Wriothesely warms Neuvillette's cock as they brew tea to share.

CW: Smut

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"Neuv—"

"The tea," cuts in Neuvillette, his voice a purr in Wriothesley's ear. "You haven't yet had a sip."

He rests his chin against the slope of Wriothesley's shoulder, face tilted just so that he can kiss his flushed skin if he wishes. Before them is a tea set neatly arranged on his desk. Two steaming cups of tea, a crisp black brew with steeped citrus, steam billowing in clouds from the expensive porcelain.

Neuvillette's fingers curl around a handle slowly and with an exaggerated flourish. He smooths a thumb around the rim, tracing gold leaf and intricately painted designs. Once, twice, and then a third time. Wriothesley stares, counting each movement, every drag of that thumb, grounding himself in—

"Wriothesley?"

Sweat beads on his brow and drips down his neck. His collar is damp. Neuvillette nuzzles the skin there, his fangs a tease as they drag over across it. And then they're gone as he turns his attention to the damned tea again.

"Are you so distracted?"

Wriothesley laughs, a sharp bark of a sound. And then he moans, hips shifting, because yes, he's fucking distracted. Neuvillette acts as if his cock isn't lodged deep in his ass; as if it isn't the perfect girth to stretch him deliciously wide, or the right length to feel perfectly fool.

He came for some tea and Neuvillette made it into a game. "Why don't you sit on my lap and we make up for lost time," he'd said as he kissed him sweetly and opened him up on those splendidly long fingers. And Wriothesley gave in as he often does, a slave to those sweeping touches, and the way that Neuvillette dresses himself down in their moments alone.

"I tease, of course," continues Neuvillette. He kisses the shell of his ear and Wriothesley feels the smile that curls his lips. Devilish. He shudders at the warm breath the puffs against his skin, smelling like citrus and honey of the tea. "I am well aware of your struggle. You smell—" He pauses, pressing his nose against Wriothesley's temple for a whiff and groans. But, he doesn't continue that train of thought. "I bought this tea for you," says Neuvillette instead. "It would be a pity for you to waste it."

"You've got to be kidding me." Wriothesley's voice cracks. Neuvillette pulls far enough back to watch his throat bob as he swallows. Fuck, this is both the best and the worst.

Tea time spent together turned into a booty call? Check. Especially if it's at the behest of Neuvillette. Wriothesley is usually the driving force of their more hands-on encounters, so any time that Neuvillette is the one to take the reins instead... well. Yes. Instant erection. Easy way into his trousers, or, in this case, his ass.

But. But—

Neuvillette leans forward and his cock shifts, easing through Wriothesley to settle just a little deeper. Wriothesley moans, letting out the sort of noise that isn't just embarrassing, it's wholly mortifying down to his bones. He wriggles, swiveling his hips to ease the pressure of Neuvillette's cock inside him. His own dick aches. It burns, desperate for more than just sitting there untouched. He needs to be bent over this desk and fucked.

"Neuvillette, please—"

"A cruel thing to snub my gift so easily." Neuvillette's hand slides down his side, teasing muscles through his shirt. It comes to a stop at his hip. His fingers curl tightly around the bone and stills him with a grip so strong that Wriothesley feels his joints creak.

"I'm going to—"

Come. Or die. Something in between. He's so full. It feels so good, but it isn't enough. And Neuvillette's teasing—Gods, it makes it worse. To have that crooning timbre hot in his ear. The way that Neuvillette murmurs his name makes Wriothesley's gut curl, and he's reminded just why he gives in so easily. Such trust is rare for him, but all Neuvillette has to do is thumb over his hand and make a request, and Wriothesley just falls into his lap.

"Just a sip." Another request, this one soft-handed and sweet. Neuvillette kisses his temple and massages his hip.

Wriothesley wheezes in response. "You feel—"

"No doubt just as good as you do." Another inhale, another press of Neuvillette's nose against his skin. "Weren't you the one who wanted to be good for me?"

"I'd thought I'd be good for you and make some tea." Oh, how his words have come back to haunt him.

Wriothesley groans, and says, "I wanted to make you tea—"

"And you did. And I watched as you did, unable to keep my eyes off of you. Effortlessly handsome as you poured out the water. I couldn't help but pull you into my lap." Wriothesley lets out a broken sound, a semblance of Neuvillette's name, which only goads him more.

