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Wriothesley waits until Neuvillette’s barriers are completely broken down to mention it.
“My rut,” he says, broaching a topic that he usually avoids. Wriothesley’s face close to Neuvillette’s ear as they lay about in post-orgasmic bliss. “You asked me about it, once.”
They’re sweaty and beat. Wriothesley is a puddle in the sheets, tucked against Neuvillette’s side as they laze about in that afterglow, in the warmth of each other’s bodies. Neuvillette’s claws drag through his hair, across his scalp, and Wriothesley’s spine tingles, his cock stirs, the touch sinking into his bones—
No, no, not the time for that. Yet. He needs a moment, and besides, this is important.
Neuvillette’s claws don’t still, but they do slow. “I’ve never pressed, but I have noticed it is not something you enjoy talking about.”
“I—” Wriothesley clears his throat. “Well, you know my preferences when it comes to… It makes ruts a little difficult when you don’t want to…” He trails off, waving at his freshly fucked self. Breeding another isn’t on his bingo card, so to speak.
Neuvillette hums softly, dragging his hand down the length of Wriothesley’s side, across his backside, between his ass cheeks to idly massage his loose and spent hole. “I can see how that might very well be a dilemma.”
“I wasn’t avoiding the topic, there just isn’t much to say about it. I lock myself in my rooms and fuck my hand until it eases off.”
“Is that not painful?” Neuvillette asks this sincerely, with concern.
Wriothesley snorts. “Not in the way you think. Merely unsatisfying. Like, it gets the job done, but I’m left empty. My alpha wants more, wants to sink into a wet hole instead of being the wet hole, if you catch my drift. Which, like, I don't dislike that, but I know that you... Anyway, my point in mentioning this was I have a rut coming up.”
“Ah, so you’ll be indisposed for a few days. Contrary to popular belief, Wriothesley, I can function without you.”
“No, that’s not—” Wriothesley is so woefully bad at being selfish, at showing his hand and desires. He shifts, pressing closer, his voice falling quiet. “I was going to ask you to join me.”
Neuvillette fully stills then. “Not that I think you do not remember, but I have my preferences as well—”
“Which is perfectly fine,” cuts in Wriothesley. “I still want you to fuck me. That’s all I want. Because we’re… you and I are… I mean, with a partner I think it’ll still be easier, but I don’t really have a frame of reference.”
Neuvillette leans back to look at him, his pale eyes soft and affectionate. He brushes Wriothesley’s bangs back and asks, “Have you never tried this with a previous partner?”
Wriothesley pinks at that. He doesn’t like thinking of them, those that came before. It’s different now. Neuvillette isn’t a random fling. “I have,” he says slowly, “but they never… It’d be different with you. You’re my mate, right?”
A soft, sweet word that they’ve thrown around but never truly committed to. Neuvillette isn’t the same, he doesn’t have a secondary gender, really, more akin to a beta than anything else. Instincts, yes, but that comes from being the Sovereign Hydro Dragon, a different kind of ancient, biological need.
He can bite at Wriothesley’s neck all he wants, but the bond is different. Still, Wriothesley thinks the emotional aspect, the need of his partner, might very well be enough to make his cycle bearable.
“Wriothesley,” says Neuvillette then, thumbing over the rise of his cheek, “there is no need to give yourself to me at such a vulnerable time.”
“That isn’t it. I just want to spend it with you. You always make me feel better, ground me.” Wriothesley’s mouth then widens into a smirk. “Besides, I think you’d enjoy yourself. I get all hot and bothered, needy in a different way. Don’t you like a little fight from time to time?”
Neuvillette’s nostrils flare at the thought. Oh, he likes that. Neuvillette is a lover in many different ways, depending on his mood. Desperate at times, wanting it hard and fast; loving at others, wanting it slow and sweet. Sometimes he wants to wring Wriothesley so dry that he’s gone in the sheets, his cock entirely spent.
But to take him during his rut… Neuvillette purrs slightly, his eyes going half-lidded and narrowly slit.
“Beloved,” he says then, dipping forward to press a kiss against Wriothesley’s head, “I will take such good care of you.”
“I know,” replies Wriothesley. And he does— Gods, he knows. Wriothesley can imagine it now, Neuvillette’s hands all over him as he pops a knot to the feel of being filled.
