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The Fortress of Meropide was home to a wide passel of personalities ranging from petty thieves and wayward youngsters to unrepentant murderers worthy of a harsher punishment. As the Duke of such a hellscape, Wriothesley did his utmost to ensure these types were separated. He carefully bunked cellmates, selecting suitable partners for each room. Of course, this didn’t mean there were never accidents. A shivering newbie turning out to be capable of far worse than whatever they were sentenced for was hardly unheard of. But that didn’t mean Wriothesley couldn’t try his hardest to avoid such instances. Carefully, he interviewed each incoming criminal who seemed to be trouble in any sense of the word. Any anomaly in the system was picked apart in a deep chamber of The Fortress, away from the prying eyes of the inmates.
“So, which kind are you?” Wriothesley thumbed through the thin stack of papers he was holding, leaning back on the table he stood in front of. He ensured the dim light hanging overhead cast him in an ominous shadow. If only to give the illusion of a hardened warden who wouldn’t hesitate to brutalize the man sitting across from him. He didn’t really want to, if he was being honest, for the simple reason that the person sitting in front of him, hands cuffed and resting in his lap, could have made a weaker man cry. It would have been a damn shame if he let anything happen to that passive, alabaster face.
“I don’t think I’m dangerous, do you?” The man’s voice was quiet and articulate but carried an undercurrent of something strange. Almost as if he was teasing the thought of him being dangerous. His eyes, despite the dim overhead lighting, seemed to shine teal, piercing straight through the darkness. The sight alone made Wriothesley more unnerved than he’d like to admit.
Wriothesley flopped the papers down on the desk, uncaring as they splayed out, revealing every bit of info they had gathered so far.
“Well, Albedo , I don’t know if you know this, but the type of magic you were performing that day is strictly forbidden in Fontaine. Not only is it forbidden, but our Archon almost doomed our nation with something distinctly similar to it. Creating new life isn’t something you can just do for fun, you know?” Wriothesley bent at the waist, his face now inches from Albedos, still the other didn’t so much as blink, his wide eyes staring back without a hint of shame.
“I was made aware of that during my trial, the Iudex was kind enough to explain the whole situation to me. I apologize, I didn’t mean to cause you undue trouble.”
Letting out a defeated sigh, he finally let the tough-shit warden persona drop. He was having a difficult time deciding which hall to put this guy in. On one hand, he was quite literally capable of creating life from next to nothing; on the other, he seemed about as violent as a blubberbeast.
“Well, I guess that’s that then. Nothing more I can do about it.” With that, Wriothesley walked over to the thick metal door, knocking a couple of times.
A short moment later, two guards came in, saluting him before their eyes fixed on the man in the chair.
“Take him to the west wing, hall H, preferably one of the rooms closest to the common area. If there’s none available, any of those rooms is fine.” Wriothesley waved his hand, turning to gather the scattered papers from the desk. His back was turned to the door, missing the lingering gaze of those bright eyes on him.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
A week went by without a hitch. Wriothesley heard nothing of Albedo; he never showed up in any of the incident reports, nor did he get any of the various achievements available in the production zone. But hall H was generally quiet, full of people with short, nonviolent sentences, so he didn’t think much of it. Albedo seemed reserved, not one to attempt to stand out much. It was only when he was cleaning up his desk that he remembered: he had Albedo’s sketchbook. One of the guards had given it to him after the trial was over, saying something about it being key evidence in the whole thing. According to the eyewitnesses, it was the tool with which Albedo had created new life. Gingerly, Wriothesley flipped it open, examining its contents closely. He rubbed a corner of the paper between his pointer and thumb. It felt high quality, but that was all. There didn’t seem to be any lingering elemental magic or enchanted runes etched into it. Most of the pages were half-finished landscapes, as if the sun had set before he could capture it on the paper, and he got bored and left it as is. Turning the page, Wriothesley was met with the beaming face of a little girl, her hair a mess, and her small, grubby hands were covered in what looked like soot. She was grinning so wide her face had scrunched up, showing off a large gap where she was missing a tooth. If he was being honest, Wriothesley had a hard time distinguishing familial relations between people. Maybe it was because he grew up in such a blended family, or maybe he just had a horrible case of face blindness, but all blonde people looked a little related to him. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was Albedo’s…sister? He didn’t look old enough to have a child this age. A sharp pang of guilt swept through his body.
Wriothesley closed the book, taking a deep breath, and placed it back down on his desk. A soft knock sounded from the entrance of his office.
