Chapter 1: The Only Sea to Drown In
Chapter Text
He can hear his Mate pacing outside his study door.
Wriothesley, Drake Warden to the Frostdweller Dragons and recently Mated to the Tidefolk Dragon Neuvillette, pauses in reviewing the documents Roquefort had brought him from the wheelhouse of the Wingalet. The papers mostly contain reports for upcoming weather that the Captain is concerned about, especially since they are soon leaving Tidefolk territory, and the seas will become rougher.
It takes a formidable Tidefolk Dragon to control the sea this far out from their Court of Tides, and Lady Egeria is no exception. Wriothesley is glad to have kept himself relatively in her good graces. No matter how much he desires to question her methods and tear her a new one for the pain his Mate underwent during their whirlwind of a Courtship.
He sighs. Every day and every nautical mile the Wingalet has crossed thus far doesn’t feel far enough.
Wriothesley doesn’t desire to think about that mess they left behind any longer and pushes it from his mind. It still feels so surreal that all of that mess is just over. Wriothesley sighs and shuffles the papers and tucks them aside for now. He can review the reports again in the morning. The sun has already sunk below the horizon.
The Drake Warden doesn’t make his way out of his study yet, though. Hiding a smile behind clasped hands as he leans forward on his desk and listens to Neuvillette pace and fret.
“He is your Mate,” The sweet voice murmurs beyond the door. Wriothesley can pick up the gentle padding of bare feet on the floor as Neuvillette paces. “The worst he can say is no.”
Wriothesley smiles privately, his tail already wagging.
“But oh, how does one even do this?” Neuvillette despairs quietly outside the room. Wriothesley can imagine the way he smooths down his clothes or fusses with his hair. “How does one simply… initiate…”
Wriothesley sits up in his chair, making sure it creaks with his movement to give his Mate time to prepare. When he opens the door to his study, he is greeted by Neuvillette. Even though he knew full well Wriothesley was in his study, Neuvillette still looks up at the Frostdweller with those wide, amethyst eyes. A flush on his cheeks. Highlighting the barely-there flecks of scales scattered across the apple of them that would not be noticeable otherwise.
The Tidefolk is ready for bed, dressed in nothing but a thin shift. His long, moonlight coloured hair is already braided for the night. Normally, Neuvillette would already be in his bed. Wriothesley does not press him to share his just yet, always giving Neuvillette the choice. Knowing the Tidefolk struggles with intimacy still, knowing that for most of Neuvillette’s life, Wriothesley’s sweet Tidefolk Mate was afforded no choice at all.
This knowledge is why Wriothesley offers Neuvillette a kind, gentle smile. A knowing one, but kind all the same. Wriothesley reaches a hand to brush Neuvillette’s cheek. Careful with his claws and delighting in the way Neuvillette’s cheeks darken further at his touch. How sweet he looks, with those pretty eyes and the soft way his lips part as he becomes lost for words.
“Does my Mate wish to ask something of me tonight?” Wriothesley whispers. It's a tease and a genuine question. If Neuvillette backs down, Wriothesley will not press him. “Ask it, Mate of Mine. You know you can ask me anything.”
Neuvillette takes a moment to work up to it, even then, but he does, his cheeks darkening further as he plays with his braid, “I was hoping to ask if you would be amiable to having intercourse tonight. With me.” He seems to recoil at himself, his words seemingly coming out wrong. “Of course it would be with me, right? I am your Mate I–”
“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley says softly, catching his hands before Neuvillette undoes his own braid with his worrying. He doesn’t draw attention to the Tidefolk’s embarrassment. Simply answers him. “It would be my pleasure, Sweetheart. Come, let us retire for the night.”
Wriothesley steps from his study and gently gathers Neuvillette close. Resting a hand around the Tidefolk’s waist and twining their tails as they cross their suite to the main bedroom. Some nights are better than others for Neuvillette. The Court of Tides, where he was raised, was rather… reserved to Wriothesley’s understanding, and sexual interactions were expected to be rather transactional. Business-like, just as the rest of their Courtship procedures are. Neuvillette is struggling with the expectations that centuries of life in the Court of Tides gave him about Mated life.
Wriothesley is trying his best to help him see that he, as Neuvillette’s Mate, has no expectations of him. That their Mating, even rushed and used as a binding contract between the Court of Frost and Tides, is far from transactional. Such things cannot be unlearned quickly, but Wriothesley takes great comfort in the fact that Neuvillette has come to seek him for a sexual encounter at all. Wriothesley wants to encourage Neuvillette to seek out things he wants. Things he desires.
In the first few days on their journey, Neuvillette had come to him seeking an enlightening conversation. Getting to know each other’s minds far better than a rushed Courtship among unravelling a conspiracy could afford them. Sometimes, he just wants soft kisses and words. Sometimes deeper kisses and hands that grasp in greedy sweeps. Tonight, Neuvillette comes to him seeking more of Wriothesley’s touch and affection, and he will gladly provide his Mate with what he wants.
“May I?” Wriothesley asks when they come to stand in his bedroom. His hands fall to Neuvillette’s hips, fingers bunching up the silk shift his Mate wears. “Please?”