Wriothesley’s cock is half-hard again, despite having recently spilled.
Neuvillette notices, his knuckles brushing against it. “What’s this?”
“Mmhn, it’s obvious, no? We’re talking about my rut and that makes me needy.”
“More, then?” Neuvillette mouths at his ear, Wriothesley’s jawline, his fans dragging down the line of his throat. “Have I not satisfied my mate?”
“No, you have. He just wants more.”
Neuvillette laughs and rolls them over, and fuck if Wriothesley isn’t in love at the sight of him, and the feel of Neuvillette’s body against his own. “Come here, you old fish.”
It takes nothing for Neuvillette to heed the request.
#
So, the thing of it is that Wriothesley expected his instincts to push back the barest bit.
Outside his rut, he’s clear-minded and able to reel back his alpha when they couple. Neuvillette isn’t one himself, so that helps. Penetration often causes alpha instincts a pause, but Wriothesley’s overt need has always outweighed that—his preference is to just be filled with a cock, to feel the thick length of one in his throat.
Preferably Neuvillette’s. Always Neuvillette’s.
Ruts are different, though, and Wriothesley has tried this before in the distant past. Never quite worked out. He’d fought back, a little violent in bed, and even if he got what he wanted, he was left unsatisfied, a gaping hole spreading through his veins. He didn’t breed anyone, didn’t get his dick wet, and that was a problem. His alpha would rage at the thought of knotting only his hand, or one of those terrible toys Sigewinne had not-so coyly given him.
Neuvillette though… The moment that Neuvillette stepped into his space, Wriothesley put himself on high alert. Rarely do they indulge in the Fortress, but they thought it better to be in a place doused in his things, in his scent. Comfortable. Familiar. A perfect den.
Wriothesley found himself surprised by the relief that his mate brought him. He’d gone to him immediately, shoving his face into Neuvillette’s nape, inhaling deeply. The ocean. Parchment and ink. The salty-air breeze. Wriothesley soaks it up, wants to climb right into his being and melt into that scent.
That’s a good sign.
“Beloved,” says Neuvillette, cupping his cheeks, “you’re so warm. How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay. I’m more than okay. You smell—” Wriothesley mouths at his neck, teeth grazing the scales that peek out from Neuvillette’s collar. He’s dressed down, wearing a loose shirt that shows enough skin he’d probably consider it scandalous. Neuvillette’s trousers are tight as well, showing off his half-hard erection. So easily affected by this.
Perfect. So, so perfect for Wriothesley, who’s naked, cock hard, waiting and ready.
“Fuck, I need you,” he says, already tugging at Neuvillette. “Sweetheart, I’m empty. I need to— please.”
Even Neuvillette seems surprised. “Oh,” he murmurs, his breath hitching slightly. He’s delighted. Wriothesley knows that look; Neuvillette watches him with a lizard-like gaze, his forked tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Sweet boy,” he says. “Needy little thing. Go on, then, lead the way.”
He knows the way but lets Wriothesley tug him down the short hall and into his room. It smells like the both of them in there. Wriothesley has drenched it in his pheromones, but also Neuvillette’s things; old clothing, new clothing, bits and baubles he’s snuck away over the months to keep.
Neuvillette can smell his arousal, his need, all the same. “Wriothesley,” he says when they tumble into the mattress. “Beloved, mate.”
“Too much talking.” Wriothesley already has a hand on himself, squeezing at his cock. “I need—shit, I need you to fuck me.”
Neuvillette hums softly, a delighted purr rumbling in his chest. “You’re an alpha,” he teases. “Does it pain you? The thought of laying before me?”
“No. No.”
“Of course, not. You’re my mate, made to be taken, made to be filled with my cock.”
“I’m— yes.”
Neuvillette’s gaze is wild, feral, and finally, Wriothesley’s alpha shifts slightly in his chest. He growls softly, a gentle snarl that catches on his teeth when Neuvillette spreads his thighs wide and settles between them.
It’s a barely-there feeling, the sourness in Wriothesley’s gut at being underneath another, but it’s gone the moment Neuvillette grinds against him. Neuvillette’s cock is long and thick, trapped in his trousers.