“Come in,” Wriothesley quickly wiped the frown off his face, replacing it with indifference.
A guard, Galvaryet, slipped through the small crack in his door, looking around once before quietly shutting it behind herself. She looked nervous, shuffling back and forth on her feet, her hands slightly wobbling as she saluted him.
Wriothesley politely waited for her to pull herself together, his hands relaxing on his hips.
“Your grace, I have some news. For you.” Her voice was low but harsh. “It’s about the new inmate, Albedo.”
“Go on,” Wriothesley waved, a sudden impatience stirring in his stomach.
“I heard from Meilhat that he’s been asking about you,” She covered her mouth with her hand despite there being no one else in the room but them.
Wriothesley felt his breath hitch, only for a second, before evening out. That was strange.
“What has he been…asking about?” He tried his best to feign nonchalance.
At that, Galvaryet once again lost her composure, her face going so red she looked like she might faint.
“Well, you know the “rules” of The Fortress? The not really rules because there technically are no rules, but still like the “rules” rules?” She rambled, doing her best to avoid looking him in the face. This worked in Wriothesley’s favor, as it meant she couldn’t see him roll his eyes at her pussyfooting.
“ Yes, Galvaryet, what about them? What “rule” is he breaking, and why should I get involved?” Wriothesley rubbed the spot between his eyebrows, smoothing out the crease. He was only 30; he shouldn’t be achieving wizening wrinkles in his forehead for another 5 years at least, but it seemed he must’ve skimmed over the premature aging clause in his nonexistent contract.
Of course, there was the obligatory ‘do not impersonate or act as the Duke.” Which was one of the rumored "rules" spread around after an inmate got so drunk off prison wine he stood on top of a cafeteria table and began to boss people around. He was later removed from the general prison populous. Some of the inmates began a rumor that it was because he had been “taken care of.” Which wasn’t exactly wrong. It was just that he was being taken care of in a literal way. As it turned out, prison fermented wine was home to all kinds of bacteria, requiring a trip to the resident nurse. After that, nobody had dared impersonate the Duke. Plus, Albedo was short in height and build, so it would be considerably harder for him to impersonate Wriothesley than it would for most of the other prisoners. Wriothesley let out a dry chuckle at the thought of Albedo dressed in his uniform, thigh-high boots digging into where his thigh met his pelvis, cape nearly dragging on the floor. If that was the situation, surely the guards could take care of it. What else did he pay them for? There was also the rumor warning prisoners not to work for more than 3 consecutive days, lest they once again incur the wrath of one 4-foot melusine with a syringe as big as her own body. But Sigewinne hadn’t mentioned anything about it to him; in fact, he wasn’t even sure the man had clocked in for a single day of work yet.
“Well, the thing is, your grace, none of us are sure if it is allowed.” Galvaryet scrunched up her face, taking a deep breath in before finally finally letting it all out. “He’s been going around asking if it’s against the rules to offer you a bribe in order to get out early. And if rumors are to be believed, he’s intending to pay you…pruriently,” Her confidence fizzled out as she ran out of breath. The last words only just squeaked out before she snapped her jaw shut.
They both sat in stupefied silence, one looking as if she wanted to chop her own tongue off, the other as if someone had replaced his brain matter with a handful of seagrass.
“I see. I will deal with it then, you may go, thank you,” Wriothesley finally gathered some of his bearings, enough to succinctly dismiss the poor guard who’d most definitely lost a game of nose goes between her coworkers. At this, Galvaryet turned heel and practically ran out the door, not even bothering to salute him.
The sound of the large metal door closing rang through the empty halls of the late night. Most of the inmates probably had work in the morning, meaning they were tucked in bed at this hour. Sighing, Wriothesley felt a small, amused smile tug at the corners of his lips.
Bribing the guards was not strictly forbidden, given the lack of a proper prison rule book. However, it was still The Fortress's job to carry out the sentences given to the inmates, therefore making it against the guards' rules to accept any sort of bribe, as stipulated in the Fontaine Guards Guide to Proper Fortress Enforcement . It was usually assumed that if you couldn’t bribe a guard, the Duke was included by association. Even though it wasn’t exactly written down, nobody had ever been ballsy enough to attempt it. He’d never even considered accepting bribes. And, while he had no authority to release prisoners, it was no secret that his…relationship–with the Iudex was good. If the prisoner requested a retrial, using a bribe to obtain a letter of recommendation from the Duke was–technically–not against the rules. He was, for all intents and purposes, not an official employee of the Fontainian judicial system.
