Neuvillette works through an unexpected rut and Wriothesley gets egged in his office.

CW: Contains Smut and... Eggs. 

--

Neuvillette is stressed, Wriothesley can tell by the line pinched between his brows

He will never admit to it. Wriothesley will have to drag it from his mouth by way of distraction. He hums as he cups Neuvillette's cheeks, thumbing over the sharp bones there. "Sweetheart, are you okay?"

Neuvillette grunts, ever annoyed with the pet name. But he kisses him back at least, sweetly, languidly, humming softly as his tongue traces the seam of Wriothesley's lips. "I am..."

"Bothered? I can tell," teases Wriothesley.

"I am not bothered." Neuvillette's tone is flat but the same cannot be said about his cock. That should have been red-flag number one—Wriothesley may be quick to react in such a way but it takes coaxing Neuvillette into more sordid matters. The last time he was so overt with his affection, trousers tight with an erection was—

Wriothesley stills. He pulls back, tilting Neuvillette's face by the chin. "Why are you here? Why are you not home in bed?"

Neuvillette's mouth falls open. "It is nothing—"

"You're rutting," cuts in Wriothesley with a frown. "You should be on vacation and bending me over every surface available."

"I didn't—I wasn't—" Neuvillette's eyes pinch closed as he gives Wriothesley an almost pained look. "My cycles were always regular until you came along. And now—"

"Oh, so you're blaming this on me?"

Neuvillette snorts softly. He dips closer, pressing his face against Wriothesley's neck. "I am to blame," he murmurs, his breath fanning across Wriothesley's skin. He nips at a spot right above his collar. "I want you too much. I always need you."

"I like it when you're needy."

"Of course you do," muses Neuvillette. "That being said, I cannot be taking so many days off so frequently—"

"Why not?" Neuvillette's expression sours. Control freak. "Hey, sweetheart—"

"Wriothesley."

"Sedene has told you to delegate. I've told you to delegate. You have assistants, so delegate."

Neuvillette would. Oh, would he, but—

"It's a slippery slope," comes the soft reply. "If I were to take off so readily, I would never return to work. I would steal you away, and I'd—"

"Bend me over every surface? Neuvillette, if you want me so badly, just say so." A goading tease, one that causes Neuvillette to mouth at his neck harder, sucking a bruise just underneath his jawline. "Joking aside," continues Wriothesley, petting over Neuvillette's hair, "how bad is it?"

"It's manageable." Neuvillette hides his face in the crook of Wriothesley's shoulder though, moaning softly. Oh, poor, wretched thing. Wriothesley knows that it won't be manageable for long.

"Hm, do you want a breather?" he asks."Just to take the edge off? I'm betting that you can't focus on your paperwork."

Neuvillette pulls back and cups Wriothesley's face. He looks at him, eyes glazed over with heat, with lust, and Wriothesley is already weak in the knees. For all his teasing he's gone too, a poor soul awash at the thought of Neuvillette's rut. It isn't just about wanting a good fuck, it's his job as his partner, his mate.

"Beloved," says Neuvillette, close enough that they share breath, "it can wait."

"I'm sure that it can, but it doesn't need to." Wriothesley's hand drops to cradle Neuvillette's cock against his palm. "What do you want?"

Neuvillette is torn—he's always so torn about getting handsy in his office but Wriothesley knows that he has him. "You," he admits. "I want you, however you want, however you wish. A breather you said—yes, please."

Wriothesley cracks a grin. "Sweet thing," he says, throwing back the same sort of dirty talk that Neuvillette indulges in. "Alright, you just sit there. I'll take care of you. No—don't say anything."

Neuvillette's mouth snaps shut as he tries to relax in his chair, but he's keyed up, and when Wriothesley sinks between his thighs, he jumps at the pressure of a hand against his thigh. A curse whistles through the air as Wriothesley leans forward and presses his face against his clothed erection. It twitches underneath the fabric, and Wriothesley shoots him a crooked grin as he fumbles with the openings of his trousers.

"This looks painful," he mutters, pulling out Neuvillette's cock and letting it rest against his hand. Hefty. Thick and long. Wriothesley sighs as he gives it a stroke, watching precome pool at the tip.

"It's—hah." Neuvillette goes taut as Wriothesley wraps his mouth around the head, giving it a suck. Wriothesley loves the sound of him and the way that he muffles a cry behind his gloved hand.

"How long have you been like this?" asks Wriothesley, tonguing at the slit, tasting the salty brine of Neuvillette's precome. He doesn't expect an answer, but Neuvillette gives him one.

"All morning," he says. "I woke up—just like that." Neuvillette's hand flies to the back of Wriothesley's head as he sinks onto his cock. Then he pushes, guiding his cock deeper into Wriothesley's mouth until the tip is bullying the back of his throat.