“This—” Neuvillette drags his knuckles down the length of Wriothesley’s length from tip to base. There, his fingers linger, tracing the bulge of his slowly forming knot. “In all the times we’ve been together, I’ve never seen this. You’ve never…”
Wriothesley can pop a knot outside a rut, he just never has particularly wanted to. It’s a non-issue, something that’s just a part of his biology that he doesn’t usually care much about. During his rut, though, it’s all that he can think of, seared into his brain folds. His dick aches, needs to breed something, needs to be squeezed tight by—
No, no, that isn’t what he wants. Wriothesley wants to be fucked instead. He whimpers, bucking against Neuvillette’s hand despite this thought.
“Is this okay?” Neuvillette doesn’t squeeze him tight, just holds the base of Wriothesley’s cock, thumbing around it. Feels so good, feels better than Wriothesley could’ve imagined. He thinks this is going to work. His mouth is already dry, his cries raspy and full of need.
“Yes, that’s— fuck, yes. Neuvillette.”
“Fuck,” repeats Neuvillette, amused by the curse. “Shall I make you beg for it?”
He would. Wriothesley would if it means ending the heat that crawls through his veins. Gods, he needs to breed something— or, be bred. Yeah, that sounds good. But it’s hard to think, hard to form words with Neuvillette’s hand pulling over his cock.
“Wriothesley,” he calls him, mouth against his ear. He inhales, moaning at Wriothesley’s scent. “Divine. I’ve never smelled anything so…” A kiss to Wriothesley’s ear. His forked tongue drags across Wriothesley’s jaw, down his neck for a better taste. He mouths at the skin there, teasing old scars, and other bite marks and bruises he’s left behind from recent couplings.
“Neuvillette,” mutters Wriothesley.
“You smell like sin,” says Neuvillette, lips sealing around his claiming mark. “Is this what you always smell like during a rut? Beloved, you’ve kept me from this?”
He won’t ever again, that’s for sure. Wriothesley doesn’t think he’s ever been so hard, so desperate to get off. His alpha is still there. His instincts still demand that he pop knot after knot, but Neuvillette overshadows everything. Wriothesley focuses on the words, on that sordid praise that he whispers into his ear.
“Beloved mate,” he breathes, wet and hot against Wriothesley’s collarbone. He licks a stripe across his skin there, “Would you roll over?”
Wriothesley jerks at that, stilling. And Neuvillette stills too, hyperaware. Wriothesley’s instincts burn. He growls, his alpha rearing its head—but then Neuvillette pets his bangs, brushing them back.
“Present yourself for me?” he asks sweetly.
Wriothesley’s alpha balks at the idea, but his body moves, rolling over. He wants to please, wants to be good. Neuvillette’s hands are a balm on his heated skin.
“Good boy,” he says, his palms gentle against his back, tracing the dips of Wriothesley’s spine.
His alpha calms, settling in his chest, lulled by his need for his mate. Neuvillette is patient, soft with his words, sweet with his touch. “Just like that,” he says, pulling at Wriothesley’s ass, thumb dragging through the cleft of it—only to pause at the wetness he finds there.
Wriothesley’s alpha curdles with embarrassment. He’d prepared himself, knowing he’d want it hard and fast, knowing that he’d want Neuvillette to just sink right in. His knot aches, pulsing with the need to come. He can fuck Neuvillete’s hand, his own hand, the damn bed sheets—Wriothesley doesn’t care anymore. Anything to quell the fire that washes over him.
Too hot. Too needy. His alpha hisses at being turned onto his belly, but then Neuvillette’s thumb sweeps over his hole again, spreading the oil, just barely sinking the tip in.
“Already ready for me.” Neuvillette is awed, choked up, perhaps. He pets Wriothesley’s slick rim, testing its give. “I could sink right in.”
“Then do it,” hisses Wriothesley. “Gods, please just—” He whimpers, arching in the sheets, lifting his hips. “I need you. I need you like nothing else. I’m hot. It hurts—it hurts—”
“Shhhhh.” Neuvillette’s hand is cool against the small of his back as he steadies Wriothesley. “You want me to fuck you? Breed you?”
Oh. Oh. Heat suffuses, spreading through Wriothesley’s bones, his veins. Neuvillette pulls his thumb free and fumbles with his trousers enough to free his cock. He slicks it with Hydro, groaning as the tip is pressed to Wriothesley’s hole.
