[The whisper alone is enough for his heartrate to pick up its pace, and when Neuvillette leans in, Wriothesley's response is eager -- wanting. Kissing Neuvillette had been on his mind from the moment they'd met in the fountain plaza, had only grown more intense when he'd been kissed outside of the restaurant... more intense when Neuvillette had made his own desire clear with those three words.
Out here now, not another sentient soul within a considerable distance, Wriothesley allows his own desires to bleed into the very way he moves. His free arm slides around Neuvillette's shoulders -- fingers threaded into soft hair as his nails drag gently against the other's scalp. His legs shift just a little with the touch of Neuvillette's hand on his waist, his very posture practically asking for more even without conscious thought directing such.
Neuvillette's impatience is perfectly reflected in the way Wriothesley meets each kiss as they grow deeper and deeper, as the hand that had covered Neuvillette's at his cheek shifts -- as his fingers find puchase in the soft fabric of the robes of the Iudex. There's clear, desperate desire in the way he holds the other man, in the way his heart races -- desire in the very way each breath trembles.
Wriothesley's breath catches a moment at the brush of Neuvillette's tongue, lips parting involuntarily as Neuvillette isn't the only one who shivers. He'd never wanted anyone or anything in his entire life more than he wanted the other in this moment, and it's instinct as opposed to thought that has him leaning closer still.]
[ The more Wriothesley's blood pumps, the more potent his scent becomes. It's addicting, for lack of a better term-- it's incredible and wonderful and makes the sensation of being close to him all the more overwhelming. The taste of him... the heat of him, even, as Neuvillette's tongue meets Wriothesley's own, is so new it sends a thrill through him that he'd never expected.
As Wriothesley comes closer, Neuvillette considers the idea of offering. And that, if nothing else, has him breaking the kiss to utter a short, ] Come here.
[ There's a sense of demanding in the grip of his hands as his fingers slip to Wriothesley's thigh and hold there. Neuvillette pulls with a gentle tug, his head dipping to nuzzle Wriothesley's jaw and neck, and he kisses over the collar wrapped around his throat. ]
I want you closer.
[ Onto his lap, preferably, and if Wriothesley's pliant that's exactly how Neuvillette plans to manoeuvre him. ]
[When their tongues meet, a shiver runs down Wriothesley's spine. The feeling -- the heat -- the taste of Neuvillette were all far more intoxicating than he could've ever imagined. The hand in the other's hair trails slowly, fingertips drifting down the back of his neck -- only to pause as Neuvillette breaks the kiss.
Wriothesley is far more breathless than he'd realized, and he takes a slow, trembling breath as half-lidded eyes glance first to Neuvillette's mouth before raising to his eyes.
The first two words -- the demanding way Neuvillette's hand grips his thigh are more than enough to get Wriothesley moving. One knee pressed into the ground, he follows Neuvillette's gentle tug -- body shifted carefully until he can settle, straddling the other man's lap. There was something about the position -- about being settled so close to another -- hands on him as he can feel Neuvillette's warmth between his thighs, that causes the heat prickling at the back of his neck to spread through the rest of him.
Neuvillette's name is a soft gasp on his lips as the other nuzzles into his neck, and Wriothesley doesn't even have to think about it before his head tips back... before he so willingly gives Neuvillette easy access to what bare skin the collar hadn't hidden away from him.
In the back of his mind, he gives hazy consideration to unfastening it -- to giving Neuvillette something that he'd never even been willing to bare in front of any others. He just may... if he could untangle fingers still clinging firmly to Neuvillette's clothing.]
[ Neuvillette's mind halts for just a moment, and before he knows what he's doing he's got his lips sucking a mark in the flesh that peeks between two crossed lines of leather.
When he pulls away, there's a soft noise that comes with it as the pressure releases. And in the haze of it all, as he eyes the mark he's left he can't say he feels guilty.
If anything, the look suits him. I'm yours, Wriothesley's said. If I can give you anything you want, I will.
Neuvillette's gaze lifts, darkened eyes on Wriothesley's own. He's not sure what to do what his hands, but he likes the proximity-- wants enough of it that his touch finds the small of Wriothesley's back to encourage him to press flush against him.
His other hand, meanwhile, cups the side of Wriothesley's neck. And every point of contact between them-- from their hands to their hips to the perfect weight of Wriothesley's body atop his legs-- brings with them a desire for more.