Letting out a groan, Wriothesley rubbed at his forehead, The Fortress air was suddenly stifling. He shouldered off his cape, draping it across the back of his chair before heading out into the common area.
As expected, the hallway was void of any life, the only noise being the steady mechanical wiring of the patrolling mekas and the periodic dripping of water on a pipe somewhere in the distance. Wolsey had checked out for the night, but the little food-serving robot was busy using its broom attachment to slide across the metal floor. He chuckled softly as it nicked the edge of a table, sending it spinning momentarily before righting itself and going back to work. Wriothesley strode into the kitchen, busying himself with making a cup of tea. He had more variety in his office, as well as a better kettle. But, sometimes there was something about a below-average cup of tea that cleared his head far better than any high-end import from Liyue’s Chenyu Vale could. Only when he heard the distinct sound of human footsteps did he look up from the slowly heating metal kettle. To his surprise, the very man causing him to develop a tension headache had just nonchalantly sat down at one of the tables. Even more surprising, he’d pulled out a folded-up piece of paper and a pencil, and was currently sketching something, not even bothering to look at the other person occupying the area. Leaning over the counter, Wriothesley tried to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of what the man was drawing. When he found himself unable to, he decided to go with plan B. Grabbing a straw from the container on the counter, he popped it open, bringing it to his lips and blowing. The wrapper flew in a straight line, hitting Albedo in the back of the head with a paff before fluttering down to the ground. Albedo paused his moving hand before turning around. Their eyes met. They both looked down at the offending straw wrapper, then back up. Albedo opened his mouth to say something. Only to be cut off by the screech of the tea kettle.
“Do you want some tea?” Wriothesley asked, already plucking two teacups out of the cupboard.
“So late?” There was a teasing lilt to Albedo’s normally monotone voice. Wriothesley rolled his eyes, pouring the tea into the respective cups before pushing the kitchen door open with his hip. He placed one of them down in front of Albedo, once again trying to sneak another glance at what the other had been sketching. He’s once again thwarted by his own shadow casting itself over the paper, making it hard to make out. All he could see was a figure, slightly tall, larger in build, but nothing of the features. His mind was getting the better of him, surely.
“Could you hand me the sugar before you sit down, please?” Albedo twisted, eyeing the little glass jar on the counter. Wriothesley swiped it up, placing it in front of the other man before sitting down with his cup.
“You know, if you’re that curious about what I’m drawing, you could always just ask. I’ve heard it’s the polite thing to do,” Albedo flipped the drawing so it was facing the Duke. Leaning over, Wriothesley brought the teacup to his lips.
The first sip was always the worst. A gush of bitterness filled his mouth, sliding down his throat like motor oil.
“I see, so you have an interest in mekas then?” Wriothesley took another sip, this time savoring the taste.
“No, well, not really.” Albedo took the lid off the sugar, sprinkling some into his cup, then a little bit more.
“So then…what?” It was rare that Wriothesley didn’t know what to say. He’d been expecting– well, he didn’t know what he’d been expecting. At first, he’d assumed he had at least a couple of hours, at least until daybreak, to figure out how to breach the topic of sexual bribery to Albedo. Then, as if the gods were mocking him, they’d met by chance in the wee hours of the night. Not only that, but Wriothesley had let his thoughts get so out of control that he’d almost let himself believe the other man was drawing him in his free time. Only to find out that he was, in fact, drawing the robotic guards that roamed the halls at night. And not only that, he didn’t even like the damn things.
“There isn't much to look at around here; the sights all get slightly boring after a while.” Albedo wasn’t looking at him, his eyes focused solely on the growing mountain of sugar engulfing his tea. “It is prison after all.”
If Wriothesley didn’t know any better, he’d assume Albedo was pouting. If he didn’t know better, which he did. Especially given the previous conversation with Galvaryet, he wouldn’t be surprised if this was all a ploy to get him to soften up. Nice try, it was going to be harder than that.
“You know, I have your sketchbook in my office,” Wriothesley finally put the teacup down, watching as Albedo swirled his sugary concoction before slowly taking a small sip. The thought of the sugar sticking to his throat made Wriothesley’s eye twitch.
“Is that you offering it back?” Albedo pushed the teacup aside, licking his lips slowly as he tried to get a few lingering sugar specks off.
“I don’t know, is it important to you?” It was a stupid question, Wriothesley knew that before he’d even asked. But for some reason, he wanted to hear him say it.