Neuvillette swallows and nods, and Wriothesley lifts the shift off Neuvillette’s slight form. Wriothesley brings the fabric up to his nose and inhales the sweet scent of Neuvillette. Rain on the coast, and beneath it, something sweet and floral. The flower perfume that’s gentle enough for a Frostdweller nose that Wriothesley has come to associate with his beautiful Mate. His tail wags, and he tosses the shift aside to take in Neuvillette’s beauty as he works himself free of his own clothes.
His tail wags even faster when Neuvillette drifts closer to help. Those slender fingers make quick work of Wriothesley’s waistcoat and shirt buttons. Wriothesley cannot help but sway closer to his Mate to press a kiss to Neuvillette’s hair before inhaling. Making a soft, happy sound to smell his Mate’s scent, beginning to take on a headier note, the sweeter scent of Neuvillette’s arousal making itself known.
Wriothesley is salivating already, imagining burying his face in the Tidefolk’s core, drinking that sweet ambrosia from Neuvillette’s vent itself. Another time, he will ask for such a thing. Tonight, it is about gently encouraging Neuvillette to voice his desires. Wriothesley catches Neuvillette’s chin gently and tips his face up to his after the Tidefolk helps him shrug out of his shirt and waistcoat.
“How may I please you?” Wriothesley asks as Neuvillette looks up at him in a sweet daze. “What is it that brought you to me tonight?”
“I was in my bed,” Neuvillette answers after a moment of thought, “And I was– I was lonely. I just– I wanted you. Your touch, your kiss, and being intimate this way with you. With my Mate.”
Wriothesley smiles softly and brushes his lips against Neuvillette’s forehead. “I’m glad. I’ve missed you too. Let us ease this loneliness together.”
They are Newly Mated after all, only a little more than a week into Mated life. Wriothesley would be lying if he didn’t admit that allowing his Mate the space he has is an adjustment. Both of them are struggling with the new instincts that come with a fresh Mating Bond. Not having his Mate next to him at night or when Wriothesley wakes makes his instincts riot, especially after the bliss that was Neuvillette sleeping in Wriothesley’s arms during their Mating Night.
Wriothesley rarely sleeps well as it is. Years of sleeping with one eye open under the prior Drake Warden’s rule has made him paranoid and untrusting at his most vulnerable; he will admit that. The closest Neuvillette had come to see the effect those years still hold on Wriothesley had been at the Neuvillette Estate, when he’d grabbed his Mate’s wrist after he so gently woke him.
Perhaps Neuvillette’s shyness is a blessing. It means fewer chances for Wriothesley to wake up from a night terror and harm his Mate.
Wriothesley still apologises for the hurt he believes he caused his Tidefolk Mate now, drawing up Neuvillette’s hand to kiss. Lips trailing down to a deceptively delicate wrist. Many Tidefolk do not have the bulk that Frostdwellers do. They are often lithe and svelte in their humanoid form, though there are exceptions. The Tidefolk who choose these forms seem to like hiding their Draconic strength with such deceptively delicate appearances.
If it were not for the rhinophores and his tail, or even the shimmer of his scales scattered in places across his fair skin, Neuvillette could pass for a tall human with his swimmer’s build. An exceptionally beautiful one at that. At least to Wriothesley.
Wriothesley admittedly likes these differences between them. Loves Neuvillette’s elegance. Greatly enjoys how Neuvillette fits into his arms. The feeling of his smooth scales whenever Wriothesley’s touch is allowed to wander and pet the Tidefolk’s tail during low, intimate conversations. There are other differences he’d kill for the chance to explore more, when Neuvillette gains confidence in their relationship and bedroom.
That slick, wiggling tendril that is the Tidefolk’s cock intrigues Wriothesley. He dreams of how it would feel deep in his vent, considering it seemingly has a mind of its own. One day. Tonight Neuvillette desires him and likely desires to receive Wriothesley’s affections and care. He will have them.
Naked, Wriothesley gently lifts Neuvillette into his arms. Smiles at the deepening flush on Neuvillette’s cheeks. How it travels even to the point of his ears, all the more apparent where his ears are framed by the fall of Neuvillette’s pale hair. Wriothesley tucks the strands behind a pointed ear as he lays Neuvillette down onto his bed.
Wriothesley settles on the bed next to Neuvillette, watching the Tidefolk thumb at the sheets as if debating covering himself. Wriothesley lets him work through it, petting Neuvillette’s tail gently. Stroking scales that are somehow soft in their own way. Neuvillette finally looks back up into Wriothesley’s eyes. The Frostdweller just offers him a gentle smile and leans in to kiss him. Delighting in the fact that Neuvillette lifts to meet him.
“We only go as far as you want,” Wriothesley reminds him when their kiss breaks. “You remember our rules from our Mating Night?”
“Yes,” Neuvillette answers, “I must tell you what I want. When you ask something of me, I will answer yes or no.” The Tidefolk reaches for him. Strokes those delicate claws lightly across Wriothesley’s cheek. “And if you do something I dislike, I must tell you no.”