Wriothesley moans as Neuvillette's grip tightens, his fingers tugging slightly at his hair. Oh, he's so needy. Wriothesley had known, he could tell. Just like that, said Neuvillette. Rare words. Neuvillette so rarely tells him exactly what he wants, what he needs. Heat sparks in Wriothesley's gut, spreading through his veins.

He sucks, hollowing his cheeks around Neuvillette's thick cock, earning him a whine. Neuvillette shudders in the chair. "Wriothesley," he hisses, holding onto his head with a death grip. "Let me—please, let me—"

Wriothesley laughs around him, bobbing his head, drawing back to kiss the tip. "Do you want to fuck my mouth? Baby, you can do that, you know that you don't need to ask." And that's all it takes—permission, and Wriothesley swallowing his cock again for Neuvillette to buck his hips.

It's hard and fast. Neuvillette groans, bucking into Wriothesley's mouth, the head of his cock sliding against his palate. He curses, brushing Wriothesley's bangs back, savoring the sight of him choking on his dick. "Beautiful. My mate, my beloved. Just like that—just like that."

His end comes quickly. It's the rut, or the neediness, or being keyed up for hours, but all it takes is a few more thrusts into Wriothesley's mouth, and he's coming down his throat in thick ropes. Wriothesley swallows it, moaning at the taste, and the feel of it. And Neuvillette watches with wide eyes and blown pupils.

But he seems calmer, more alert.

Wriothesley pops off of his cock, giving it one last stroke—and already it's half-hard again. Neuvillette lets loose an embarrassed moan. "Better?" he asks.

"I—" A pause as Neuvillette drags a hand down his face. "Yes. For now."

"I came here because I thought you'd be stressed. Imagine my surprise that you're working through a rut." Wriothesley doesn't mean to sound so accusatory but now that Neuvillette is capable of rational thought, he can't help but dig in.

"I didn't know—"

"You did by the time you got here, I'm sure." Wriothesley gives him a cross look from where he still kneels between Neuvillette's thighs.

"Sedene's workload is stacked."

"You know that she loves to meddle. And she'd happily meddle if it means making sure you're feeling okay."

Neuvillette looks positively aggrieved. "She would not. You know how she is about—"

"Our booty-calls?"

"Wriothesley."

Wriothesley laughs and rests his cheek against Neuvillette's thigh. "This is different though. She'd send you home if she knew, and that's why you didn't say anything—and why you've made her drop all your paperwork off at the door. Ah. Don't give me that look—" Because Neuvillette's gaze is narrowed and mildly annoyed. "She told me that you've been giving her the cold shoulder."

Neuvillette's cock finally softens to a half-chub. "The edge," he says, "has been taken off, as you said. Now, I have to get back to work. And you—"

"Have just decided to take the rest of the day off. And tomorrow. However long you need." Because this ends in one way and one way only—they go home and Neuvillette fucks him against every surface of their home. Neuvillette hesitates, enough so that Wriothesley worries for a moment. "Sweetheart?"

"What I would give to leave this instant. How I need you. How I—" Neuvillette groans, rubbing at his face. "I'm not yet into the thick of it. Allow me to work until I cannot anymore."

That, Wriothesley can agree to. "I've got you," he says. "I'm not going anywhere." And then he has a thought, one that comes with a quirk of his mouth that has Neuvillette giving him a shrewd look. Wriothesley's gaze tilts to his cock once more. "How do you feel about me warming your cock?"

Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and Wriothesley knows it's a yes. He dips closer, nosing across the length of his clothed thigh, biting at the fabric. "Yeah," says Wriothesley, "it sounds like you want that. Let me."

Wriothesley slots his mouth around Neuvillette's cock, letting it settle against his tongue. Soft and warm. He hums softly, melting into his lap, and finding a comfortable position to sit in. Neuvillette moans softly, satisfied, and somehow manages to turn back to his work.

#

"Wriothesley." Neuvillette's hand falls to his head, causing him to stir. He no longer wears his gloves, claws scraping across Wriothesley's scalp. Wriothesely moans at the touch and Neuvillette's cock fills out in his mouth, hardening in an instant.

Oh.

He pulls off and asks, "What time is it?"

"Late enough," says Neuvillette. "You rested the day away between my legs with my cock in your mouth." His face is flushed and heated. His eyes are glassy, and he just pets and pets Wriothesley's hair. That look. Wriothesley knows that look—it's one of a dragon barely hanging on.

"Are you even going to make it home?" asks Wriothesley, utterly serious.

"I'm—I don't think that I..."

Wriothesley stands, adjusting his trousers, and then leans his ass against Neuvillette's desk. He drags Neuvillette's chair close until he's settled between his thighs. "Here then," says Wriothesley, resting his arms against Neuvillette's shoulders.

Neuvillette leans close, his chair creaking underneath him as his weight shifts. His forehead falls against Wriothesley's belly with a soft whine. "It hurts," he murmurs. "I need you, beloved."