He thrusts in with a hard, sharp thrust that sends Wriothesley skidding across the sheets. Wriothesley fumbles, scrabbling against the bed to ground himself, levering back against him, forcing Neuvillette to move, to fuck him fast and deep.
There has never been a person more in tune with Wriothesley than Neuvillette. He knows just what he needs, just how to work him. Even with Wriothesley’s alpha awkward in his chest, torn between lashing out and giving in, Neuvillette just gives and gives and gives.
Mate, he thinks, he knows. Neuvillette presses against his back, heavy against Wriothesley. He mouths at his neck, fucks him with punctuated thrusts that make Wriothesley’s legs shake.
Gods, it’s good— and even Wriothesley’s alpha finds comfort in being taken care of. The relief is palpable, Neuvillette’s cock thick in his ass. Even his knot is bearable. It aches, yes. Wriothesley moans in the sheets, dragging it across the mattress.
“Neuvillette,” he hisses. “Neuvillette, fuck, you’re perfect.”
“So tight.” Neuvillette makes a sound that Wriothesley’s never heard before, a strangled cry of his name as he yanks Wriothesley back onto his cock. The grip on Wriothesley’s hips is bruising. Neuvillette shifts, the angle changing, his cock slides against the perfect spot, and Wriothesley nearly spills right then and there.
But he can’t. He can’t. His knot makes it hard, and his alpha is still desperate for him to stick it in whatever slick hole he can find. Wriothesley whines, a truly pathetic sound that he tries to hide in the crook of his elbow. Rutting against the comforter isn’t enough, not even Neuvillette inside of him is enough.
“More,” gasps Wriothesley. “Neuvillette, more, more. My knot—I—fuck, it’s—”
Neuvillette drapes against his back. He’s still half-clothed, and the fabric chafes Wriothesley’s skin. Should’ve undressed, should’ve taken his time to strip Neuvillette down, but he was too hungry to not be fucked immediately.
The rut takes over, blinding him with need. Neuvillette shushes him again, his voice warm and soothing. “Beloved,” he murmurs against his ear, kissing it gently. An arm wraps around Wriothesley, a hand splayed against his belly.
“More?” Neuvillette doesn’t need an answer. He’s merely teasing as he grinds his cock so deep that Wriothesley sees stars. “Your knot,” says Neuvillette then, his palm cool against it, “is so hard. Is this what you wanted?”
Yes, yes, yes. Wriothesley curses when Neuvillette’s hand squeezes around his knot tightly. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, that’s—”
Neuvillette still fucks him hard, but not fast; no, these are slow, languid thrusts that rearrange Wriothesley’s brain, his insides, everything in his being. Even Wriothesley’s alpha rolls over, desperate to please his mate, to hear how good he feels, to come on Neuvillette’s cock, and rutting against his fist.
Wriothesley snaps, cracking under the pressure, under the heat. He spills, making an absolute mess of the sheets. He comes so hard, so much that it nearly hurts. There is semen everywhere. Ruts are so filthy, so full of messes, where an alpha just comes and comes and comes. Wriothesley’s knot has swollen to full mast, aching—but aching in a good, satisfied sort of way.
Neuvillette thrusts once, twice, and then he’s coming too, falling over that edge with him as he growls his name. He keeps squeezing Wriothesley’s knot, his hand tight around it, feeling the way it pulses, extra spurts of white-hot come spilling into their nest.
The comedown is like slow-motion. Neuvillette collapses against Wriothesley’s back, tired, spent, groaning softly as he gives another aborted thrust of his cock.
Wriothesley’s length is still rock hard, his knot so full that it fills Neuvillette’s entire fist.
“Beloved.” Neuvillette nips at the top of his spine before he buries his nose into Wriothesley’s hair, inhaling deep, scenting him, tasting him. Then Neuvillette guides them onto their sides, his cock still shoved deep and showing no signs of softening.
Thank god for his inhuman nature. Neuvillette might just be able to keep up.
Perfect. Fuck, it’s— Wriothesley keens, melting into the pillows, against Neuvillette’s chest.