“It is, I have a lot of drawings in there that I would regret losing. I could always redraw them, but it wouldn’t really be the same,” Albedo sighed, stretching up towards the ceiling, his body pulling taut before relaxing again. Wriothesley kept his eyes fixed on the face in front of him, not letting them wander any more than was natural.
“Is she your sister?” Taking another swig, Wriothesley finished off his cup, placing it back on the table.
“You looked?” Albedo’s voice was even, seemingly uncaring of the violation of privacy.
“I peeked.” Wriothesley didn’t bother denying it. If Albedo didn’t care, there was no point in it.
“She is,” Albedo affirmed, leaning forward to rest his cheek on his knuckles, eyes closed with a wistful look.
“Who’s watching her while you’re away?” Wriothesley tried his best not to let any kind of implication slip through his tone.
“Oh, I have some friends back home. She’s only with me for maybe half the time; the other half, she’s our acting grandmaster’s little Spark Knight. terror of Monstadt’s wilderness, striking fear in the heart of innocent fish.” A small smile graced Albedo’s pale face, the dim light making him look like something from an old painting. One that would hang in museums for centuries to come. The kind of painting that could send someone into a frenzy of emotions: obsession, longing, panic.
“You must miss her terribly,” Wriothesley had to make sure none of these emotions were present in his voice before he spoke.
“Mn… I do,” Albedo finally looked at him, their eyes meeting in a brilliant moment of clarity. They both felt the energy in the room shift. Wriothesley knew, and Albedo knew that Wriothesley knew.
“Your stay is only temporary, I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to catch up with her once you’re a free man again,” Wriothesley stood, perhaps a bit too quickly as his chair tipped backward, hitting the floor with an echoing crash. He swiftly picked it up, setting it upright before making a hasty exit, not even bothering to say goodbye to the other man.
He let out a sigh as he flopped, face-first, into his bed, the frame rattling with the force of the impact.
It wasn’t that big of a deal if he thought about it. Bribery wasn’t that big of a deal. In all, it was of little consequence.
But still…
His stomach stirred as he remembered the way Albedo had looked in his eyes as if he knew every secret the Duke had. His blank expression as he watched Wriothesley skirt around the elephant in the room, only to trip over his own feet, before leaving without another word. Groaning, he rolled over, taking in a deep breath as air filled his lungs.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
the Duke's room was irriguous, like the rest of The Fortress, clammy air stuck in your lungs, making it feel like the steel walls were constricting you.
“What can I do for you?” Wriothesley sat in his chair, leaning forward to lean against his desk. The steam from the fragrant tea in front of him wafted in front of his eyes, distorting his vision.
“I would like to leave The Fortress of Meropide,” Albedo said, sitting in front of him, his teal eyes staring intently at Wriothesley.
“I’m sure you would,” Wriothesley rubbed his forehead. Multiple nights of lost sleep seemed to catch up to him in an instant. “And how do you suppose you can achieve that?
There was an extended pause.
“I apologize, I assumed you knew,” Albedo’s voice was perfectly stable, his tone unchanging as he continued, “I intend to bribe my way out of The Fortress with my body.”
Wriothesley sighed, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. He couldn’t accept. It was wrong to take a bribe, especially of this nature, and especially from one of his inmates. Although few people in Fontaine would agree that Wriothesley was a man of strict morals, he still had a couple of lines he didn’t cross.
Even if he wanted to.
He didn’t want to take advantage of his position. His role as the Duke is to ensure order in The Fortress and try to reform the willing inmates. He didn’t keep skeletons in his closet, he was an open book. If he accepted this proposition, people would know. They would find out. Wriothesley, Duke of The Fortress, took an inmate into his chamber and–
He couldn’t.
Wriothesley groaned, rubbing his hands down his face, and he sat back up, reassuming his practiced posture.
“You know I can’t do that,” he didn’t mean to whisper, correcting himself halfway, making the sentence sound awkward, vacillating.
“Why not?” The feigned innocence in Albedo’s voice belied an amused lilt.
Albedo could be considered a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. One didn’t have to know him personally to know that. His bearing radiated a scholarly air, one that most actual scholars didn’t even possess. There was no way he didn’t know the answer to his question.
“I can’t, in good conscience, take advantage of an inmate.” Wriothesley tacked on at the end,” Even if you propose it.”
“I see, so it’s because of your position of power over me that’s keeping you from accepting. This is quite the dilemma, seeing as the only way we could be equals is if you accept my proposition,” Albedo brought a hand up to his chin, brow furrowing as he thought.
“Look, it’s nothing personal. I think you’re–” A pause. “You’re basically a stranger. How do I know you’re not trying to take advantage of me?”