Wriothesley smiles with a nod and leans into Neuvillette’s touch, nuzzling his cheek against Neuvillette’s palm before he moves to press his lips to it in a soft kiss. Content that Neuvillette remembers the rules, Wriothesley moves to kiss him. Softly, slowly. Savouring the Tidefolk’s soft lips, his quick intakes of breath when Wriothesley licks across them to ask permission. Neuvillette grants it with a soft sound of want that Wriothesley will replay in his dreams for the nights Neuvillette shies from him.
Neuvillette doesn’t shy from him now, Wriothesley notes, his tail wagging happily. His Tidefolk Mate even tugs at him to urge Wriothesley over him as they kiss. Sharp, delicate claws run up Wriothesley’s back, and he shudders in delight as he licks into Neuvillette’s mouth. Drinking down Neuvillette’s soft noises of want and need.
Wriothesley feels more than sees Neuvillette shuffle, feels his tail nudge him, and the Frostdweller breaks their kiss to look at his Mate. The Tidefolk peering up at him shyly underneath pale eyelashes before he averts his gaze. Neuvillette shuffles again, parting his legs as his face burns. Silent permission, but not what Wriothesley wants.
“Tell me,” Wriothesley encourages, kissing the apple of Neuvillette’s reddened cheek, “How do you want me? What do you want from our encounter tonight?”
Neuvillette squirms and tucks his face into Wriothesley’s shoulder. “Must I voice it?” He asks. “Is it not enough to want you? Surely you can smell how I need you?”
Wriothesley can. He even inhales greedily, the heady scent of his Mate’s need makes his head spin. His cock twitches where it’s everting from within his own vent, slick and ruddy from Wriothesley’s own burning desire. Scent is not consent, though, nor is Neuvillette spreading his legs and lying beneath Wriothesley.
Wriothesley trusts his Mate, can’t help but do so wholeheartedly after all they endured during their shortened Courtship. What he doesn’t trust is what his Mate has been taught about Mated life. That these intimate moments are nothing more than what is expected of a good Tidefolk Mate. To present for one’s Mate, endure the act that Tidefolk seem to be so ashamed of– Neuvillette included– and then go back to tolerating each other. That’s not the kind of Mated life Wriothesley wants for either of them.
So yes, Wriothesley needs Neuvillette to want this. To give his enthusiastic consent. The Tidefolk could have changed his mind entirely from one moment to the next, and Wriothesley doesn’t doubt he’d quietly continue along just because it’s expected of him.
“Please,” Wriothesley asks softly, kissing Neuvillette’s hair. “It will give me peace of mind. I don’t want to cause you distress. I don’t want you to feel that just because you started something, you need to finish it.”
Neuvillette curls more into Wriothesley. “You are so sweet to me,” Neuvillette whispers like he still can’t believe it, and that breaks Wriothesley’s heart and builds his resolve to be the Mate worthy of this wonderful Dragon. “Yes. I want you, Wriothesley. I-I want you to make love to me. Like our Mating Night.”
Wriothesley kisses Neuvillette softly, pulling back to murmur, “As you wish.”
Wriothesley’s attempt to pull away to place himself between Neuvillette’s legs, to taste him, to recreate exactly what he’d done on their Mating Night, is thwarted by Neuvillette holding tight to him. The Tidefolk spreads his legs further to put his glistening vent on display, those amethyst eyes landing shyly between Wriothesley’s legs. A fang worrying a soft lip. Wriothesley huffs fondly and gently nips Neuvillette’s lips himself.
Wriothesley reaches down between them, feels Neuvillette’s wriggly cock slither itself into his touch before Wriothesley pointedly moves lower to brush his knuckles against Neuvillette’s opening. Already so sticky with slick. The Frostdweller marvels still just how wet a Tidefolk’s arousal is, but he supposes it only makes sense.
It definitely makes it so much easier to slip his fingers into that wet heat. They squelch as they move inside the Tidefolk’s channel, testing the give of his walls, if Neuvillette is truly so ready and open for him. So loose, it’s almost like–
“Did you touch yourself, Neuvillette?” Wriothesley asks.
The Tidefolk freezing up is all the answer he needs. Wriothesley barrels on before Neuvillette can get into his head about trying to please himself.
“Good,” Wriothesley whispers. Neuvillette makes a soft, confused noise, so Wriothesley elaborates, “You did something for yourself–”
“Didn’t work,” Neuvillette confesses, his face burning brighter, “I didn’t want to bother you, but–”
“Unless I’m busy or in a meeting, please bother me,” Wriothesley replies with a groan.
He imagines Neuvillette coming to him in his study, those slender fingers coated in dripping Tidefolk slick, amethyst eyes wet with frustration because his fingers will never be Wriothelsey’s thick knot. Lying the Tidefolk over his desk to bury his face between those pale thighs. He’d need to be so mindful of his antlers as he positions Neuvillette’s legs over his shoulders. The effort would be so worth it, making Neuvillette cry out in pleasure, those thighs trembling around Wriothesley’s head as he buries his tongue inside.
And oh, the tears of relief Neuvillette would spill when Wriothesley finally slips his cock inside his Mate’s tight little vent. Bent over his desk, pants around his knees, or even a pretty skirt flipped up out of the way. His study would reek of their pleasure for hours, and Wriothesley would ache for his Mate every time he entered and smelled their scents so intimately entwined.