Wriothesley combs his fingers through Neuvillette's hair. "I know you do." His eyes flicker to the clock on the wall. "This late there won't be anyone else here."

"I'd rather have you in my bed." Neuvillette tugs at Wriothesley's waistcoat, then his shirt, pulling it from his trousers. "It'd smell of us, of you. You'd want for naught. I'd breed you full and take care of you."

"But?"

Neuvillette's hand slips underneath the hem of his shirt. A cool palm presses flat against his side, sliding across his heated flesh. "It is as you said. I won't make it home—we won't make it home. I need you so badly I'd fuck you in an alleyway."

Oh. Oh. Wriothesley's cock twitches at the thought. "Neuvillette you can't say shit like that."

"I will. I have—and I would. Fuck you in an alleyway. Or the hallway. Or—"

"Fuck me here," cuts in Wriothesley, "on your desk."

Neuvillette doesn't need to be told twice. He moves quickly, needily, pulling at Wriothesley's trousers, his clothing, freeing his skin and his cock. Neuvillette's hand is cool around him.

Wriothesley spreads his thighs for easier access. "You don't need to—"

"Nonsense," says Neuvillette, nuzzling the inside of his thigh. He nibbles the skin there, fangs dragging across the meat of his leg. He doesn't need to, but oh, Wriothesley wants. And Neuvillette knows that judging by the look he gives him, those pale eyes glancing up through those dangerously long lashes. "I want to taste you," he murmurs, pulling Wriothesley's trousers down around his ankles. "I desire you—all of you."

He suckles the base of Wriothesley's cock, tongue slipping out to lick from root to the tip. Blue—his tongue is blue and forked as it swirls around the head. Neuvillette tastes him, lapping at the precome that drips from the tip.

Wriothesley leans back on an elbow. "Neuvillette," he groans, pulling at his hair. "I don't want to come like this. I want—"

"I want you to." Neuvillette wraps his hand around the base of his dick and gives it a stroke. So different from his own hand, callused and scarred hand. Neuvillette kisses the tip and then swallows him down. He isn't as good at this, or as practiced, covering the rest of Wriothesely's length with his hand. But the tight heat of his mouth is enough for Wriothesley to come right then and there, spilling against Neuvillette's face as he pulls back.

Neuvillette looks like a fiend, his eyes half-lidded and sultry. He scoops Wriothesley's come away from his face and tastes it, that devilish forked tongue swirling around his knuckles. He's gone, slipped deep enough into his rut that Wriothesley knows his patience will be worn thin.

"So good for me," purrs Neuvillette when his face has been wiped clean. "I've been patient."

"Yeah, you've—" Wriothesley groans as Neuvillette dips forward again to nuzzle his belly. "Been—patient. You've been—"

He has not been nearly enough, not when the promise is getting bent over and fucked within an inch of his life. Wriothesley whines, leaning back against the desk, pulling a thigh to his chest. "Neuvillette—"

"Presenting yourself for me." Neuvillette watches him with a gaze that isn't mortal, his pale eyes narrowly slit. He presses a hand against Wriothesley's thigh, dragging his fingertips down the length of it. A thumb dips between the cleft of his asscheeks, sweeping across Wriothesley's hole, just barely pressing against it. "How I've thought about this all day. I woke up, needing you. I've needed you all morning, all afternoon, and now—"

"Please." Wriothesley has been teased too long. He's laid himself out and Neuvillette hasn't yet feasted.

"Wriothesley." Neuvillette mouths at the inside of his thigh. "Beloved."

That tone—Wriothesley knows that tone. One look between his legs shows him the heady expression on Neuvillette's face. "You've been patient," he reminds him. "You've been wanting me all day."

"Yes," agrees Neuvillette. "And I have you here now, spread out before me. Needy—you're just as needy and so I want another."

Wriothesley's mouth goes dry and he swallows around the lump in his throat. Neuvillette is going to drag this out. He's in a mood to tease, to pull him to the edge over and over until Wriothesley is begging to be properly fucked. Only then will he slip in when Wriothesley is loose and pliant, and breed him properly

He'd teased him about not making it home and maybe that was a tease too far. "Your office," says Wriothesley. "We—"

"Are the only ones here this late—isn't that what you said?" Neuvillette chuckles as he throws those words back at him, mouthing at Wriothesley's cock. It twitches, filling out again at the promise of more. "And, you are intimately acquainted with my couch."

Wriothesley is prone to sleeping on it, taking cat naps when Neuvillette is busy with work. "Hurts my back," he whines. "I always wake up with a crick—"

"So I shouldn't bend you over, then?"

"No, no, you should, and you should do it right now."

Neuvillette hums softly, pressing a sweet kiss to the tip of Wriothesley's cock. "No," he says next. The blue tip of his forked tongue laps at the slit, then he suckles, tasting the wetness there. Then down—down his length until he's licking over Wriothesley's balls, tugging one into his mouth.

