#I’m just so tired and my patience has been through the wringer today | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cavalierious-whim · 7 months

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A Scent to Placate (NeuWrioLette)

Wriothesley and Neuvillette postpone work meeting for a blow job in the middle of an empty corridor. Part of 'by the strange pull'.

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Today Wriothesley finds himself on edge.

It is usually Neuvillette who is worn thin and ragged, the weight of his title heavy across his shoulders. The Fortress of Meropide is a well-oiled machine when everyone behaves but once in a while… Well. People truly test his patience and while Wriothesley is a well-conducted man there is only so much he can do to reel back his alpha.

Wriothesley drags a hand down his face, massaging his temples. “Archons, I’m too tired for this,” he mutters. No amount of tea can fix his annoyance, not even the special leaves imported from Liyue. A cup of the brew sits on his desk growing cold by the second.

He glances at his pocket watch. “A little more than an hour.” Wriothesley bites at his lip, doing the mental math. “I can grab some lunch before our meeting.”

It can’t come soon enough. If there’s anything that will calm the mild rage that crawls through his being, it’ll be Neuvillette. And yes, it’ll be business—but business conducting with lingering fingers and knowing smirks is the best kind. Wriothesley thinks that he can sneak in a kiss or two.

His alpha rumbles at that, delighted by the idea of the chase. A mild one. A little push and pull until they both give in, setting those instincts aside to eat each other’s face. Wriothesley has a handkerchief, one that Neuvillette leant him. He never gave it back. It smells like him and Wriothesley’s put it through the wringer for the past few days.

Right now a headache brews. He plucks it from the breast pocket of his vest and shoves his face into it, drowning in the salty brine of the ocean. His alpha doesn’t rear, it purrs, instantly soothed. Gods, he’s so gone. Desperate. Pining. “An hour,” he murmurs. He’ll survive.

Food. Right, right. He tucks the handkerchief away and rises from his chair.

Lunch will do him good.

Wriothesley does not get lunch.

Instead, he leaves his office and on the way to the cafeteria, catches sight of Neuvillette. He blinks. Reaches out, curls his fingers around Neuvillette’s forearm to still him. Moments later they find themselves several corridors away, far from prying eyes.

“You’re early,” mutters Wriothesley, tilting his face to press it against Neuvillette’s neck and inhales. Unfettered alpha. Salt-ocean and parchment. Neuvillette. Wriothesley sighs, all the tension that’s coiled tight beginning to ease. He noses at his gland, calming by the moment, and Neuvillette just lets his scent loose, leaking unrestrained.

“I had a spare moment so I checked on the seal.” Right. That’s a thing that happened. Wriothesley would rather have a headache over a migraine, so he thinks of anything other than the Primordial Sea breaking loose.

Neuvillette’s hand slips underneath his vest and settles against the small of Wriothesley’s back. Even through his shirt, Wriothesley can feel the heat of his palm. Searing. Grounding. That hand rubs circles against the sweaty cotton and Wriothesley just arches into the touch.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No.” A pause. “Not really.” No one else is around. And not that either of them cares, but there isn’t much of a risk. Wriothesley sighs against Neuvillette’s neck, kissing it just to the side of that gland. “Just stressed up to my eyeballs. And I’ve missed you. We’ve been so busy that we barely get to see each other and I know that we have a meeting but—”

“It isn’t the same.”

Wriothesley realizes that he’s all but plastered himself against Neuvillette’s side. His instincts run wild, arousal and need roaring through him. He jerks back, an apology ready on his lips. “Ah. Sorry, I just…”

Neuvillette holds him in place with a deceptively strong grip. And for a moment, Wriothesley squirms. His alpha rears its ugly head, his jaw tensing as he holds back a snap of his mouth. Unwilling to be boxed in no matter how delicious Neuvillette’s weight against him is.

