tracing Wriothesley's swollen entrance gently. Another groan as he laps up his mess, cleaning him up just as Neuvillette promised. And then a choked-off gasp when that tongue sinks in, and in, and in—

"Fuck," hisses Wriothesley, shuddering against him. His cock hangs between his legs, half-hard with renewed interest.

A victory. Neuvillette's thumbs smooth over the soft globes of his ass, holding him open for better leverage. His too-long tongue curls through Wriothesley's insides, tracing his walls, teasing those warm depths as it fucks back and forth. Slick, wet, and full of his come. A cleaning, yes, because Neuvillette is dutiful to his mate. He can bear the ocean-salt taste of his spend if it means feeling Wriothesley squeeze tight around his tongue.

"You—you're—"

Neuvillette is nothing and Wriothesley is everything. He pulls that tongue back and kisses the swell of Wriothseley's ass, relishing in the annoyed grunt as his pleasure is cut short. "Perfect," he says, laying down another kiss, and then another as his thumb slips back in to pull at his hole. Testing the give, watching swallows the digit right in. "This is what I mean," he muses. "Eager, desperate. Tell me, Wriothesley, do you want more? Can I drag another out of you?"

"Yes. Yes." All that earlier bravado is gone. Wriothesley isn't thinking about the mess anymore, or the awkwardness of sitting against Neuvillette's face; he's only thinking about his tongue and getting off, annoyed by the ache of his new erection. He palms at it, squeezing the tip, thumbing over the wetness there.

"A mess," teases Neuvillette, "that's what you said I'd made—but look at yours."

"That's—"

"More, Sweetheart," he finishes, tossing that insufferable pet name right back at Wriothesley. And then his tongue sinks back in alongside his thumb, fucking into Wriothesley with lazy, languid movements.

"Archons—Ow—" Wriothesley hisses when the claws of Neuvillette's other hand sink into the round of his thigh.

Blasphemous, calling out to other gods. No, no, Neuvillette won't have that. There's only one name that should be called out in their den. His tongue curves, flicking across the swollen bud of Wriothesley's prostate.

"Oh, oh—" Wroithesley hisses again, but this time in pleasure, his head hanging low as the sound melts into a moan. He fucks back, angling just so Neuvillette's tongue stays there. A chuckle. Those claws loosen their grip, turning sweet as he guides Wriothesley to move against him, to use the rise and fall of his hips to ride his tongue.

Another flick against that bundle of nerves has Wriothesley's thighs shaking. He reaches back, pressing his hand against Neuvillette's scalp, fingers curling into his hair to pull. Wriothesley rolls against him as he holds his face there. Come sloshes against Neuvillette's tongue, and Sovereigns, it satisfies an old itch to taste himself so deep.

Neuvillette covets this, covets Wriothesley as he devours his ass. A clean-up indeed. There's nothing left now aside from the grip of Wriothesley's rim, tight around Neuvillette's tongue as it fucks in and out. Wriothesley groans when Neuvillette pulls away, shoving two, three fingers into his sopping hole.

"I'd like to hear you call my name," he purrs, licking up the sweat that clings to the back of Wriothesley's thigh.

The answer is quick, immediate, rolling off of Wriothesley's tongue unbidden. "Neuvillette," he cries out, scrabbling against his thighs. "Neuvillette, please," he begs, and, because he's been good, Neuvillette sweeps his fingers across his prostate before digging into the gland.

Wriothesley comes with a short spurt against his chest. His ass clenches like a vice grip as he rolls through another orgasm, his cock wrung nearly to the point of being dry.

Neuvillette's fingers spread his rim gently. "Another mess," he sighs, trailing his free hand through the spend that now coats his sternum. "Should I make you clean up, this time?"

Wriothesley pulls away and turns around until he's hovering over him properly. His face is pinked, flush across the nose. His eyes are too sharp, and Neuvillette thinks that if he's so aware, he hasn't done a proper job of pulling him to the edge. Another maybe, another. Perhaps he should wring Wriothesley's cock until he's coming dry and begging for it to end.

That devilish smirk carves its way across Wriothesley's face, a wicked grin that spells trouble as he dips low and licks his semen from Neuvillette's heated skin. And lower, and lower—until Neuvillette shifts, curls a hand underneath Wriothesley's armpit, and tugs him back up.

Wriothesley falls against him, chest to chest. "Tuckered out?"

Neuvillette huffs, and when Wriothesley leans in for a kiss, he stops him with the flat of his palm. "A bath," says Neuvillette. "We should laze about in the bath."

"But I—"

"I'll let you wash my hair."

Wriothesley's mouth snaps shut. That is one of the things he cannot say no to. He loves to drag his fingers through the long strands, lathering them, massaging away Neuvillette's worries. "That's unfair."

Neuvillette hums. "Still needy, hm? Be a good boy and perhaps I'll ravish you again later."

"Ravish," parrots Wriothesley, the skin around his eyes wrinkling. "Boy. You know it'll be my bedtime by then. These old bones can barely keep up. Also, that kiss—"

Neuvillette kisses the tip of his nose, his forked tongue slipping out just enough to lick the tip.

Wriothesley frowns and says, "That isn't what I meant."

"I know," replies Neuvillette.

"And that's where you're going to leave it?"

No, of course not. Neuvillette cups his cheek and gives him a sweet kiss next, just a peck of their mouths. He then squeezes Wriothesley's chin in warning when he tries to deepen it. "A bath, I do think I requested." Neuvillette's breath is hot as it mingles against Wriothesley's mouth. "I would like for my mate to tend to me."

He knows it's unfair. Wriothesley lets loose a soft whine, unable to deny that request too. But it's worth it, later, when they're shoulder deep in the tub, Wriothesley's nails dragging through his hair.

"So many messes," says Wriothesley as water splashes over the edge.

This one though, they choose to ignore, the floor deemed a lost cause.