Wriothesley would claim him a wicked mate but Neuvillette is too deep into his rut to take it well. So he keens instead, moaning a wanton sound. All it does is get Neuvillette to lick across his hole instead, swirling his tongue over the furled entrance.

"I still have to open you up," says Neuvillette.

"You don't—"

"Do you want my cock?"

Wriothesley huffs. "Yes."

Neuvillette's palm grows slick with Hydro, which is always sweet-smelling during his cycle. A finger prods at Wriothesley's hole, sinking in slowly—too slowly. "I know you," says Neuvillette, biting at his thigh, pulling his teeth over his flesh to leave a mark that will bruise. He'll pet it later, run his claws over it, recounting how good Wriothesley was for him. And Wriothesley will love it, he'll beg for more, and Neuvillette will give right into that old song and dance.

"I know you," repeats Neuvillette after losing his train of thought. It's easy when he isn't quite lucid, when he's full of only the thought of breeding Wriothesley. "You'll want both cocks."

Oh. Oh. He didn't—

It shouldn't come as a surprise. Neuvillette's form flickers, eyes glowing in the low lamplight of his office. Outside of his ruts both of his cocks are a rare indulgence that Wriothesley has to beg for, but during it they are expected. Not yet—there's still only one hanging there, heavy and hard against Neuvillette's thigh, but the thought of it has Wriothesley arching from the desk.

Neuvillette's fingers too, as two of them sink in, and then a third too soon, causing Wriothesley to hiss. "You can take it," he soothes, more Hydro dripping from his pores. "You like it like this."

"Yes. Yes—"

Neuvillette's fingers fuck in and out, spreading gently, pulling Wriothesley's rim open and wide. Wriothesley moves, meeting every thrust, forcing them deeper, at a certain angle, and Neuvillette laughs against the crease of his groin. He inhales, purring at Wriothesley's scent, at the feel of his sweat-slick skin, and the neatly trimmed hair. He hooks his fingers, the pads of them sliding across Wriothesley's prostate with a barely there touch.

"Fuck. Neuvillette."

"More?" Wriothesley whines, clamping around his fingers, and Neuvillette clicks his tongue. "Greedy thing. You should watch how you swallow them right down. Do you want more? Less? No, no, just like this."

Gods, he's going to die. Neuvillette never goads him like this. These sorts of teases are a rare sort of indulgence, steeped in his own visceral need to see Wriothesley come undone. Wriothesley's cock is fully hard against his stomach, leaking a mess. It aches, he aches, all of him aches, pull thin and stretched wide as Neuvillette fucks him with his fingers.

"I want—"

"You'll give me another," cuts in Neuvillette, digging his fingers against that bundle of nerves, bullying it incessantly.

Wriothesley goes taut with pleasure. He curses, grinding against Neuvillette's palm, trying to force his own orgasm so he can be wrecked in the way that he wants. Neuvillette wears a caricature of patience but he's anything but; his movements are jerky and he mouths at Wriothesley's skin, marking every inch of it around the cradle of his hips.

Fingers curl inside of him and Wriothesley comes, untouched, spilling across his chest. He whimpers, shaking against the desk, shuddering as Neuvillette's fingers keep pulling across that bundle of nerves. "Wait, wait."

Neuvillette doesn't. He strokes Wriothesley's prostate, milking him straight into overstimulation. It's sweet almost; the barest amount of pressure. Wriothesley's cock is too interested, half-hard, twitching, leaking in a wet stream from the tip. Slick and loose. He's ready, he's so ready.

So he begs, crying out his name. Neuvillette smiles against his skin, and Wriothesley feels the upturn of it against his cock. A gentle kiss to the tip. The sweep of his tongue. That's—it's too much, it isn't enough, it almost hurts, Wriothesley is so overstimulated.

Neuvillette, finally, takes pity. He pulls his fingers free and tells him that he's a good boy, that he's the perfect mate, so pliant and ready. Wriothesley barely hears it, barely feels the tip of Neuvillette's cock as it's pressed to his slack rim.

He thrusts in roughly, right to the base. Neuvillette moans, then, a low and lost sound that makes the heat in Wriothesley's gut curl. His cock is thick and hits all the right spots, and the moment that Wriothesley is full of it, he forgets all about his overstimulation.

"Beloved." And oh, the way that Neuvillette says it, the way that the word drips off his tongue like liquid. He grinds his cock deep and Wriothesley sputters, feeling the press of it in his throat. Neuvillette fucks him not quickly, but with heavy, slow thrusts as he yanks Wriothesley onto his cock. He pulls at him, fingers notched around his hips, claws digging into his skin.

It is a drunken dance. Wriothesley writhes on the desk, raising to meet every sordid roll of Neuvillette's hips. His nails dig into the worn wood, scratching at it, and Neuvillette's chest just rumbles with pleasure as he watches him. A hand falls against Wriothesley's belly, resting there, thinking, imagining.