Wriothesley’s fantasy is interrupted by the fantasy currently before him, Neuvillette reaching between them to stroke his fingertips on the inside of Wriothesley’s wrist. Trying to coax the Frostdweller to remove his fingers from his vent. Wriothesley removes them immediately, watching his Mate intently. There’s hesitancy on Neuvillette’s face, but his scent carries no distress.
He understands the hesitancy in the next seconds, when Neuvillette reaches between them to take Wriothesley in hand. The Frostdweller trembles with the effort not to buck his hips and startle away that tentative, searching touch to his cock. Wriothesley had nearly forgotten Neuvillette had yet to touch him like this. No matter. Neuvillette tentatively kissing Wriothesley’s tip to his slick vent chases all thought from Wriothesley’s mind.
It’s agony to sink in slowly when all Wriothesley wants is to take his Mate and make him weep in pleasure. The heat and the wetness around his cock is maddening. The way the Tidefolk’s vent seems to ripple around his cock is maddening. Wriothesley makes a broken little noise himself when his cock is fully seated.
Below him, Neuvillette’s chest rises and falls in pants, pupils blown wide. He’s propped on his elbows, clearly having watched all of Wriothesley disappear into his tight vent. Neuvillette makes a whimper of need. Wriothesley hushes him with a soft kiss.
“I have you,” Wriothesley whispers as he brushes his lips against Neuvillette’s rose-red cheeks. “I know what you need.”
Wriothesley pulls his hips back, watching Neuvillette’s eyelashes flutter and the soft part of his mouth at the slide. Then Wriothesley pushes back in, Neuvillette whines and grasps at him. Wriothesley works in and out of his Mate, watching his face. Watching those pale pupils blow impossibly wider in pleasure.
Wriothesley wants more than anything to make Neuvillette come first. His hand moves between them to take Neuvillette’s writhing cock. Stroking it in time with his thrusts. Neuvillette’s eyes go wider, and he moans. Neuvillette’s hand moves to muffle his mouth, but Wriothesley catches it and holds it against his sheets.
“I need to hear you,” Wriothesley whispers. It’s for safety and for a selfish desire to hear every noise of pleasure he can wring out of his Mate. “There’s no one to hear us but you and me.”
Neuvillette whines. His hips buck up against Wriothesley’s. Meeting his thrusts. Wriothesley just grins. Coos soft words of encouragement as his hips start to move faster, fucking his cock into his Mate’s little vent deeper.
So many words come to mind. Filthy things he wants to whisper into Neuvillette’s ear. How well he’s taking Wriothesley’s cock. That his vent is perfect for a Frostdweller knot. Wriothesley feels that if he said them, Neuvillette would combust on the spot. He’ll spare Neuvillette the embarrassment it would cause his lovely Tidefolk Mate.
One day, Wriothesley hopes Neuvillette will find no shame in such praise. He eagerly awaits that day to come. For now, there is gentle encouragement and sweet kisses.
All-consuming pleasure too, as Wriothesley works Neuvillette to his end. It shouldn’t take too much longer, Neuvillette is so sweet and feels so much, and with Wriothesley stroking his cock in time with his thrusts–
Neuvillette gasps below Wriothesley and writhes on his bed. Spilling ropes of come between them as the Tidefolk’s back arches, soaking Wriothesley’s fist with his issue as the Frostdweller works his Tidefolk Mate through his orgasm.
Tidefolk come so much. It makes Wriothesley shudder with want, imagining all of that deep inside his own vent. He bullies his cock in and out of Neuvillette’s vent, knot swelling, readying to lock inside his Mate. Wriothesley snarls with the need to do just that. He kisses Neuvillette’s neck, licks and nips at his Mating Claim as Wriothesley drives himself towards completion.
Below him, Neuvillette gasps, eyes teary. His hands fly to Wriothesley’s back, his legs encircle Wriothesley’s waist so Neuvillette can better cling to his Mate. Claws score the Frostdweller’s skin, and Wriothesley moans in delight. His Mate is making those marks.
He feels Neuvillette’s heels nudge at his backside, like his Mate is trying to encourage Wriothesley deeper. He showers Neuvillette with kisses as he presses deeper, his knot kissing the wet seam of Neuvillette’s vent. Below him, the Tidefolk makes a little wounded noise. Wriothesley pauses to check on him, but Neuvillette nudges him with his heels again.
“Don’t stop,” Neuvillette begs, voice husky with pleasure and his face an even brighter shade of red. The Tidefolk buries his face in Wriothesley’s shoulder. “Please.”
“I won’t,” Wriothelsey whispers in response.
The Frostdweller tangles his clean fingers in Neuvillette’s hair to tug him away from his neck. So he can see the hunger in Neuvillette’s gaze. The sheer want in those amethyst eyes that wars with shame yet slowly wins out the more Neuvillette lets himself feel how good Wriothesley makes him feel. It's the same look Neuvillette had when the Tidefolk first felt the kiss of Wriothesley’s knot to his bullied vent on their Mating Night.
Wriothesley shoves his knot into that tight, wet heat and watches Neuvillette’s face contort in bliss. The Tidefolk shakes in his arms as Wriothesley pulls his knot back out, not large enough to lock inside just yet. He teases Neuvillette and himself like that. Bullying his knot in and out of Neuvillette’s vent, both of them groaning raggedly when it pops in and out. It feels like his Tidefolk Mate becomes impossibly wetter every time. Those gorgeous eyes lidded and glassy with desire and pleasure, and Wriothesley’s blood sings.