His thumb strokes along Wriothesley's jaw, his other arm looping more firmly around him. ] Open your mouth. [ Because, hungry again, Neuvillette wastes no time licking between those parted lips. The new closeness between them makes the whole thing even headier. ]
[The pressure of Neuvillette marking his skin is a wholly unfamiliar experience... and Wriothesley couldn't deny that he enjoyed how it felt. Every single touch, every taste, every demand... he wanted all of it. He wanted more of it. He wanted to feel it as Neuvillette took anything he wanted from him -- wanted to give all of himself freely.
There was little else he'd been as sure of as he was of wanting to belong to the other.
The color of his normally bright eyes had deepened with his desire as his gaze meets Neuvillette's. His breathing clearly hitches as he's encouraged to press their hips together, eyes darking further as he automatically shifts to make the motion much easier to maintain.
Still breathless, more and more overwhelmed, Wriothesley does deliberately manage to release his grip on the front of Neuvillette's ceremonial robes -- manages to slide that touch around to his back, to dig fingertips into the fabric once again as the fingers of his other hand curl in Neuvillette's hair.
Every touch, every little bit of friction, everything adds further depth to his desires -- desires so strong he's powerless to do anything but give in to each and every one. Neuvillette's words reach him in a way that feels like a command -- one that he wastes absolutely no time in following.
When their mouths -- when their tongues -- meet, Wriothesley's response is eager. Eager especially as he'd fully given himself over to fulfilling every single desire Neuvillette wanted of him. He could feel the beat of his racing heart in each motion, each shift of his hips as he settled fully flush against Neuvillette's lap. They were far, far beyond the other needing to ask.]
[ It's the hunger that gets him, in the end. Wriothesley holds him with a greed that matches Neuvillette's own-- a desire that flares in the base of his stomach and licks through his veins, only made worse with the slotting of Wriothesley's hips against his own.
He's never touched like this, never really felt the need to. But there's pleasure in their connection, and so as Wriothesley presses against him, Neuvillette's own hips rock up. Experimental as the friction is, the rub of their cocks makes Neuvillette shiver; he'd never realised how touch starved he was until Wriothesley, but he also never realised just how sensitive he could be to touch to begin with, either. ]
Hah... [ There's a sense of awe there, a low hum in Neuvillette's throat as he sucks on Wriothesley's lip like he's eating candy. Gloved hands slip to Wriothesley's ass and hold him there, guiding him in lazy, easy ruts against each other.
Breathlessly, lovingly, Neuvillette murmurs, ] You taste incredible.
[Wriothesley had never really been all that interested in sex -- something no few men, who made advances when he'd been in his late teens, found impossible to understand. The women seemed far more confused than incredulous, something about him not being like a 'normal teenaged boy'. It was actually pretty simple, to him. To let someone this close to you required more trust than he was willing to give to any one of them.
He only recently realized that all this time the only person he'd ever trusted this much, even back before they'd spoken years after his trial, was the very same man now between his legs.
When Neuvillette's hips rock up against his, Wriothesley couldn't (and frankly didn't want to) stop his own hips from rocking down in response. In his years since finishing his sentence, he did understand how touch could bring pleasure... but he'd never imagined just how different it would be when it was someone else touching him. Even through their clothes, the friction makes his breath catch in his chest -- makes his hand clench firmly at the back of Neuvillette's robes.
When the other moves only just enough to speak, Wriothesley tilts his head only just enough to rest their foreheads together. He has to take a moment, the hand in Neuvillette's hair loosening the careful grip he'd only just noticed -- shifting to brush callused fingertips against the underside of Neuvillette's jaw.
Even after somewhat catching his breath, his murmured response is similarly breathless -- utter adoration, and of course desire, coloring his tone.] I could easily say the same.
[His breath hitches only just, thoughts hazy as the shift of his hips follows the guidance of Neuvillette's hands. The tone of his voice becomes a low rumble, quiet between them and still no less breathless than before.] I'm looking forward to tasting more of you.
[ With a mouth as sweet as the one Wriothesley offers to him now, the thought of feeling him elsewhere appeals to instincts Neuvillette had worked hard to keep dormant. It'd been less a matter of shame and more the need for assimilation-- there's no place for a dragon in the Court of Fontaine, after all.