"You want to breed me, right?" asks Wriothesley, the words half-caught in his throat. Because that's what this is about, right? The fantasy of filling him full of his come and waiting for it to take.

Neuvillette fucks in deep and stills. "What I would give for that," he mutters, lost in his rut so deeply that he'll admit things he never would otherwise. "To see you swollen with an egg. To share that with you, to raise a child. Wriothesley."

He leans close and suddenly it's softer as Neuvillette plasters their chests together. He noses across the length of Wriothesley's neck, inhaling deeply, nipping at his heated flesh. "Divine," he says. "You would be divine. Perfect, full of my clutch. You'd be—" He moans, fucking him earnestly, his cock carving through Wriothesley's insides.

Neuvillette's hand curls around Wriothesley's cock which is half-hard. Wriothesley hisses as he tugs it, bringing it back to life. Wriothesley is still overstimulated to nearly the point of discomfort. But oh, it's too good; the way that Neuvillette fucks him and pulls at his cock.

"Like that," he groans, arching into the touch. "Fuck, yes, yes."

Neuvillette is close too. Wriothesley can tell. He moans against his ear, whispering hot praise, biting at the shell, shuddering against him as he slides deep. "Wriothesley," he whispers, sending chills down Wriothesley's spine. "Sweet boy, beloved thing—what if I told you that my body has prepared an egg?"

Wriothesley stills, his brain short-circuiting. Neuvillette has mentioned this before in past ruts. "Were the timing correct, were I needy enough to breed you in the way I wish, my body would make it so." And not that Wriothesley thought that it was only dirty talk; he'd known it wasn't a joking matter. But he didn't think that Neuvillette's hindbrain would give into the idea of it so readily.

"Neuvillette," he says. "Neuvillette."

"Or, perhaps a proper clutch." Neuvillette's words are hot against his skin as he mouths at the peek of Wriothesley's collarbones. He never even to his shirt off—not properly at least. Suddenly Wriothesley is too hot, too— "You'd have to take both," continues Neuvillette, sighing at the thought of it. "My cocks, I mean. One and then the other, stuffed full in the way that I know you love."

"Be serious. Neuvillette you can't tease me like that—"

"I am not." Neuvillette pulls back just enough to look Wriothesley in the face. It's intimate—more so than how he's balls deep in his ass. He cups Wriothesley's chin gently, dragging his thumb across a chapped bottom lip. "It wouldn't take. I wouldn't... not without a proper conversation, at least. I'm too rut-drunk to make rational decisions, but that doesn't mean fun cannot be had."

"Yes," blurts Wriothesley. "I—well—"

Neuvillette laughs, his chest rumbling with the sound. "What a perfect mate," he says, kissing Wriothesley, tongue sneaking past his lips to lick into his mouth. He fucks him again, rocking into him languidly, drinking up the sound of Wriothesley's moans. "Are you going to come again? I want to feel it."

He can. Wriothesley can, so he wraps his hand around his cock as Neuvillette kisses him stupid, and strokes himself to completion. And then Neuvillette tumbles over the edge shortly after, filling Wriothesley with wet-hot warmth, filling him to the brim.

Neuvillette looks. At his stomach. Rucks up his shirt and presses a hand against his belly, and suddenly Wriothesley knows that he will not leave this office without being egged up. A novel experience, one that should probably take place somewhere other than Neuvillette's place of work.

"Your apartment—"

"Is too far away." Neuvillette groans softly as he slips free from Wriothesley's ass. He thumbs at Wriothesley's rim, tugging at it, watching the way that it flutters around his knuckles. "The couch," he says then.

"I'll never be able to look at it again. Neuvillette, you can't expect me to—"

"Would you rather I fuck an egg into you in the hallway?" Wriothesley blinks at the crass wording. Neuvillette never—he never speaks like that. "In the street? Wriothesley, I have a need." His expression softens. "Water," he says then. "Water and some rest."

"You're—"

"I'll be fine."

He won't be. Wriothesley sits up, pulling at his collar. Hot and itchy. Too clothed—but he can't fully strip here no matter how he wants to. And neither can Neuvillette who's still mostly clothed, depriving Wriothesley of his handsome form.

Wriothesley tugs at his sleeve. "And if I need you too? If I want you in the same way? You can't tease fucking an egg into me and then make me wait."

Neuvillette's nostrils flare. Those pale eyes are half-lidded and hazy, clouded by arousal. Rut-drunk, he'd said. It must truly be terrible for Neuvillette to throw all caution away. Wriothesley wonders what happened for his cycle to kick in again—and this time with a catch.

"You want it," says Wriothesley. He could tease, he could shoot Neuvillette a smirk to kiss away, but he doesn't. He states this plainly because it is a known fact. Wriothesley presses a hand to Neuvillette's chest, pulling at the collar of his shirt where it hangs open, several of the buttons undone. "You're so desperate that you'd fuck an egg into me right here. Listen to you, Neuvillette. Since when do you talk like that?"