This is what he wants for his sweet Tidefolk Mate. No lingering shame, just unabashed enjoyment. Losing himself to pleasure. Wriothesley bucks his hips and snarls at the thought of Neuvillette becoming confident enough to fuck him. To let Wriothesley ride that wriggling cock. His pace becoming erratic at the thought, and Wriothesley bullies his knot into Neuvillette’s vent for the last time. With it too big to pull back out, Wriothesley grinds into Neuvillette, hitting deep and pointedly into the spots that make Neuvillette gasp raggedly and his tail thrash. He must be so sensitive from coming once already.
Wriothesley is nearly there, the swell of his knot the most obvious tell. Neuvillette first, though. Wriothesley shoves his knot inside and grinds into Neuvillette, cockhead bullying the depths of his Mate, the root of Neuvillette’s wriggling cock where it sits deep in his vent. The Tidefolk jolts in his arms, and then that tight, wet heat is rippling around Wriothesley’s cock. The pressure of it snug around his cock and knot is what sends Wriothesley over, and his knot locks as he snarls in pleasure, following his Mate into bliss.
Neuvillette tucks himself into Wriothesley, and the Frostdweller croons comfortingly as he cradles his Mate close. Wriothesley presses kisses everywhere he can, showering Neuvillette in affection. He feels Neuvillette’s hold tighten on him. Wriothesley curls closer around him.
“I’m going to move us, Sweetheart,” Wriothesley tells Neuvillette gently, already sitting up. “It’s easier on my antlers if I switch up the way we’re lying.”
Neuvillette nods against Wriothesley’s shoulder and clings tighter. Wriothesley sits up, bringing Neuvillette with him, the movement tugging on his knot still locked deep inside the Tidefolk. Wriothesley settles them both down in the bed again, resting against the bed so Neuvillette is draped overtop of him comfortably. They’ll be locked for a while yet, so Wriothesley enjoys the closeness.
Neuvillette is quiet for some time, his claws trailing over Wriothesley’s skin. Drawing idle patterns. Exploring where the Frostdweller is hairy and Tidefolk in comparison have patches of scales. Neuvillette’s white scales are iridescent even in the low light of Wriothesley’s room. The Frostdweller watches as Neuvillette’s fascination with the differences in their humanoid forms overtakes him as they rest together. Those amethyst eyes lidded as he studies the wiry hairs on Wriothesley’s arm. It’s actually so very adorable.
If it keeps the shame ingrained in his Tidefolk Mate at bay, Wriothesley is more than happy to let Neuvillette do as he pleases and study him all he wants. Though he blames the way they’re connected for the way his mind can’t help but think of what other parts of his Frostdweller anatomy he wouldn’t mind Neuvillette getting a more hands-on study of.
Wriothesley closes his eyes and purrs loudly. His tail contentedly flicking as he holds his Mate close. Drinking in the moment, happily drowning in Neuvillette’s presence and warmth. His scent. The scent of rain at the shore, made headier with the lingering scent of sex. Wriothesley presses his nose to Neuvillette’s hair and inhales before nuzzling his Mate to leave his own scent behind.
No matter where Neuvillette goes on the Wingalet, the Frostdwellers aboard will know he is Wriothesley’s—the Tidefolk Mate of the Drake Warden in the North. The thought is as pleasing as it is sobering to Wriothesley.
He’s been labelled as a young and idealistic Drake Warden, and there are many traditionalist Frostdwellers unhappy with the changes Wriothesley’s made already. Dismantling the Court of Frost shortly after claiming the mantle of Drake Warden is only one of them. There are already those among their number on the ship who are displeased with Wriothesley’s choices in making an alliance with the Court of Tides. When he lands back in the North with a Tidefolk Mate…
Wriothesley shakes his head of these worries, pushing them aside for later as he kisses the top of Neuvillette’s head. He will never regret Mating this wonderful Dragon. Even for all they suffered, Neuvillette especially, during that joke of a Courtship.
He’s certain their people will come to love Neuvillette as Wriothesley has come to love him. They just need to see his kindness and ferocity for themselves.
There’s no point in fretting over it now. They have weeks of travel remaining. Wriothesley thinks of it no more, instead listening to the way Neuvillette’s breathing has softened in sleep. His Mate has found rest in his arms. Wriothesley chuffs softly, happy Neuvillette feels safe enough with Wriothesley to do so. Wriothesley will let him sleep, and then when they unlock, he will wake his Mate so he can bathe.
Wriothesley hums the song he wrote for the beautiful Tidefolk in his arms as he idly traces his claws over the scales along Neuvillette’s spine.
His heart warring with eagerness and trepidation at the thought of introducing Neuvillette to the North and her harsh beauty. Hoping Neuvillette will find the beauty in it, too.
The last thing Wriothesley wants to be is another cage to Neuvillette.
Chapter 2: Studies in Frostdweller
Chapter by Kalikuks
Notes:
I think while I have summer vacation left, this fic's schedule will be "Whenever the chapter is done," and once I go back to work, the updates will be posted on Thursdays.