He isn’t manhandled, but Wriothesley is guided to turn around until his back is pressed against the wall. Neuvillette dips low, his lips caught against the side of Wriothesley’s temple, pressing a kiss there. Then lower, fans grazing his jaw in a tease. “I’ve missed you too.” His breath ghosts Wriothesley’s ear. “And I would have paid an early visit to your office,” he muses.

Wriothesley swallows thickly. “Oh? For what?”

“To get my hands on you.”

Oh, he’s shameless. Wriothesley loves it.

Neuvillette pulls away with an utterly debased expression, his mouth curled into a smirk, eyes half-lidded with lust. He cups Wriothesley’s throat, his thumb sweeping over his scent gland before settling against his pulse. Not to choke. Just to feel. Wriothesley’s alpha doesn’t even balk, he just leans against the wall and bares his neck further.

“Not that I’m surprised, but I can smell your arousal,” teases Neuvillette.

“Would you fight it?” asks Wriothesely, already knowing the answer. Nevillette’s scent is sharp, spiced with hunger. Like simmering sea spray and pepper, freshly cracked into his veins. Wriothesley itches to pull him close and sink his teeth into his jaw, marking him up for everyone else to see. And perhaps he will. Perhaps he’ll let his instincts run wild.

Neuvillette still thumbs at his pulse. “Only if you asked for it. But, I’d rather kiss you.”

Wriothesley yanks him forward. Their mouths meet in a desperate clash. Neuvillette licks into his mouth hungrily, needy, his hand curling around Wriothesley’s neck. He tastes like crisp, fresh water; like herbed spices and the pressed paper his cases are printed on. Wriothesley drinks it up, and swallows it down, before taking more.

Neuvillette cups his cheeks and tilts Wriothesley’s face up, kissing him as though starving, all teeth and tongue. Heat flares through Wriothesley’s chest, both the bitter-sharp sting of his innate alpha and aching arousal.

Wriothesley’s fingers curl into the long tail of Neuvillette’s hair and he tugs. “I’d rather you heel for me,” he says once they part. Again, his face finds Neuvillette’s jaw and he inhales, drowning in his scent, nipping at his skin. “Fuck, you smell good. All mine. That’s what I’d want to see—for you to show everyone else what a sweetheart you are, just for me.”

A growl at the nickname. Wriothesley wishes they were in his office. He’d bend him over the desk and fuck him stupid. He catches Neuvillette’s chin and slides his thumb across his bottom lip.

“Would you? Heel for me?”

Oh, that look. Neuvillette looks at him not with annoyance, but with a gaze that spells trouble. He bites at Wriothesley’s thumb, teeth sinking into the soft meat of it. And then a kiss to soothe the smarting pricks, his tongue swirling around the digit before popping off.

Neuvillette drops to his knees and Wriothesley stills. “Hey, what are you—” He hisses when Neuvillette palms his hard cock through his trousers. Wriothesley shoots a worried glance at the open end of the corridor.

“There’s no one,” murmurs Neuvilitte, leaning forward to nuzzle at him next. “You’d smell them—”

“They’re definitely going to smell us—”

“Is that a complaint?” Neuvillette’s eyes flicker up, watching him through long lashes. “Aren’t I yours? Didn’t you want me to heel? To show me off?” His fingers trace the findings of Wriothesley’s trousers. Waiting. For permission.

No sane alpha would let another around their dick, but this is Neuvillette. Wriothesley adores this man.

And Neuvillette is just as desperate to get his mouth around him for a claim of his own. “Beloved,” he says so quietly that Wriothesley barely hears it. “I want you. I crave you.”

Wriothesley groans as he undoes his trousers, dropping them just enough to free his cock. Neuvillette spares no time, immediately stroking his length. He leans close, kissing the base of Wriothesley’s cock, inhaling his scent there. “Gods,” he murmurs, a rare curse that sends heat through Wriothesley’s core.

Neuvillette looks sinful on his knees. Divine in the way he worships him, kissing down the length of his cock before trailing back to the tip with his tongue. He laps at the crown, tasting the precome, tongue teasing the slit.