"Since you. You've—" Neuvillette closes the space and bites at his mouth. This is a bruising kiss, a searing one that speaks volumes. "Ever since we came together, you've plagued me, body and soul. I cannot stop thinking about you, Wriothesley. My mate—which is a thought I've never had. It hammers through my being. I need you viscerally. It is no wonder that my ruts come and go, and now I've—" A fang catches against Wriothesley's lip, cutting into his skin. "Eggs, beloved. I've made eggs because I am so gone for you."

Wriothesley tugs at his hair. "How do you want me? Where—"

"Here." Neuvillette licks across that stinging cut, moaning at the taste of Wriothesley's blood. "Here, against this desk." And then softer, gentler: "Present yourself, please."

Polite, even now, even when he's dripping with lust and lost in the heat of his rut. Wriothesley's chest warms and he tugs him close for one last affectionate kiss. Love—this is where the love seeps into his bones, where Neuvillette just melts against him as if he wants to become one. They indulge in that sweeping, sweet kiss long enough for Neuvillette to growl softly against his mouth.

Point taken. Wriothesley pulls away. "Needy thing," he says, pressing two fingers into Neuvillette's mouth instead, and Neuvillette swallows around them. Fuck. Okay, he's, they're—Wriothesley slides off of the desk and turns, leaning against it. He's hard again—which he didn't think possible at this point, but Neuvillette's pheromones are wild right now, and there's so much that they don't know, that they're still figuring it out. Wriothesley just knows that his need is the same. The only thing that can claw away that tightness in his gut is Neuvillette's dick.

Wriothesley looks over his shoulder and sees that Neuvillette's form has cracked, and faded into something else, something older, non-mortal. Two cocks, each different. One smaller, more human-like, the other spade-shaped at the tip and a larger slit. Neuvillette already has a hand around it, stroking it, slicking it up.

A hunger fills Wriothesley. He arches his back, jutting out his ass. "Sweetheart," he says, "come here."

Neuvillette goes, pressing him against the desk, his weight welcome against Wriothesley's back. He spreads his cheeks, thumbing over his loose hole. "I've..." He hesitates, his brow pinched. Contemplative. That thumb circles Wriothesley's rim, dipping in, savoring the leftover wetness of Hydro and his come. "I've never bred another properly. You are the only one, will be the only one."

Wriothesley's breath catches. That's appealing. Neuvillette, a man who's lived millennia, has never egged up another, has never wanted to, and will never want another. Only him.

Finally, he sinks that cock in, and Wriothesley keens, immediately pressing back against its thickness. "You said both," he whines. "You said—"

"Later," says Neuvillette. "There will be plenty of time later for me to fuck you with both. For now—" He draws out and thrusts in, sighing at the heat of Wriothesley's ass. He falls forward, resting against Wriothesley's back. "I fear this will be short," murmurs Neuvillette, kissing the back of his neck. "My instincts are fickle and they are demanding. With you so receptive to it—"

"Just fuck the damn thing into me," hisses Wriothesley when the tip of Neuvillette's cock slides against his prostate. "Fuck, like that." His cock twitches. He's come so much that the tip is nearly dry—but gods, he aches. He needs more, he needs to choke on Neuvillette's dick, an egg, something.

Neuvillette fucks into him hard and fast. He grinds deep, his cock carving its way through Wriothesley's insides as if it belongs there. "You feel good," he says, pulling at Wriothesley's collar, mouthing at the skin there. "Sovereigns, you're perfect, and all mine. Mine."

He was not joking. Neuvillette. His cock slides deep and at the base of it is a swelling. He stills, forehead resting against Wriothesley's nape, grounding himself.

"Do it," says Wriothesley.

"Listen to me—"

"Please."

"Wriothesley."

Wriothesley clams up.

Neuvillette's tone is quiet and terse, like he's holding back, like he's trying to figure out how to approach what comes next. He pulls back to consider Wriothesley, spreading his cheeks, looking at how he's split open on his cock. His thumb drags over his hole, pressing against it. Sinking in alongside his cock, and oh, that feels delightful.

"Easy does it," says Neuvillette, pulling at his rim gently, stretching it a little further. "We'll take this slowly."

Right, he can do that. Wriothesley nods, slack against the desk, his cheek cradled by the crook of his elbow.

Neuvillette wraps an arm around his waist, the flat of his palm resting against Wriothesley's stomach. He pets it. Dreams about it. Rocks his hips against him, the bulge of that egg bullying Wriothesley's hole. He's taken both of his cocks before. He's taken Hydro tentacles, an entire hand to the wrist—an egg is nothing.

But the stretch is still delicious. Wriothesley moans, lifting his hips, and pressing back against him. He helps, relaxing, allowing Neuvillette to rut into his ass. "Like that," praises Wriothesley, lost in the thick of it, the weight of Neuvillette against his back, the thickness of that egg, the way that he pets his belly. "Fuck, just like that."