But the thought of it-- of Wriothesley using his mouth, his body, in some form of offering-- sends a shiver down his spine. Neuvillette had never truly paid attention to his station of being Sovereign of anything, considering all that had been taken from him before his hatching, but he likes the idea of this far more than he should. Of Wriothesley's appreciation and affection... of his lips showing just how much he appreciates him...
It makes him realise they both have too many clothes on. ]
We need to... [ The slow slide of Wriothesley's cock against his own distracts him thoroughly. Pleasure crackles in his head and down his spine like electricity. ] ...ah.
You're wearing too much. [ But so is he, and the thought of that has one hand moving away from Wriothesley to take his wrist and guide it to the front of his robes where the clasps are. ]
Undo them. Please. [ His breath is warm against Wriothesley's cheek, the kiss he presses to the corner of his mouth gentle compared to the way he'd so selfishly taken him earlier. ] And I'll do the same for you.
[ He's already moving to unclasp Wriothesley's coat from where it hangs off his shoulders, even. ]
[When Neuvillette says he's wearing too much, Wriothesley finds he couldn't agree more. Really, he thought they were both wearing far too much, and as one of his hands is guided to the front of the robes of the other's station his other draws forward as well. He can't quite resist the brush of his fingers against Neuvillette's jaw with the motion, though he doesn't delay long -- one layer at a time, beginning with the other's cravat.
He'd seen Neuvillette dressed down once before... and the thought of seeing him that way again -- seeing more of him draws a shiver of anticipation down his spine.]
How much would you like me to undo? [For all his breathing is still somewhat unsteady -- each idle shift in Neuvillette's lap creating friction that shoots waves of pleasure up his spine -- his breathless, murmured words are clear as his lips move against the other's cheek.
As he finishes with the cravat and his hands trail lower, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth -- he turns just slightly, eyes only half open and lips brushing against Neuvillette's as he murmurs just one question.] Or should I ask... how much of you will I get to see...?
[For all the clasps were unfamiliar, Wriothesley doesn't find himself having too much trouble as he dutifully works his way through each layer. He would stop if Neuvillette told him -- if he made him stop... but he couldn't shake the desire to feel bare skin against his hands... against the rest of him.
... once he was able, he would have to see about removing his gloves -- removing the wraps that obscured his scarred arms. If Neuvillette didn't do so first, at the least.]
[ For once, Neuvillette doesn't have a real answer. He's caught by the feel of Wriothesley's skin peeking between his open waistcoat and shirt, caught by the warmth of him and how difficult it is to pull away when he has him so near, so exposed.
His voice is lower, rough around the edges: ] However much you can manage before I find it impossible to resist you.
[ ...a point that's rapidly approaching, he finds, as he shrugs the layers of his own clothing off and allows himself to really look at Wriothesley in the middle of it.
There is some aesthetic quality to it, he's sure. Wriothesley's a lovely human, with bright eyes and pretty lips and a build typically associated with the heroic athletes and warriors of any tale. But to Neuvillette, whose perception of aesthetic beauty is a bit more skewed away from human physicality, the darkening of his irises happens more because Wriothesley is exposing himself to him.
From his bare chest to his belly, all these spots just full of sensitive human organs-- the things used to sustain life, even-- Wriothesley shows himself without shame. Neuvillette follows every scar, hungry and wanting, and some unspeakable instinct in him (untouched for hundreds of years now) has him gripping Wriothesley's middle and turning him over until his back lands on the discarded robes of the Iudex below.
Like this, he really is offered to him: prey caught in the hunt, heart beating fast. Without thought, Neuvillette's teeth catch the end of his glove at his index finger and pull, leaving his right hand exposed and the shining sign of his Sovereignty on his palm in clear view. He wants to touch him, to feel Wriothesley's skin against his own, and as he looms over him with the open sides of his shirt hanging off his torso, he presses his palm to his belly (he could rip Wriothesley apart, and yet Wriothesley trusts him--) and exhales quietly as his touch leads up to his heart.
Bare, callused fingers come up Wriothesley's neck, brushing the swollen petals of his lips. Neuvillette's other hand finds Wriothesley's thigh, guiding him to wrap it around him as he bends lower to bite lightly at his ear. ]
You said you wanted to taste more of me. [ His index finger teases at the bottom of Wriothesley's lip. ]
...show me.
[ And, demanding and gentle all at once, he slips his bare fingers into his mouth. ]
[As Neuvillette shrugs off the layers of clothing that Wriothesley has already finished unfastening, he takes the moment to do the same. His upper body is bare this way, save for the leather wrapped on his neck and arms -- save for his gloves. His hands resume unfastening the last layer of Neuvillette's shirt.