Please Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Dearest Furina,
I have no idea when you may receive this letter. At the time of writing this, the Wingalet is only approaching the outer regions of the Tidefolk waters. I had no idea the scope of Lady Egeria’s sway over our fair waters. At the very least, it has proven useful in aiding our crossing. We will pass the last of the outpost lighthouses, I believe, sometime this afternoon. All this to say that our travel has so far been peaceful and quick. However, Wriothesley has informed me of a storm approaching, though I doubt such a thing could threaten the safety of the Wingalet, especially with Tidefolk aboard.
Neuvillette taps his chin with the top of his ink pen as he ponders what else to write. Humming as a thought comes to him. He’s borrowed Wriothesley’s study to compose the letter, and dips his pen into the inkwell he packed from home. Tail flicking in time with the scratches of his pen as he continues to take down the thoughts he wishes to share with the friend he left behind.
You will be pleased to know Wriothelsey continues to refine and play the piece you aided him in composing for me. Sometimes I catch him improvising other melodies in the Tidefolk style of music you taught him. I believe I may be receiving another gift of music soon, though I endeavour to keep myself apart from my Mate when he composes, lest I ruin my surprise.
Neuvillette pauses again and listens even now. Their suite on the Wingalet is silent for the moment. No sound of Wriothesley’s violin. Outside the small round windows of the study, seagulls call, and the great propellers of the Wingalet churn otherwise gentle waves far below. Neuvillette wonders what Wriothesley is doing at this very moment before he turns his attention back to his letter after dipping the pen again.
Wriothesley’s continued study of our musical styles is not the only cultural exchange to have continued to follow us. I’ve managed to teach him other styles of Tidefolk dance. He is learning well.
Neuvillette’s cheeks heat at the memory of Wriothesley’s closeness, the warmth of him underneath his hands as he led Wriothesley around this very room in a dance. The heated kiss they shared as Wriothesley pressed him against the study door–
Neuvillette turns his attention pointedly to the letter again. He can’t even bring himself to look at the inkwell as he dips the pen once more. The motion feels far too suggestive for his train of thought.
I myself have been learning more about the Frostdwellers and their customs in preparation for our arrival in the North. Wriothesley’s seen to it that I will have tutors in the more common Northern dialects. In return, I have been teaching him phrases in High Tidespeech, and Elise has agreed to teach us both more Low Tidespeech, which I hadn’t even realised was still spoken among the commoners in the Court of Tide still. There are a few among the Tidefolk who have joined us who have not been taught the Tongue of the World, and Wriothesley and I have made a point to learn their means of communication.
It's their hope that it will help the tenuous relations between Tidefolk and Frostdweller as well, to see the Drake Warden and his Mate converse in each other’s tongue. They will lead their people by example to ensure peaceful cohabitation. Wriothesley has forewarned him, and Neuvillette also knows in his heart that the Tidefolk, and Neuvillette especially, will receive less than ideal welcomes in the North.
Old attitudes are hard to change, and the Frostdwellers were cut off from the world for so long under their old tyrant of a Drake Warden. Taught to mistrust other Dragon Courts in their isolation. He and Wriothesley will have much work to do.
Yet, there are things that are working in their favour even then. Roquefort, for example, has been described by Wriothesley as traditional as they come for Frostdwellers. The fact that the elder Frostdweller has come to respect Neuvillette will not go unnoticed by other staunch traditionalists.
Neuvillette has also defended Wriothesley and saved his life. Even if there are those who think he’s unsuitable as a Drake Warden, Wriothesley’s loss would have devastated the Frostdweller populace and left the already vulnerable state of the Court of Frost open to be torn further asunder. The power vacuum as Clans fought to place a new Drake Warden would have destroyed the most at-risk communities of the North.
Neuvillette had done more than just save the life of his Mate that night.
And that’s not taking into account the most pressing issue that would have arisen with Wriothesley’s barely avoided death: War with the Tidefolk over the islands both Courts desire to build outposts upon. The very thing the alliance and the Mating between Wriothesley and Neuvillette was meant to prevent.
To think that a few greedy souls had nearly caused the deaths of countless innocents. Neuvillette takes a deep breath to calm himself. To think all of that was just under a month and a half now. He rubs his temple and continues his letter to Furina.
I have high hopes for my part in ensuring further goodwill between the Courts of Frost and Tides. Even if the task before me and my Mate is a daunting one. I do hope to one day write you an invitation instead of mere correspondence, Furina. I’m certain your wit and charisma will dazzle audiences in the North as well.
With warm regards,
Neuvillette.
Neuvillette rereads his letter a few times over. It’s partly to make sure he’s written it well and half making sure nothing in the correspondence can be used against him and Wriothesley. Or Furina. He doubts anyone would blame him for the caution, since correspondence between him and Wriothesley had never reached its destination due to meddling before.
And while they’ve left the mess behind in the Court of Tides, the sad reality of Wriothesley’s position as Drake Warden and Neuvillette’s as Wriothesley’s Mate means there are always dangers. Neuvillette understands that more and more every time he reflects on the night he destroyed Gaultier. That wretched Tidefolk’s main motive had been mere jealousy. There will be others with worse intentions.