"We'll make up for lost time," he'd said as Wriothesley's ass yielded so easily around the tip of his cock. "You can warm my cock as this brews."

Neuvillette's hand slips between his legs, tracing the soft skin of his inner thigh. And then a finger down his length, wet with precome as it traces the vein there. "Just a sip. Be good for me, beloved. We'll share that tea and then I'll fuck you against this desk."

Wriothesley doesn't think he's ever moved so fast. His hands shake as he reaches for the cup. And he knows Neuvillette expects propriety, he'll demand it even. A game. It's all a game to him, and Wriothesley will happily play along if it means seeing that teasing smile.

Fingers curl around the handle of the teacup. His other hand plucks the saucer from the table, and he somehow manages to lift both. Right as he sips, Neuvillette moves, just a gentle roll of his hips. Wriothesley nearly spits out his tea—but he holds it. Swallows it. Lets the taste of bergamot and lemon sink into his tongue, teasing his taste buds. He's about to put it down when Neuvillette's hand catches his wrist.

"Another," he mutters, tilting the cup back to Wriothesley's face. "Ideally, the whole thing."

"You said a sip—"

"So desperate for me." Neuvillette sounds pleased by that. "I love to see it. But I also love having my cock settled deep as you enjoy this tea. So handsome when split open for me."

Wriothesley drinks the damn tea. He shudders and shakes, fingers white-knuckled around the porcelain so tightly that he thinks he may break it, but he drinks it. And Neuvillette watches him the entire time with a heated, half-lidded gaze that all but devours him.

He commends his patience. Neuvillette pretends to have a blunted affect, to be calm about the way Wriothesley sits on his cock, squeezing it dry, but he's stretched even thinner than Wriothesley. Neuvillette pets his thighs, claws dragging down the length of them over and over. Hyperaware as his gaze remains pinned to the cup, Wriothesley's face, his throat as he swallows.

Time crawls as he drains the cup. Wriothesley sets it down delicately. He tilts his head and opens his mouth, showing that there's nothing left, tongue lolling out. Neuvillette is quick to cup his chin and tamp it down with his thumb. He tastes like the tea leaves, citrus having melted into his skin, settling there just like his cock, thick in Wriothesley's gut.

"Was it good?"

"Yes."

A soft hum as Neuvillette bends close. "Another cup?"

"I'll strangle you." It comes out as a growl—and really, Wriothesley doesn't mean to be so aggressive, but he's beyond the point of no return. The pleasure hasn't just settled in his being, it's been set aflame, nerves so alive that he feels as if he's on fire. The pressure against his prostate is so intense that it trips into overstimulation. His cock aches so much that it hurts, legs shaking as it twitches between his thighs.

"A promise or a threat? Both have their appeal." Neuvillette kisses him with praise. "You were so good for me. This time I'll do as I promised."

He leans forward, standing from the chair. Wriothesley goes down, splayed over the desk, ass up and back arched. Neuvillette gives him one swift thrust and they both groan.

"Fuck, that's what I want. Please." Wriothesley is still too clothed, his trousers caught around his thighs, trapping his legs. Neuvillette too, the material of his trousers rough against his backside. But he finally fucks him with long, measured thrusts that give him the friction, the slick drag he's been begging for since the beginning.

Wriothesley presses back, bracing himself against the desk and using it as leverage. The tea cups tinkle as they rock against each other, jarred by every heavy thrust. Neuvillette's cock carves through him, the pull and drag through his insides enough to see stars. Wriothesley falls against the desk with a shudder. His thighs tremble as he's pushed closer to the edge with every rock of Neuvillette's length.

"Look at you." Neuvillette leans back and spreads his asscheeks to watch how his cock slides in so easily. He thumbs over where they're connected, tracing his pink and swollen rim. Wriothesley moans, hiding his face in the crook of his elbow, feeling too bare, too exposed. "Just like I said—you look so good split open like this."

His arousal crashes into him like a wave. Wriothesley is so needy, so close to the edge already that he comes untouched. He spills all over the floor with a cry of Neuvillette's name. It is both a relief and almost painful, the sort of orgasm that has taken so long that he isn't even sure if it's satisfying.

But what is, is Neuvillette's hand against his back, tracing the lower notches of his spine. How Neuvillette gasps and fucks him faster, harder, with less rhythm. "Just like that," he mutters, dragging Wriothesley back into him, the tip of his cock nailing that bundle of nerves every time.