Despite having caught himself, Albedo didn’t miss the slip-up in Wriothesley’s words.
“So, first it was you not wanting to take advantage of me, now you’re worried I may take advantage of you?” A wry smile painted itself across Albedo’s face.
“Ok, maybe it is a little personal. I will not treat a delicate…relationship such as this one with the kind of approach one might a prostitute,” the ‘I’m sorry’ resting on Wriothesley's tongue dissolved before it reached his lips because, in all honesty, he wasn’t the slightest bit sorry.
Albedo nodded once, he didn’t seem upset, an air of contentment radiating off of him. Still, he sighed as he stood up.
“I see, if that’s the case, then I guess I’ll just have to accept my fate. The Iudex was lenient with me, only giving me 3 months, so I suppose I should cut my losses. Still, it was worth it to try,” A coyness slipped through his monotone voice as he stood. “I hope there’s no hard feelings.”
However, he didn’t make to leave, instead, he leaned over the hardwood of the desk, only stopping when he was inches from Wriothesley's face. He could feel Albedo’s soft breath brushing against his lips when he spoke.
“Even so, I’m still quite interested in you. If you find it agreeable, I would like to propose a new deal, Duke.” Albedo’s voice was low, almost a whisper, despite the thick metal of Wriothesley's office.
A jolt of electricity shot through Wriothesley's body, heat radiating from his core. He swallowed thickly before opening his mouth.
“I’m sure you already know this, but I take my job as the Duke very seriously. I can’t give you anything–”
“You can. I already told you I find you interesting, that’s what you can give me. If you’re worried about taking advantage of me, don’t be. But if you’re really that concerned, think of it as assisting in an alchemist's musings.”
Albedo’s mouth tasted like sugar; saccharine, sticky spit cloying in his mouth. The short distance between them was closed when Albedo leaned forward, his plush lips meeting Wriothesley's in a marshmallow kiss, their mouths having barely slotted together before Albedo pressed onward, his tongue dashing out to graze the slightly raised skin of a thin scar on Wriothesley's lip. Watching Albedo climb up onto the desk, Wriothesley instinctively placed a steadying hand on his waist, earning him a contented hum from Albedo as he moved his hands from where they steadied himself to Wriothesley's jacket, curling into fists as he pulled their bodies closer together. It wasn’t long before Albedo was off the desk and in Wriothesley's lap, their bodies moving together like a large sea creature, swaying in the current.
They really shouldn’t be doing this. Wriothesley should put a stop to this.
Albedo let out an indignant sigh as their hips met, the layers of fabric between them both a help and a hindrance. Wriothesley's hand on his cheek squeezed slightly, a groan trying to force itself out of the man, only to be trapped between their lips.
“I’d say it’s well past time we took our clothes off, don’t you think?” Albedo pulled away from him, using his index finger to snap the thread of saliva that connected their mouths.
In the face of this serene man, his metaphorical Rupert's Drop finally shattered. His morals scattered into a million pieces, hanging in the air, reflecting in Albedo’s eyes.
“The Fortress of Meropide gets quite cold at night. Are you sure that’s something you want to do?” Wriothesley questioned, even as he loosened the already slack tie hanging around his neck.
Albedo smiled complacently, his eyes shimmering with something unsaid, “I’ll be fine, why? Are you getting cold feet again, Duke?” he gracefully got up from where he sat on Wriothesley's lap, slipping off as if he hadn’t just been moving their bodies together like a well-oiled machine.
“I didn’t get cold feet, I had morals, which, apparently, hold very little weight to you,” Wriothesley huffed, standing to unzip his boots.
“It’s not that they hold no weight to me, it’s just that my morals hold more weight,” Albedo stated, turning around to head up the stairs as if he were in his own house.
Despite his wanting to be upset at Albedo’s swift dismissal of his ethics, Wriothesley couldn’t help the amused smile that morphed his face into something soft and vaguely fond as he followed behind him.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Albedo spread his legs, letting Wriothesley settle between them, prone bodies flush against each other; clothes forgotten somewhere on the floor. Wriothesley’s tongue explored uncharted areas of Albedo’s mouth, drinking in the small noises he was awarded. His thumb brushed over the star marking seemingly imbued into Albedo’s being in a way a tattoo could never hope to be, like a birthmark, the kiss of an angel. He was startled out of his reverie by the breathy moan Albedo let out, his eyes glazed over, seemingly unaware of the picture he painted like this. His fingers gripping the pillow behind his head like a vice, lithe body spread out underneath Wriothesley's prying hands that wished for nothing but to take and take until Albedo had nothing left to give, a blissed-out expression seemingly a permanent fixture as Wriothesley continued to stroke the mark on his neck.