Neuvillette shakes his head free of those thoughts and folds the letter up neatly now that the ink has dried. He finds an envelope inside the desk and tucks the letter neatly away inside. More rummaging in Wriothesley’s desk, and Neuvillette has found the small stick of sealing wax. Neuvillette finds himself staring for a moment at it, remembering the lengths the conspirators went to falsify letters. The ways Neuvillette and Wriothesley discovered them. Thwarted them.
Neuvillette just shakes his head. Forces his thoughts to other things, like finding the apparatus to heat the wax. He lights it once he finds it and snaps off enough wax from the wax stick to seal the letter, watching it melt for a moment before Neuvillette lifts it off the heat when it’s ready.
He thinks of Wriothesley’s signet ring as he drips the wax onto the envelope. Wonders with what they will seal the letters they write to other Courts. If they will create a new seal to represent them both as Drake Warden and his Mate. Neuvillette pulls off his own signet ring and studies the trifecta of circles before he presses it into the wax until it sets. Soon Neuvillette pulls it back up off the wax and is placing the signet ring back onto his finger.
How strange to think this is his first correspondence as Mate of the Drake Warden. Unofficial as it may be.
Neuvillette tucks everything back away before he takes the letter with him as he exits Wriothesley’s study. Wanting to get it on its way before they are too far from land. There are still gulls flying about, which means they are close enough for birds to fly out and back comfortably. Neuvillette’s certain that there must be a means to get the letter to one of the outposts; surely, there is a courier bird aboard.
Neuvillette moves through the suite to find Wriothesley to ask. Popping his head into the bedroom to check it when Wriothesley is not in the sitting room. Neuvillette nearly calls out for him when the bathroom door opens. The Tidefolk’s mouth snaps shut in his fluster as Wriothesley steps out of the bathroom, completely nude and drying his hair with a towel.
“Ah,” Wriothesley says as he lowers the towel from his head and sees Neuvillette standing there in the doorway. “My Love. The door.”
Neuvillette’s tail flicks to close the bedroom door behind him as he enters the room fully. The only person who would enter their suite would be Alienor to deliver their next meal. She’s not due for another two hours yet for lunch. Neuvillette should have assumed Wriothesley would take the time to wash up. Considering that his Mate’s tail is hardly damp, Neuvillette thinks he must have only sponged himself off again.
Understandable. Water soaking into his fur is what had dragged Wriothesley deeper down into the sea that night after Gaultier was dead between Neuvillette’s double jaws. Frostdwellers do not do well in the sea. Neuvillette can understand to a limited degree that his Mate would avoid similar sensations to his near drowning.
Though privately, Neuvillette cannot help but mourn that it may take some time for Wriothesley to share a bath with him again. He’s invited his Mate a few times already over the last few days, yet his Mate has shied from him each time.
A selfish part of Neuvillette wishes Wriothesley had asked for his help. Knows he’s being unfair about it, too. He was busy writing Furina. He and Wriothesley are still separate Dragons even though they are Mates. Neuvillette can’t just expect Wriothesley to wait for him like some puppy dog.
He startles when clawed fingertips brush his jaw, and Neuvillette finds himself face to face with his Mate. Wriothesley cocks his head to the side, and with the way his hair sticks up below his antlers like a pair of triangular puppy ears, Neuvillette almost wants to laugh at the sight. He doesn’t, managing to rein himself in.
“Do we have the means to deliver messages on the ship?” Neuvillette asks, holding up the letter between him and his Mate. He keeps his eyes pointedly on Wriothesley’s face. The Frostdweller is still very nude before him. “I finished my letter to Furina. We’re still close to land, a bird could still manage to fly it to an outpost, right?”
Neuvillette blinks when Wriothesley plucks the letter from his grasp and playfully taps Neuvillette on the head with it.
“When you properly address it,” Wriothesley teases. “You forgot to write her name on the envelope.”
Neuvillette looks to the envelope in Wriothesley’s hand. The blank side is facing him. Ah. So he had forgotten to address it. Neuvillette’s cheeks heat in embarrassment. He takes the letter back from his amused Mate.
“I will rectify that and allow you to dress–” Neuvillette starts, already turning from his Mate to exit the bedroom.
He doesn’t get very far when a pair of strong arms wrap around his middle and he’s pulled snug against Wriothesley’s body. Neuvillette is not proud of the little startled noise he makes. Or the way he shudders as Wriothesley once more plucks the letter from his hand and tosses it on top of the dresser before he gently crowds Neuvillette against the door. His tail and backside snug in the cradle of Wriothesley’s hips.
“You don’t have to allow me to dress at all if you don’t want me to,” Wriothesley teases as he nuzzles Neuvillette’s shoulder. Neuvillette makes a soft little noise as his Mate noses up his jaw to his ear. “My sweet, proper Tidefolk Mate, trying so hard not to look! Aren’t I yours?”
“I don’t wish to be impolite,” Neuvillette murmurs as Wriothesley gently turns him around and presses him against the door once more. Neuvillette’s hands find Wriothesley’s chest and rest there. “Or to constantly throw myself at you like some mindless, wanton thing.”