And fuck, this is good. Wriothesley feels raw, plucked dry, tears leaking at the corners of his eyes in his overstimulation. "More," he hisses. "Gods, yes. Neuvillette."

Neuvillette plasters himself against Wriothesley's back, his weight pinning him to the desk. He ruts against him harshly, his pace taking on a biting edge. Wriothesley's cock twitches with renewed interest. He jerks, his arm swinging to the side into the tea set.

Porcelain crashes to the ground. Tea spills. Neuvillette yanks Wriothesley into him, grinding his cock deep and spilling himself. His hand slips around Wriothesley's front and curls around his cock. Wriothesley curses, fucking into his grasp, desperate for a second orgasm.

Neuvillette chuckles into his ear. "Greedy," he chastises, licking the shell of it. "Were you so worked up you want to come again?"

"Fuck, I—you." Wriothesley can barely think. His brain is hazy as he barrels towards a second orgasm, cock leaking all over Neuvillette's hand. His throat is dry, the tang of the tea still across his tongue, and all he can think of is licking into Neuvillette's mouth to taste more.

He comes again with a pitiful whine and a jerk of his hips. Neuvillette strokes him through it, hand covered in his come, thin and watery. "There's a good boy," he murmurs, licking a stripe down the length of his neck, tasting him, nibbling at Wriothesley's skin.

Wriothesley is spent. Done. In so many ways.

Neuvillette eases his cock out slowly, come splashing to the ground in a puddle. "My tea set," he says, a little morosely. And then, with a sigh, "Sedene will be annoyed at the mess."

Wriothesley turns to find it on the floor in a haphazard heap of broken pieces. He winces. Casualties of mindblowing sex. "Ah... sorry."

"No, it's..." Neuvillette sighs fondly. "I suppose that I asked for it, hm?"

"Sweetheart—"

"Wriothesley."

He frowns. Neuvillette will come around to the pet name. One day.

Neuvillette hums, dragging his hand down Wriothesley's backside before spreading his asscheeks for one last look at his wrecked hole. The gentle sweep of his fingers over his swollen rim has Wriothesley's breath hitching. "Let's clean up, hm? And then we'll share a proper cup of tea. I do wish to actually enjoy one."

Clean-up is minimal. The tea set is left on the ground to be taken care of later. Neuvillette wipes him down with wandering fingers, leaving Wriothesley to wonder what's got him in such a mood. It isn't that he is never like this, but from the moment he arrived, Neuvillette has been particularly... attentive.

Wriothesley is tugging his trousers back on when Neuvillette places another tea set onto the desk, this one older and clearly less used. It's decorated with cutesy designs of dragons geared towards a more childlike sentimentality than his usual stern taste.

Neuvillette catches his gaze. "A gift from our esteemed leader," he says dryly.

"Ah. Yeah, that explains it."

They settle into the couch in the corner once a new batch is brewed, tucked close together, shoulders touching, knees knocking together. The tea is good now that Wriothesley can properly taste it, lightly floral but holding nice depth.

He makes a face as he cups his hands around the mug. "Say, are you—" Wriothesley looks at Neuvillette to find him watching back curiously. "You're okay, right? I'm not complaining but you usually aren't so..." He waves vaguely.

Neuvillette's expression morphs into something amused. "Do I need a reason to want to enjoy you?"

"Well no—" Wriothesley stops dead as Neuvillette dips close, his mouth near his ear.

"Do I need a reason for you to warm my cock?"

"No."

Neuvillette chuckles and plants a short kiss against his lips before leaning back. He watches Wriothesley with warm, affectionate eyes. "I have my playful moods. Today is a good day, made only better when you stepped through the doors."

"So think nothing of it."

"No, you should think of it often. Don't you want a repeat performance?"

Wriothesley's mouth falls open in surprise. "I—are you flirting?"

"Have I gotten better at it?"

Yes, but he doesn't need to be told that. Neuvillette's smug smile behind his cup speaks volumes. Wriothesley's expression fades into something fond. "Well, if it means I get more tea like this." He takes another dramatic sip from his cup.

This is, for all intents and purposes, what he dreamed of earlier in the day. Just sharing tea together in the mid-afternoon. Wriothesley is always up for it turning licentious in nature, but, sometimes, the point is just to sit and soak up each other's presence.

Neuvillette reaches out and brushes his bangs back. "What my beloved asks for, my beloved gets," he says, bemused, and Wriothesley gives him a blinding smile before kissing his palm.