“There…” He seemed to want to say more but trailed off as Wriothesley traced over his navel, fingernails dragging hard enough to tingle, but light enough that he didn’t leave marks, no matter how much he wanted to he couldn’t bring himself to press harder, to damage the pristine skin under his hands, soiling it with imperfections.
Albedo let out a shaky breath as cold fingers grazed his thighs, hands almost large enough to wrap around completely as Wriothesley gently kneaded at the soft skin. Spreading his open legs wider, Albedo slowly circled his hips, impatience without impudence, subtle encouragement. Wriothesley took the hint, one of his hands sliding from a thigh to lightly brush over Albedo’s hardness, the other staying behind to make sure his legs didn’t close. A large, cool hand wrapped around Albedo’s cock, earning him a sharp intake of breath.. Precome slipped down its length, cascading down until it met Wriothesley’s hand, pooling in the crevice where he held Albedo. Using the natural lubricant, Wriothesley began to move, his hand stroking slowly at first, his thumb applying pressure while his other fingers lightly held the weeping cock.
Albedo keened, his hips twisting at the torturous pace. Wriothesley’s attention was split between watching that pink cock disappear and reappear between his fingers and Albedo’s face, taking in the sight of Albedo’s normally porcelain skin flush with rouge. He let out a groan as he felt Albedo palm at him, his fingers wrapping around Wriothesley’s dripping cock.
“Fuck.” Wriothesley let out a groan as they moved in tandem, wet noises filling the room with each stroke. Albedo, lying supine on the bed, used his legs to press up into Wriothesley’s hand, bucking lightly to try to get more friction.
“Mn,” Albedo let out a noise, his nose scrunching and his eyes squinting slightly on a particularly slow stroke. His cock noticeably twitched, letting out a few more droplets of precome.
Wriothesley pulled his hand away, spreading his fingers to watch the precome spiderweb between them. Albedo let out a huff, averting his eyes; suddenly having the decency to be embarrassed as if he wasn’t the one who’d crawled over Wriothesley’s desk to jump his bones. His body squirmed on the mattress as if attempting to find relief elsewhere.
That wasn’t happening.
Wriothesley leaned back, holding Albedo’s legs open, and using one of his slick fingers to circle his hole. Albedo choked on a sigh as the finger pushed past his rim, his hand on Wriothesley’s cock faltering slightly. Letting the finger slip all the way in, Wriothesley shallowly thrust in and out. It was warm -normal- but it surprised him; for some reason, he’d subconsciously convinced himself it would be cool and tempered like stone. Slowly inserting a second finger, Wriothesley thrust his languidly; pressing against the sinous, ductile walls of Albedo’s ass. He pressed as deep as he could reach, memorizing the soft curves and ridges as he pulled back, his fingers crooked slightly.
“Ahn!” Albedo let out a sharp gasp, louder than any of his previously muffled noises, when Wriothesley’s fingers brushed over a small node in his body. He retracted the hand on Wriothesley‘s cock, much to his dismay, his lithe fingers digging into the duvet, pulling at the thin fabric as his back arched off the bed. Albedo pressed the back of his free hand against his mouth, porcelain, glistening teeth biting down on the thin skin. It was a stark contrast to his usually blank face, sometimes blessed with a small amount of amusement or interest.
Wriothesley watched, enraptured. It was strange how a practical stranger coming apart made him content enough to ignore the heat radiating through his own body.
“More,” Albedo muttered petulantly, unraveling his hand from the blanket and tugging on Wriothesley’s forearm, his short nails pinching lightly.
And, well, how could he refuse?
Pulling his fingers out, he slipped a hand under the pillow next to Albedo, pulling out a small vial of lube. He leaned back, sitting on his haunches as he opened the bottle, blatantly ignoring the look of bewildered mirth on Albedo’s face. One of the perks of living alone was the lack of need to be inventive in his hiding spots. Wriothesley used the extra lube to slick himself, groaning at the remnant warmth on his fingers as he spread the lube. He could feel Albedo watching him, eyes following the movement of his hand.