“I’m—that’s—” He’s so close. Takes nothing but that damned laugh that bubbles from Neuvillette’s throat and his aroused gaze. He shoots Wriothesley a devilish smirk and then swallows his cock right down to the root. Wriothesley bites back a strangled groan. “Fuck. Fuck.”

Neuvillette is a terror. He sucks him dry, tongue sliding against the underside of his length. He bobs his head, pulling back to flick his tongue against the tip before sliding down again, greedy for more. He moans when his nose nestles into the coarse hair at Wriothesley’s groin. He swallows around him, the tip of Wriothesley’s cock nudging the back of his throat.

Wriothesley brushes his bangs back to get a better look. Neuvillette’s cheeks are pink. His lips are stretched wide around him, drool dripping from the corners of his mouth. His nostrils flare as he fights his instincts—but he’s so, so good for him.

A quick roll of his hips to test the waters. Neuvillette gasps and then moans, vibrations running up his cock and straight to the balls. “Archons, you feel—” Wriothesley’s next thrust is harder, sharper, and Neuvillette chokes just slightly.

But then he grabs Wriothesley’s thighs and sinks his claws in, yanking him closer. Wriothesley gets the idea. He reads between the dots. His cock twitches not at the thought of fucking Neuvillette’s mouth, but at the fact that he’s asking for it. Begging for it.

Wriothesley holds Neuvillette’s face gently, cradling it in his palms. There’s the threat of fangs, and him snapping back, but Wriothesley’s trusts him. “Heel,” he murmurs, mostly a tease, the word settling between them. Neuvillette does, relaxing against him, and Wriothesley’s alpha roars in delight. Pleasure spreads through his being, bolstered by how Neuvillette responds, eagerly sinking down the entirety of his cock.

He brushes Neuvillette’s bangs back, taking in the sight of him. Then his fingers curl into the locks at the crown of his head to hold him there. His next thrust is hard and deep, his cock dragging through the wet hot cavern of Neuvillette’s mouth.

Neuvillette scrabbles against him, claws digging sharp crescents into his thighs. He groans, letting Wriothesley hold his face there as he slides deep, glassy-eyed and drowning in the feel of it. Arousal hangs thick in the air, the tang of it tickling Wriothesley’s nose.

Wriothesley rolls against him over and over. Neuvillette chokes, a wonderful, beautiful sound that has Wriothesley’s instincts championing. He wants more, they both do. Neuvillette meets every thrust, his nostrils flaring as he swallows on every downstroke. Wriothesley’s glance drops from his face to his trousers. Neuvillette is hard, his own aching erection trapped in his trousers.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect for me.” Wriothesley can’t stop looking, eyes grazing over Neuvillette’s face. Cheeks, red and ruddy. Eyes tearing up from the lack of oxygen. The gurgling of spittle that bubbles from his lips as Wriothesley ruts into his mouth.

A sweetheart indeed. Wriothesley’s fingers tighten in his hair and Neuvillette just sags against him, spurring him on, keening around his cock as if it’s a feast. And perhaps it is. Neuvillette teased the idea of visiting him early. Wriothesley knows he would’ve wound up flush against his desk, ass up. A different sort of battle, one where two alphas fight for dominance—but Neuvillette almost always gives in.

Wriothesley fucks him roughly, spearing the back of Neuvillette’s throat. He holds him there, pressing his head down, cradling the back of it. “Just like that,” he mutters with a soft hiss. “Yes, just like that.”

In the beginning, that’s what made this entire thing hot. That’s what drove Wriothesley to madness. Neuvillette isn’t a mewling omega, he’s a fierce dragon, all fangs and heady alpha. And that’s always been Wriothesley’s taste—he prefers his partners to be like boxing rivals. It’s about the hunt, the push and pull, sinking claws and teeth into flesh. There is something to taming an alpha that riles Wriothesley up.