Neuvillette thrusts hard and the base of his cock slips in the entire way. He curses, a small utterance against Wriothesley's neck. Then a groan, long, drawn out and wispy. Neuvillette grinds against him and that egg shifts, slipping down his cock deeper, deeper—

That's different. Oh, that's different. Neuvillette fucks into him, that bulge thick as it rolls through him. Wriothesley chokes on the feel of it as it slips from the tip of Neuvillette's cock, settling high in his gut.

Neuvillette stills again, squeezing at the spot just below Wriothesley's navel. "I can feel it." And then again, his voice strained, awed, "Beloved, I can feel it, our egg."

Our egg. That's—he didn't think he'd— Wriothesley's cock twitches. His hand slides between them, pressing underneath Neuvillette's palm, and yeah, okay. A soft bulge, the tiniest bit, but it's there, he's been bred, they have an egg.

Neuvillette shakes, rutting against him again. The dangerous slide of his cock. That damned egg, and the way that the tip kisses it every time. "I've—" Wriothesley feels it before he says it—a thickening at the base of his cock for the second time. "There's another. Wriothesley, can you take another? Beloved, please, please."

Wriothesely didn't know that Neuvillette could whimper like that. He begs, begs for that second egg, forcing his hips back until Neuvillette's cock locks inside of him again. This time as the egg travels, it's too full, different from both of his cocks. Overwhelming. Wriothesley comes again, spilling against the desk in a thin, wet dribble.

Neuvillette shudders as Wriothesley clamps tight around his cock. He whimpers again, fucking that egg into him, grinding against him until it plops deep into his guts. "So good for me," he praises. "Our clutch. We've—hah, we've—"

His other cock is trapped between Wriothesley's thighs. He'd promised he wouldn't use it because Wriothesley knows where that would take them, but for a moment—but a hot, sordid moment—Wriothesley considers begging for it.

"You've bred me," he says instead. "Gods, it feels good. Fuck, I've never—oh it's—"

Neuvillette grinds against him, letting his other cock fuck Wriothesley's thighs. He comes there too, painting the insides of his legs with his come, the base swelling with a knot meant to keep him plugged full of semen. It is a claim that makes Neuvillette's chest rumble. His teeth drag across the line of Wriothesley's shoulder, threatening to sink in, and he wants it, another mark, another claim to admire in the window.

Wriothesley grinds the heel of his hand against the bulge of the eggs and moans. Two eggs and a cock—he'll never be the same. He always thinks that when Neuvillette reveals something new, like cards hidden up his sleeve. First, it was the forked tongue, the knotting, then the double dicks, and now eggs.

"Wriothesley," says Neuvillette gingerly. "I'm going to pull out. You need to evacuate—"

"Please call it anything else than that." The loss of Neuvillette's cock is strange. It slips out and Wriothesley is left so deliciously full that he teeters slightly on wobbling legs. "Oh, that's weird. But good. Fuck, fuck, fuck." The eggs shift slightly as he moves, dragging through his core. Heavy. Solid. Real.

A clutch, said Neuvillette. Our clutch.

"Can they stay? Just a little bit longer? Or will they get stuck? Like how immediate is the need to—" Wriothesley cringes slightly. "Lay them?"

Neuvillette hums thoughtfully, looking more clear-headed than he has since Wriothesley walked into his office. Wriothesley isn't a full, though—it's just a break in his rut. It'll come back in full force. "They are mostly my essence—Hydro—and so I can aid their passage." He tilts Wriothesley's face toward him. "Do you like the feel of them?"

"Full. It's—" Wriothesely moans softly. "Different. Feels good. But they're... ours. I just wanted to rest, thinking about it."

A kiss is pressed against his temple. "Rest you will, then. Let me help you to the couch."

"You too," says Wriothesley as he's led across the room. Most of his clothes come off at this point—his boots, his trousers, his vest—and he's left only in his loose button-down, entirely undone. He doesn't care. He'll be covered by the blanket, and Sedene's seen him worse off. Wriothesely just wants skin-to-skin contact, with Neuvillette pressed against his back, petting over that bulge.

Which is what he does. They settle into the cushions and Neuvillette's fingers drag circles over Wriothesley's skin as they doze until the fullness in his gut shifts into discomfort.

Wriothesley blinks awake, jerking slightly. "I'm—okay, now it's—" His brow pinches as those eggs shift.

Neuvillette's eyes are glassy again, those pale irises tinged blue around the edges. "Beloved," he says, sweeping his palm across his belly. The eggs settle slightly as he pulls at the Hydro that courses through them. "Sit up, lean back against me."

Wriothesley boxes Neuvillette against the arm of the sofa, back against his chest. Neuvillette's mouth presses against his ear, kissing the shell of it, tongue flickering out for a tease. "You were right," he says, "I'd rather the bed next time. We could sleep like that, slotted together with you full of our clutch."