Positioning himself between those pale legs, Wriothesley let himself take in the sight of Albedo beneath him once again, his eyes were half lidded, mouth slightly agape as Wriothesley lined himself up, rubbing the head of his cock against Albedo’s entrance. Wriothesley watched as he bloomed like a flower, opening up to accept the blunt head inside with little resistance. He groaned, wishing dearly to close his eyes, but not wanting to take his eyes off the sight before him for even a second. He pressed forward, slipping the tip past the tight ring of muscles and a little more, watching as Albedo’s mouth formed a perfect circle, his back twitching as if it wanted to arch off the bed, only anchored down by sheer will. Wriothesley continued to guide himself further, the heady tightness of Albedo’s hole forcing him to take frequent breaks. Finally, he gave one final press, sinking in the last little bit, their heated skin meeting with a soft sound. They sat together like that, the only noise being their joined panting breaths. Wriothesley’s hips rocked slightly with each inhale, pressing himself firmly against the body underneath him. Some minutes later, Albedo began to mimic him, hips grinding back against the object inside of him, trying to get it deeper.
“I’m going to move,” Wriothesley warned, smiling when he got a slight nod in return. With that go ahead, he placed his hands on the underside of Albedo’s thighs, pressing them up to his chest. He pulled out halfway, watching as Albedo’s body tightened as it tried to keep him inside before pressing back in to the hilt. This time, Albedo’s back did arch off the bed, one of his hands clutching the pillow behind his head, the other coming to clasp over his mouth, muffling any noises that tried to eke out.
‘Cry out,’ Wriothesley wanted to say, ‘let me hear you.’ But he didn’t, not sure he’d be able to hold back if he heard that saccharine voice calling out for him. Instead, he pulled back again, repeating his motions. He thrust slowly and deeply, his muscles aching with the control needed not to madly take this man, to ravenously plow into him like a beast. Albedo’s eyes were closed tightly, his brows twitching violently with each thrust. Noises leaked from his throat as Wriothesley’s cock buried itself deep inside of him, only for it to pull out, holding for a second before repeating the motion.
Albedo pressed back against Wriothesley’s grip on his thighs, attempting to get his attention without having to take the hand off his mouth. He kicked out, his foot connecting with Wriothesley’s shoulder, weakly knocking against it.
“What is it?” Wriothesley panted, sweat dripping from his forehead as he paused in his movements.
“More,” Albedo huffed as he crossed his legs behind Wriothesley’s neck, using the leverage to move himself back. He stretched his arm out, wrapping it around Wriothesley’s neck, and pulled him down. The movement inadvertently caused Albedo’s legs to bend further, his knees pressing against the bed, effectively folding him in half.
“Hng-” Albedo winced at the intense pressure as Wriothesley delved deeper, “Wait, too-” Before he could properly complain, Wriothesley pulled out, dragging the rest of Albedo’s breath with him.
“Shit, you’re really flexible,” Wriothesley chuckled breathlessly as he admired the view. Albedo’s skin was matte despite the muggy air, the only shimmer being a thin sheen of sweat where their bodies had met. His hair was mussed, fanning out underneath him, pale tresses like rivers of sunbleached sweet flowers. The rouge on his cheeks was deeper now, hand-dusted with loving precision by an enraptured artist. Albedo’s legs went limp in the new position, dangling over Wriothesley’s shoulders like a ragdoll. His eyes shut so tight he was likely beginning to see phosphenes.
“More,” Albedo panted, the breaths being forced out of him, making his words come out choppy.
“Is ‘more’ all you know how to say? Demanding.”
“Harder.” Albedo ground out, managing to glare fruitlessly at the man currently pinning him to the bed like an insect on exhibit.
“That’s not much better, I thought you were supposed to be all eloquent and whatnot.” Despite his words, Wriothesley redistributed his weight to his knees before thrusting back in with full force, holding for a second, rinse and repeat; watching Albedo’s eyes light up with each thrust. His head lulled to the side, chest rising and falling erratically with every sharp pant forced out of him. His eyes were unfocused as he let Wriothesley hold him, his soft skin accepting the harsh feeling of their bodies coming together. His mouth was open in a perpetual ‘o’, eyes glazed over as Wriothesley pressed into him.
They fucked at a beastial pace, their hips connecting in echoing rhythm, leaving stark red marks behind. Wriothesley couldn't help the low moans pushed through clenched teeth every time Albedo tightened around him. Nor could he stop his fingers from digging in far too roughly to the soft skin underneath them, likely bruising the peach flesh. He could only watch as Albedo twitched and jolted, his chest spasming at random intervals, eyes unseeing as he seemed to disconnect from he rest of the world. Albedo’s hands had given up on squeezing the duvet, instead choosing Wriothesley’s shoulders as a suitable mounting spot as he dug his nails in. Their chests were nearly touching when Wriothesley leaned down, his hips continuing to move as their labored breath mingled.