But—

The grip on Neuvillette’s hair loosens. And though his cock is still shoved deep, Neuvillette prone around it, Wriothesley doesn’t think of this as a conquest. His alpha thinks that, yes—in a way. But his alpha also purrs in delight at the submission because Neuvillette is precious to him. He often wonders just who is the one who’s been tamed.

“Where do you want me to come?” he asks. “On your face? Down your throat?”

Neuvillette lets out a broken sound in reply. Wriothesley pets his hair, fucking his throat sweeter, softer. Neuvillette loves the taste of him. To savor him. And Celestia above, Wriothesley’s instincts swoon at the mere thought of it. Dousing Neuvillette in his spend, his scent, a fervent claim so readily devoured. They are a barely-kept secret and anyone who walks through this corridor will smell their remnants.

Heat curls in his gut. Pleasure snaps white-hot and thin, tugging at Wriothesley’s being. “Neuvillette,” he says. “I’m—fuck, don’t—”

Neuvillette sinks down as far as he can go. Hums around him, his throat like a vice. Pain pricks Wriothesley’s thighs from well-honed, dangerous claws. But there is no fear, no raging of his alpha; just sweet fucking relief as Wriothesley tumbles over the edge and spills into Neuvillette’s mouth.

He grunts in overstimulation as Neuvillette pulls off his cock. Swallows his come dutifully before diving back in and licking the rest of his length clean. “Wait, wait—”

Neuvillette takes pity on him. Only because they’re in the middle of a hallway. Only because someone could walk in at any moment. He kisses the tip of hWriothesley’s cock gently, swirling his tongue around the crown before pulling away. Wriothesley leans into it, chasing the heat, and frowns when Neuvillette chuckles at the sight.

His cock is then tucked back away and his trousers redone. When Neuvillette stands it’s on shaking thighs, and Wriothesley has to steady him. They turn until Neuvillette’s back is against the wall once more, Wriothesley’s face tilted up to kiss him until there are no thoughts left to be had.

“Beloved—”

Wriothesley swallows up that sound of his name, tongue sliding between those devilish lips. Swollen; Neuvillette’s mouth is swollen and pink. His eyes are still hazy and wet. Wriothesley tastes himself, the bitter and sour tang of his come, and he growls at the threat. At the tease. He moans, seeking out more, devouring Neuvillette’s mouth as he boxes him against the wall.

A sharp grip around his wrist brings him back. “Wriothesley.” Neuvillette cups Wriothesley’s cheek with his free hand. A thumb traces the scar underneath his eyes and Wriothesley just melts, his alpha calming, seeking out the warmth of his—

“Do you want Sigewenne to come upon us?”

Whatever thought Wriothesley was about to have is immediately gone. “Shit. No.”

Neuvillette laughs and drops his hand. Wriothesley panics—not because of embarrassment but because he doesn’t want an earful.

And then he remembers. “Wait, you didn’t—”

“Later.” Neuvillette says it as if he doesn’t have an aching erection. Wriothesley knows it hurts, knows that his instincts beg for more. Neuvillette’s expression softens and he leans over for another quick kiss. “I’ll live,” he says. “I’ll be irritable. I may snap at others until I can have you alone in your office, but I will live. I knew the risk from the beginning.”

Wriothesley’s throat bobs. Neuvillette’s words heat every corner of his being and his cock twitches again in renewed interest.

“After our meeting, of course.”

Oh. Right. That. The meeting. They have actual work to discuss and Wriothesley has the distinct feeling that Neuvillette might make a game of it. He straightens his collar and wipes at his face with the inside of his cuff. Aside from his swollen lips and reeking of arousal, he looks relatively put together.

“Beautiful,” sighs Wriothesley. “How close is she?”

“Too close for us to linger about.”

“Yeah. God it. Lead the way Sweetheart—”

“Don’t.”

“You’ll come to love it.”

“I will not.”

Wriothesley hides a smirk as he trails behind him. Judging by Neuvillette’s testy tone, this is a spat that Wriothesley has already won.

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