With his torso bared to the other man, Wriothesley spares the briefest thought for the scars only seen by Sigewinne as she patched him up each time. She had seen most of them back when they were fresh injuries -- several of them in quite dangerous places. He's been hurt many times, had people attempt to kill him in the Pankration ring back before the fights had any rules. By all rights, even though he isn't self-conscious about how he appears, Wriothesley shouldn't be willing to let himself be this vulnerable. And yet, he is. If Neuvillette wanted to cause him serious harm, he is incredibly aware of how easily it could be done. Aware of just how much trust he had given the Iudex without question.
Aware as he is of these things though, they're far from what's on his mind. Especially when Neuvillette grabs him -- when he turns them and Wriothesley's back comes to rest against the recently discarded soft robes. Being trapped like this sends such a thrill down his spine that Wriothesley's breath catches audibly, eyes dark with clear desire. His gaze -- that had shifted to the expanse of bare skin he could see beyond the remaining layer Neuvillette still wore -- is caught by the raise of the man's hand. The breath he takes is shaky when Neuvillette removes the one glove with his teeth -- teeth that Wriothesley wanted to feel more of on his skin. He does take notice of the shining mark on Neuvillette's palm... but his focus is entirely elsewhere.
The muscles in his stomach flex briefly -- involuntarily -- at the unfamiliar feeling of skin on skin, at the way it felt to be touched like this. Without thought as the touch trails up his body, as he feels his back slightly arch into the touch, his own hands lift -- rest on Neuvillette's waist beneath the fabric of his shirt. He had to touch him -- wanted so badly to feel more of him -- and callused hands wander idly.
There's a shiver to his breath as Neuvillette's touch brushes his neck, brushes his lips. The feeling was so remarkably different from every touch previous, callused skin instead of smooth gloves, and Wriothesley found he wanted more. Not just this night, no, but any time they could be alone together. When Neuvillette's other hand finds his thigh, Wriothesley is as cooperative and quick as back when he'd been guided into the Iudex's lap, leg wrapped securely around him -- shifting against the other man's clothes as he settles.
'Piercings dull sensation', someone had told him once... but oh how wrong they had been. Neuvillette's teeth on his ear is easily enough to pull a faltering gasp from him, to cause his hands which had trailed to the middle of Neuvillette's back to flex, fingernails pressing into skin. Wriothesley's lips part only just at the touch to his lips, and he has enough time to understand what Neuvillette demands of him.
Easily his mouth opens enough to allow callused fingers to slip inside, eyelids fluttering only half open. The taste of him then draws a low sound from his chest, pleased as he shifts -- as he slowly works Neuvillette's fingers deeper into his mouth with an ease that would've surprised even him if he were capable of thinking about that right now. He's rather content to start off slowly with the whole thing, sucking gently enough for now -- tongue caressing the length of the other man's fingers. He pauses to focus briefly on his fingertips as he pulls back before he once again takes him fully into his mouth once more.
There's a sly glint to his eyes as he moves. He would slowly get faster as he moved... but he wanted to build anticipation -- to indicate just what Neuvillette could look forward to, if he desired.]
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Out here now, not another sentient soul within a considerable distance, Wriothesley allows his own desires to bleed into the very way he moves. His free arm slides around Neuvillette's shoulders -- fingers threaded into soft hair as his nails drag gently against the other's scalp. His legs shift just a little with the touch of Neuvillette's hand on his waist, his very posture practically asking for more even without conscious thought directing such.
Neuvillette's impatience is perfectly reflected in the way Wriothesley meets each kiss as they grow deeper and deeper, as the hand that had covered Neuvillette's at his cheek shifts -- as his fingers find puchase in the soft fabric of the robes of the Iudex. There's clear, desperate desire in the way he holds the other man, in the way his heart races -- desire in the very way each breath trembles.
Wriothesley's breath catches a moment at the brush of Neuvillette's tongue, lips parting involuntarily as Neuvillette isn't the only one who shivers. He'd never wanted anyone or anything in his entire life more than he wanted the other in this moment, and it's instinct as opposed to thought that has him leaning closer still.]
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As Wriothesley comes closer, Neuvillette considers the idea of offering. And that, if nothing else, has him breaking the kiss to utter a short, ] Come here.