“So good for me,” says Neuvillette, dragging his thumb over the swell of his knot. He massages it, squeezing it, coaxes Wriothesley through the aftershocks of his pleasure.
He’ll need it again, Wriothesley will need all of this again, but for now, he’s satiated. It worked. He was right, Neuvillette is just built differently, or maybe it’s because it’s love, because they’re mates and they share a bond unlike anything else—Wriothesley isn’t going to complain.
For the first time in his life, his rut hasn’t blinded him with unwanted need. The desire to fuck something is there, but Neuvillette’s heft against him is pleasantly distracted. Even Wriothesley’s alpha has found peace, sated.
“This,” says Neuvillette once more, stroking across Wriothesley’s knot with his thumb. “I would like to see more of this.”
“Well, good news.” Wriothesley’s voice is raspy. He’s parched, desperate for water. Later. Neuvillette will treat him later. “I have an inkling you’ll get a lot of my knot over the next few days.”
Neuvillette chuckles, a rare show of humor. His chin rests near Wriothesley’s shoulder, unwilling to be anything other than plastered together. “Are you feeling better? Did this help?”
Wriothesley could laugh. Neuvillette damn well knows it helped, he can smell the satisfaction leaking from Wriothesley’s bones. He wants to hear it though, and Wriothesley is more than willing to oblige.
“I feel amazing. Like… yes, it was perfect. I’m—I’m good.”
“And your knot?” Neuvillette can’t stop himself from squeezing it gently, over and over, petting it.
“Mhmmn, keep doing that, please.”
These after moments are quiet. Wriothesley dozes with Neuvillette’s hand on his knot, easing him through the rest of it. It’s still early in his rut. Wriothesley is still clear-headed enough to just enjoy this touch.
“It’s going to get worse,” he eventually says as his cock starts to flag. “I’m going too—I’ll probably put up a bit of a fight.”
“Nothing that I can’t handle.” Neuvillette kisses his shoulder, mildly amused by the image. “As you said, I like it when you’re… feisty.”
“Feisty? Never call me that again.”
Finally, Wriothesley’s knot is soothed entirely, and his cock, while still half-hard, seems to be resting. He stretches, groaning at the tightness of his muscles, at the way his joints ache. He’s too old for this. But Neuvillette is there, and he sees; he pulls at those aching spots, pressing his knuckles in, kneading away every sore pulse.
“How long until the next wave?”
Wriothesley doesn’t know, but he feels only mildly buzzed, still drunk on his last orgasm. “A bit,” he says. “I think I can catch a good rest.”
Neuvillette moves, standing from the bed, leaving Wriothesley abruptly cold. “I’ll get you water and a snack—Miss Sigewinne left a care package on the counter. Don’t give me that look, Wriothesley.”
“I’m not.”
He is. Wriothesley can feel his lips pull into a frown. His alpha doesn’t want Neuvillette to leave. He belongs here, in his nest, fucking him, touching his knot, grinding—
So maybe he’s deeper in his rut than he thought.
Wriothesley groans, waving a hand at him. “I won’t die, just be quick.”
Neuvillette is, in fact, quick. He’s back only moments later, kicking off his clothing as Wriothesley sits in the bed, hazily downing what Sigewinne calls protein bars. He swathed in the blankets, smelling like Neuvillette, like sex, like his come. Gods, it’s good.
That’s the rut thinking, of course.
But, for the first time, Wriothesley thinks that being so addled isn’t the worst-case scenario. The bed dips underneath Neuvillette’s weight. His hand is a brand against Wriothesley’s skin, and it traces scars, and freckles, the base of Wriothesley’s cock.
“Your knot,” he says then, giving Wriothesley a heady, licentious look. “Can I taste it? Later, I mean, you have need of my services again.”
“Services? Fuck, you need to work on your bedroom talk.” Wriothesley laughs, though, pulling Neuvillette close, tangling their legs together. “Like this, for now. I just want to scent you, to be close. But later… Hm, yes.”
Later, Wriothesley learns just how wicked Neuvillette can be with his fingers and mouth. Knotting—Wriothesley has never cared for it much, until now. Neuvillette is enamored with it though, taking him over and over again, squeezing Wriothesley’s knot in his hand until he’s coming dry, his alpha wholly sated, as the burn of his rut fizzles away.