“Gonna-” Wriothesley’s eyes squeezed shut as Albedo instantly tightened up, walls closing in around his cock. “Fuck.” Wriothesley ground out as he felt his grip on reality slip. His body burned with his release, his hips snapping forward irregularly before finally just thrusting in to the hilt, grinding as deep as he could go. Their hips moved together like this, humping against each other where they met, Wriothesley’s cock pressing incesantly on the spot inside of Albedo that made him gasp.
“Ngh-,” Albedo’s body seized, his hands on Wriothesley’s shoulders going placid, leaving only the deep moon carvings of his fingernails in their wake as he came. His nose scrunched up, eyes closed tight as his hips jerked, legs still held firmly in Wriothesley’s grasp.
They lay there quietly, panting into each other's mouths, Albedo’s spend quickly drying between their torsos, Wriothesley’s beginning to dribble out from where they were connected.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson,” Wriothesley stood, with his hands on his hips, at the mouth of The Fortress. It had been a while since he’d seen the sunlight from above ground, and it was stiflingly warm. “No more creating living beings through unnatural and undocumented means.”
“Yes, it seems I’ll need to make sure I brush up on the laws of other nations more thoroughly in my future travels.” Albedo nodded, “Or get better at bribery.”
“You’re plenty good at bribery, I’m just a rule follower,” Wriothesley grinned at the unimpressed look Albedo sent his way. “Do you have everything you need to get back home?”
“And if I don’t?” Albedo smiled, a hand on his hip, “Are you going to offer me room and board?”
“Of course, all prisoners are welcome to stay in The Fortress of Meropide for as long as they like, you know that.” Wriothesley matched that sly smile with one of his own, ignoring the noise of hardly contained protest from the guards on post at the entrance to The Fortress. They had likely had quite enough of whatever was going on between their duke and the foreign inmate who’d managed to wiggle his way into the Duke’s good graces.
“As much as I enjoy the calming ambiance of dripping pipes and suspicious mint jelly, I really do have to get back to Mondstadt. Klee is likely getting into more trouble than the knights can handle by now.” Albedo sighed, closing his eyes as if imagining the wreckage of his home at the hands of one little girl. It must have been immense as he opened them and immediately picked up the small backpack given back to him once his sentence was over.
“I appreciate the effort you put forth in making sure my stay at The Fortress was communicated with The Knights,” Albedo nodded his thanks, turning around to begin the travel back to Mondstadt, “and to my wellbeing while under your care.” Wriothesley felt the air in his lungs forced out of him like a punch to the gut. He watched Albedo’s back as he walked away, wanting to say something, to call out and make him turn around. But, when he thought about that picture of Klee in Albedo’s sketchbook, he couldn’t bring himself to. That sketchbook…
The sketchbook!
Wriothesley inhaled sharply, eyes blown wide. “Wait!” He called, turning heel to rush back into The Fortress. The guards, so startled by his sudden outburst, didn’t even have time to hold open for their duke before he was gone, the sound of his frantic footsteps echoing through the metal hallway.
Wriothesley threw open the door to his office and didn’t slip on the carpet when he propelled himself at the desk. He dropped to his knees, opening the top drawer with so much force that he heard the teacup on his desk rock in its saucer. He stared at the empty drawer for longer than he probably needed to. It wasn’t there. Slowly, Wriothesley rose to his feet, using the edge of his desk to balance. It was only when he felt the distinct crumple of paper under his fingers that he looked. There, sitting on his desk, was a sketchbook page. Unable to control himself, Wriothesley broke into a lip-splitting smile.
He turned the drawing- a beautifully rendered charcoal sketch of himself- around. On the back was a small signature, a pseudonym Wriothesley had become acquainted with in his time around Albedo. Along with a note.
‘I hope you don’t mind, but I took my sketchbook back a bit prematurely. I was taken with a sudden, mysterious bout of inspiration recently and needed my materials to properly convey my ideas. If, in the future, I’m hit by a similar impetus, I should hope that you would be willing to take a break from The Fortress to serve as a muse? If not, that’s fine too, I could always just break another law in Fontaine.’
Wriothesley let out a long, mirthful sigh, his cheeks sore from the force of his grin.
He’d never been to Mondstadt before, but Neuvillete had mentioned wishing to try water from the Springvale lake before. If they were to take a small detour to Mondstadt city, who was going to argue?