[ There's a sense of demanding in the grip of his hands as his fingers slip to Wriothesley's thigh and hold there. Neuvillette pulls with a gentle tug, his head dipping to nuzzle Wriothesley's jaw and neck, and he kisses over the collar wrapped around his throat. ]
I want you closer.
[ Onto his lap, preferably, and if Wriothesley's pliant that's exactly how Neuvillette plans to manoeuvre him. ]
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[When their tongues meet, a shiver runs down Wriothesley's spine. The feeling -- the heat -- the taste of Neuvillette were all far more intoxicating than he could've ever imagined. The hand in the other's hair trails slowly, fingertips drifting down the back of his neck -- only to pause as Neuvillette breaks the kiss.
Wriothesley is far more breathless than he'd realized, and he takes a slow, trembling breath as half-lidded eyes glance first to Neuvillette's mouth before raising to his eyes.
The first two words -- the demanding way Neuvillette's hand grips his thigh are more than enough to get Wriothesley moving. One knee pressed into the ground, he follows Neuvillette's gentle tug -- body shifted carefully until he can settle, straddling the other man's lap. There was something about the position -- about being settled so close to another -- hands on him as he can feel Neuvillette's warmth between his thighs, that causes the heat prickling at the back of his neck to spread through the rest of him.
Neuvillette's name is a soft gasp on his lips as the other nuzzles into his neck, and Wriothesley doesn't even have to think about it before his head tips back... before he so willingly gives Neuvillette easy access to what bare skin the collar hadn't hidden away from him.
In the back of his mind, he gives hazy consideration to unfastening it -- to giving Neuvillette something that he'd never even been willing to bare in front of any others. He just may... if he could untangle fingers still clinging firmly to Neuvillette's clothing.]
no subject
When he pulls away, there's a soft noise that comes with it as the pressure releases. And in the haze of it all, as he eyes the mark he's left he can't say he feels guilty.
If anything, the look suits him. I'm yours, Wriothesley's said. If I can give you anything you want, I will.
Neuvillette's gaze lifts, darkened eyes on Wriothesley's own. He's not sure what to do what his hands, but he likes the proximity-- wants enough of it that his touch finds the small of Wriothesley's back to encourage him to press flush against him.
His other hand, meanwhile, cups the side of Wriothesley's neck. And every point of contact between them-- from their hands to their hips to the perfect weight of Wriothesley's body atop his legs-- brings with them a desire for more.
His thumb strokes along Wriothesley's jaw, his other arm looping more firmly around him. ] Open your mouth. [ Because, hungry again, Neuvillette wastes no time licking between those parted lips. The new closeness between them makes the whole thing even headier. ]
no subject
There was little else he'd been as sure of as he was of wanting to belong to the other.
The color of his normally bright eyes had deepened with his desire as his gaze meets Neuvillette's. His breathing clearly hitches as he's encouraged to press their hips together, eyes darking further as he automatically shifts to make the motion much easier to maintain.
Still breathless, more and more overwhelmed, Wriothesley does deliberately manage to release his grip on the front of Neuvillette's ceremonial robes -- manages to slide that touch around to his back, to dig fingertips into the fabric once again as the fingers of his other hand curl in Neuvillette's hair.
Every touch, every little bit of friction, everything adds further depth to his desires -- desires so strong he's powerless to do anything but give in to each and every one. Neuvillette's words reach him in a way that feels like a command -- one that he wastes absolutely no time in following.
When their mouths -- when their tongues -- meet, Wriothesley's response is eager. Eager especially as he'd fully given himself over to fulfilling every single desire Neuvillette wanted of him. He could feel the beat of his racing heart in each motion, each shift of his hips as he settled fully flush against Neuvillette's lap. They were far, far beyond the other needing to ask.]
no subject
He's never touched like this, never really felt the need to. But there's pleasure in their connection, and so as Wriothesley presses against him, Neuvillette's own hips rock up. Experimental as the friction is, the rub of their cocks makes Neuvillette shiver; he'd never realised how touch starved he was until Wriothesley, but he also never realised just how sensitive he could be to touch to begin with, either. ]
Hah... [ There's a sense of awe there, a low hum in Neuvillette's throat as he sucks on Wriothesley's lip like he's eating candy. Gloved hands slip to Wriothesley's ass and hold him there, guiding him in lazy, easy ruts against each other.
Breathlessly, lovingly, Neuvillette murmurs, ] You taste incredible.