"Mhmm, yeah." A dream. Wriothesley would love that, to be fucked full and swathed in the blankets.

Neuvillette drags his hand from his navel to cock, and the eggs shift with it. "Bear down, for me. Yes, just like that—"

"Are you getting off to this?" Because he feels both of Neuvillette's dicks hard against his back.

Neuvillette laughs. He tilts his mouth and his breath washes over Wriothesley's ear as he says, "How can I not? You're laying our clutch, beloved."

That should not be hot, that shouldn't cause heat to curl tightly in Wriothesley's being but it's like he's been set alight.

"Yeah, okay, that's—" He braces his feet and does as he's asked, and Neuvillette helps ease the passage of the eggs. Feels good, like the slide of his cock, only wet and warm and softer. They slide, pulling Wriothesley's cock with them as it twitches back to life.

"For all your teasing," says Neuvillette when he catches sight, chin resting against Wriothesey's shoulder. He reaches around him and drags a claw down the length of it. "You are certainly one who cannot talk—"

"Fuck you."

"Hm, no, I much prefer this. Nearly there, beloved. Once you're done I'll fuck you again." Gods, the way he talks during his ruts. It haunts Wriothesley's dreams sometimes, Neuvillette so hot and bothered. "Wriothesley." Neuvillette's voice is soft and warm against his neck, his ear. A hand smooths across his stomach, guiding those eggs until they're in a better position for Wriothesley to push at them.

Terrible thought. But Wriothesley doesn't care, not when they feel so good, not when Neuvillette strokes his cock and praises how good he's been. "I cannot wait to fuck you again," he says thumbing over the slit. "How many times can I breed you? I'm out of eggs but you can take both of my cocks, can't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I want that."

The first egg catches against his rim, spreading it wide. Wriothesley bears down, drunk on the fullness of it, on the way it pulls at his hole. It passes, falling to the couch with a wet plop.

"Another." Neuvillette squeezes at his cock, stroking at faster. "One more—there's a good boy."

The second one is easier despite how tired he is. Wriothesley keens crying out as it falls from him. He looks—he can't help it. The eggs are soft-looking, and iridescent, like a frosted window. They glow gently with Hydro, wrinkled at the edges showing that there is a give to them.

Neuvillette stares. He can't stop staring, caught in his rapture, lost in his thoughts. Then he lifts Wriothesley by the hips, and pressing his cocks together. Wriothesley takes the hint. He's so open and loose that he takes them easily. Neuvillette's breath catches when Wriothesley is seated fully, his cocks as deep as they'll go.

In this position, Wriothesley can feel them in his throat. He moves, gyrating his hips, desperate to come again. "Both," he blurts. "Gods, they always feel—" Wriothesley whimpers, his head falling back against Neuvillette's shoulder.

Neuvillette thrusts up, fucking him roughly, sharply. "My mate," he purrs, guiding Wriothesley to move, pulling at his cock until it's leaking all over again. "I didn't think you had it in you for another."

Wriothesley didn't either. He moans, lost in his thoughts, riding Neuvillette on instinct alone. Mate, mate, mate. That word rolls around in his head as he rises and falls against Neuvillette.

Another hand against his stomach. "Once more," says Neuvillette, pressing against the bulge of his twin cocks. "Just once more, and then we'll go home."

Only to be bent over and fucked stupid there—Wriothesley knows. But he nods, whining a soft affirmation, losing himself to Neuvillette's rut all the same. Heat flares tiredly, everything is soft and lazy. But he burns, he aches, he's so close.

One last stroke of his cock is all that it takes. Wriothesley tumbles over that edge, the sensation overwhelming. It hurts, almost, coming this time. His semen is like water, barely there, but it coats Neuvillette's hand nonetheless.

"Perfect," he says, that deep baritone of his rattling Wriothesley's bones. He ruts into him hard, coming, one cock first, and then the other. Neuvillette grunts, worn ragged. Tired—he's tired too. Wriothesley sags against him with a groan, his thighs trembling as he fails to hold himself up.

"The eggs—"

They're already gone, whisked away by his supreme control of Hydro. He noses at Wriothesley's temple and they come down from their high together, slowly, sweetly, time stretching long and thin.

"Home," says Wriothesley a long while later. He hasn't looked at the clock. He hurts everywhere, sore in places that he didn't know he could be sore in. Crusted with filth. "A bath. I'm begging you—and not in a sexy way."

"Whatever you need." A solemn vow. Neuvillette guides him to his feet and helps him dress.

The journey home is stilted, full of wandering hands and stolen kisses because even if Neuvillette can think straight for the moment, he's still a needy, needy thing.

But the bath is worth it, and so are the next few days of fucking, Wriothesley lost and spent in silk sheets, and the touch of Neuvillette's hands.