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He only recently realized that all this time the only person he'd ever trusted this much, even back before they'd spoken years after his trial, was the very same man now between his legs.
When Neuvillette's hips rock up against his, Wriothesley couldn't (and frankly didn't want to) stop his own hips from rocking down in response. In his years since finishing his sentence, he did understand how touch could bring pleasure... but he'd never imagined just how different it would be when it was someone else touching him. Even through their clothes, the friction makes his breath catch in his chest -- makes his hand clench firmly at the back of Neuvillette's robes.
When the other moves only just enough to speak, Wriothesley tilts his head only just enough to rest their foreheads together. He has to take a moment, the hand in Neuvillette's hair loosening the careful grip he'd only just noticed -- shifting to brush callused fingertips against the underside of Neuvillette's jaw.
Even after somewhat catching his breath, his murmured response is similarly breathless -- utter adoration, and of course desire, coloring his tone.] I could easily say the same.
[His breath hitches only just, thoughts hazy as the shift of his hips follows the guidance of Neuvillette's hands. The tone of his voice becomes a low rumble, quiet between them and still no less breathless than before.] I'm looking forward to tasting more of you.
no subject
But the thought of it-- of Wriothesley using his mouth, his body, in some form of offering-- sends a shiver down his spine. Neuvillette had never truly paid attention to his station of being Sovereign of anything, considering all that had been taken from him before his hatching, but he likes the idea of this far more than he should. Of Wriothesley's appreciation and affection... of his lips showing just how much he appreciates him...
It makes him realise they both have too many clothes on. ]
We need to... [ The slow slide of Wriothesley's cock against his own distracts him thoroughly. Pleasure crackles in his head and down his spine like electricity. ] ...ah.
You're wearing too much. [ But so is he, and the thought of that has one hand moving away from Wriothesley to take his wrist and guide it to the front of his robes where the clasps are. ]
Undo them. Please. [ His breath is warm against Wriothesley's cheek, the kiss he presses to the corner of his mouth gentle compared to the way he'd so selfishly taken him earlier. ] And I'll do the same for you.
[ He's already moving to unclasp Wriothesley's coat from where it hangs off his shoulders, even. ]
no subject
[When Neuvillette says he's wearing too much, Wriothesley finds he couldn't agree more. Really, he thought they were both wearing far too much, and as one of his hands is guided to the front of the robes of the other's station his other draws forward as well. He can't quite resist the brush of his fingers against Neuvillette's jaw with the motion, though he doesn't delay long -- one layer at a time, beginning with the other's cravat.
He'd seen Neuvillette dressed down once before... and the thought of seeing him that way again -- seeing more of him draws a shiver of anticipation down his spine.]
How much would you like me to undo? [For all his breathing is still somewhat unsteady -- each idle shift in Neuvillette's lap creating friction that shoots waves of pleasure up his spine -- his breathless, murmured words are clear as his lips move against the other's cheek.
As he finishes with the cravat and his hands trail lower, a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth -- he turns just slightly, eyes only half open and lips brushing against Neuvillette's as he murmurs just one question.] Or should I ask... how much of you will I get to see...?
[For all the clasps were unfamiliar, Wriothesley doesn't find himself having too much trouble as he dutifully works his way through each layer. He would stop if Neuvillette told him -- if he made him stop... but he couldn't shake the desire to feel bare skin against his hands... against the rest of him.
... once he was able, he would have to see about removing his gloves -- removing the wraps that obscured his scarred arms. If Neuvillette didn't do so first, at the least.]
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His voice is lower, rough around the edges: ] However much you can manage before I find it impossible to resist you.
[ ...a point that's rapidly approaching, he finds, as he shrugs the layers of his own clothing off and allows himself to really look at Wriothesley in the middle of it.
There is some aesthetic quality to it, he's sure. Wriothesley's a lovely human, with bright eyes and pretty lips and a build typically associated with the heroic athletes and warriors of any tale. But to Neuvillette, whose perception of aesthetic beauty is a bit more skewed away from human physicality, the darkening of his irises happens more because Wriothesley is exposing himself to him.
From his bare chest to his belly, all these spots just full of sensitive human organs-- the things used to sustain life, even-- Wriothesley shows himself without shame. Neuvillette follows every scar, hungry and wanting, and some unspeakable instinct in him (untouched for hundreds of years now) has him gripping Wriothesley's middle and turning him over until his back lands on the discarded robes of the Iudex below.
Like this, he really is offered to him: prey caught in the hunt, heart beating fast. Without thought, Neuvillette's teeth catch the end of his glove at his index finger and pull, leaving his right hand exposed and the shining sign of his Sovereignty on his palm in clear view. He wants to touch him, to feel Wriothesley's skin against his own, and as he looms over him with the open sides of his shirt hanging off his torso, he presses his palm to his belly (he could rip Wriothesley apart, and yet Wriothesley trusts him--) and exhales quietly as his touch leads up to his heart.
Bare, callused fingers come up Wriothesley's neck, brushing the swollen petals of his lips. Neuvillette's other hand finds Wriothesley's thigh, guiding him to wrap it around him as he bends lower to bite lightly at his ear. ]
You said you wanted to taste more of me. [ His index finger teases at the bottom of Wriothesley's lip. ]
...show me.
[ And, demanding and gentle all at once, he slips his bare fingers into his mouth. ]
no subject
[As Neuvillette shrugs off the layers of clothing that Wriothesley has already finished unfastening, he takes the moment to do the same. His upper body is bare this way, save for the leather wrapped on his neck and arms -- save for his gloves. His hands resume unfastening the last layer of Neuvillette's shirt.
With his torso bared to the other man, Wriothesley spares the briefest thought for the scars only seen by Sigewinne as she patched him up each time. She had seen most of them back when they were fresh injuries -- several of them in quite dangerous places. He's been hurt many times, had people attempt to kill him in the Pankration ring back before the fights had any rules. By all rights, even though he isn't self-conscious about how he appears, Wriothesley shouldn't be willing to let himself be this vulnerable. And yet, he is. If Neuvillette wanted to cause him serious harm, he is incredibly aware of how easily it could be done. Aware of just how much trust he had given the Iudex without question.
Aware as he is of these things though, they're far from what's on his mind. Especially when Neuvillette grabs him -- when he turns them and Wriothesley's back comes to rest against the recently discarded soft robes. Being trapped like this sends such a thrill down his spine that Wriothesley's breath catches audibly, eyes dark with clear desire. His gaze -- that had shifted to the expanse of bare skin he could see beyond the remaining layer Neuvillette still wore -- is caught by the raise of the man's hand. The breath he takes is shaky when Neuvillette removes the one glove with his teeth -- teeth that Wriothesley wanted to feel more of on his skin. He does take notice of the shining mark on Neuvillette's palm... but his focus is entirely elsewhere.
The muscles in his stomach flex briefly -- involuntarily -- at the unfamiliar feeling of skin on skin, at the way it felt to be touched like this. Without thought as the touch trails up his body, as he feels his back slightly arch into the touch, his own hands lift -- rest on Neuvillette's waist beneath the fabric of his shirt. He had to touch him -- wanted so badly to feel more of him -- and callused hands wander idly.
There's a shiver to his breath as Neuvillette's touch brushes his neck, brushes his lips. The feeling was so remarkably different from every touch previous, callused skin instead of smooth gloves, and Wriothesley found he wanted more. Not just this night, no, but any time they could be alone together. When Neuvillette's other hand finds his thigh, Wriothesley is as cooperative and quick as back when he'd been guided into the Iudex's lap, leg wrapped securely around him -- shifting against the other man's clothes as he settles.
'Piercings dull sensation', someone had told him once... but oh how wrong they had been. Neuvillette's teeth on his ear is easily enough to pull a faltering gasp from him, to cause his hands which had trailed to the middle of Neuvillette's back to flex, fingernails pressing into skin. Wriothesley's lips part only just at the touch to his lips, and he has enough time to understand what Neuvillette demands of him.
Easily his mouth opens enough to allow callused fingers to slip inside, eyelids fluttering only half open. The taste of him then draws a low sound from his chest, pleased as he shifts -- as he slowly works Neuvillette's fingers deeper into his mouth with an ease that would've surprised even him if he were capable of thinking about that right now. He's rather content to start off slowly with the whole thing, sucking gently enough for now -- tongue caressing the length of the other man's fingers. He pauses to focus briefly on his fingertips as he pulls back before he once again takes him fully into his mouth once more.
There's a sly glint to his eyes as he moves. He would slowly get faster as he moved... but he wanted to build anticipation -- to indicate just what Neuvillette could look forward to, if he desired.]