“I’m sure,” Wriothesley says, and Neuvillette can tell he’s searching his gaze, reading his body, for any sign of distress or rebuke of his advances. Neuvillette gives him none, even leans into his touch, so Wriothesley continues. Claws prying apart Neuvillette’s mother-of-pearl buttons on his waistcoat. “But please, Mate of Mine, be impolite with me. Am I not yours to ogle? To touch? To discover and covet?”
Neuvillette can feel his face flush as his waistcoat is removed and Wriothesley works on the buttons of his blouse. “You talk about yourself like you’re a prize I’ve won.”
“It’s definitely a spin on the narrative you know they’re weaving about me, about us, that those gossiping nobles in the Court of Tides are undoubtedly spreading for their own entertainment,” Wriothesley huffs as he tugs the neck of Neuvillette’s blouse aside to kiss over the Mating Mark he left. Neuvillette’s eyes flutter closed, and he sighs as his Mate teases the area with his fangs before he continues, mumbling about, “The poor Tidefolk prize and the Frostdweller who’s stolen him from his Court.”
Neuvillette has to chuckle and roll his eyes. He hates that Wriothesley is right. The nobles in the Court, with nothing better to do, are absolutely spinning their tale in as many ways as possible. Undoubtedly exaggerating it horrendously. Thankfully, Furina will be working on a true, if dramaticized version of events herself.
Neuvillette bites back a self-deprecatory joke about how he’s a poor prize for all the trouble Wriothesley went through, nearly dying and all that. He doubts Wriothesley sees him as a prize to begin with. Neuvillette doesn’t see Wriothesley as such either. At least, not in the objectifying way.
He hopes neither of them sees the other in the objectifying way. Neuvillette pauses too long to contemplate it, long enough that Wriothesley pauses and pulls back to cradle his face in his hand and peer curiously at the Tidefolk. Wriothesley studies him for a long, quiet moment before he simply gently bonks his forehead against Neuvillette’s.
“You’re overthinking something,” Wriothesley muses, his thumb stroking Neuvillette’s cheek affectionately. “What’s on your mind, Sweetheart?”
“You know I do not see you as merely a trophy, right?” Neuvillette asks. He knows Wriothesley didn’t go into this expecting to be loved. Neuvillette knows he is falling in love with the Frostdweller, as terrifying as that is to a Tidefolk who is not taught to Mate for love. It’s not the same as being in love with Wriothesley either. At least Neuvillette thinks. Assumes. He’s not sure. Still. The point is that Wriothesley is more than the status Neuvillette earns being his Mate. “I am in this with you and not for what my position at your side earns me.”
“The fact you’re even concerned about that tells me everything I need to know,” Wriothesley replies with a crooked smile. He rubs his nose against Neuvillette’s in a bunny kiss. “Sorry if my joke ruined your mood, Love.”
“Well,” Neuvillette says after he shyly clears his throat, his hand moving from Wriothelsey’s chest to the back of his neck. He must be bright enough red that his scales are visible high on his cheeks. “I never said anything about it ruining my mood, did I?”
Wriothesley’s lips twitch up into a smile. “No, you did not.” He concedes, his tail wagging behind him. He looks up at Neuvillette under his lashes. “Shall we continue where we left off, Sweetheart, or shall we jump ahead?”
“What exactly would jumping ahead entai– Wriothesley!?” Neuvillette gasps, scandalised as Wriothelsey merely lifts him up and tosses him over his shoulder.
Wiggling as he’s carried earns Neuvillette a swat to his rump that has his mouth clamping shut, silencing any of his playful protests. Though Neuvillette can’t quite process the way his body reacted to such when his Mate tosses him onto the bed. He’ll just have to unpack that later. Wriothesley seems to have made it his mission to keep Neuvillette from thinking anyway. The Frostdweller settles above and astride Neuvillette with a playful smirk, effectively making the Tidefolk’s brain exit stage left.
He’s at least got enough brain power to return Wriothesley’s kiss. And every one that follows. Neuvillette lets himself get carried away in their kisses. The way Wriothesley is heavy and warm above him. Shyly, Neuvillette’s hands wander over his Mate’s warm skin, delighting in the places where the Frostdweller’s dark body hair is thicker and the places where it is merely peach fuzz.
His touch always shies from one place, of course, where Wriothesley’s body hair is thick and dark and curled. Though Neuvillette admits the trail of hair that leads to it from his Mate’s navel has not ever gone unnoticed. Neuvillette thinks about touching there, and feels himself flush to his ears, which Wriothesley proceeds to kiss, of course.
“I love this,” Wriothesley murmurs, pulling back as he cradles Neuvillette’s face in his hands. Neuvillette flushes as he feels the Frostdweller’s fingertips trail the point of his reddened ears. “The way your ears go so red. You’re so cute.”
“Few are ever in the position to call me such,” Neuvillette finds himself replying with a little haughtiness as he tugs Wriothesley insistently into a kiss. Murmuring, “My Mate should consider himself lucky”, between kisses.
Wriothesley’s laugh rolls over Neuvillette like a gentle tide. “Oh, I very much do. They’ll have to write tales about how I’m the luckiest Frostdweller in the whole world.”
Neuvillette has no other reply to that but more kisses. More touch. Stroking his hands up Wriothesley’s broad back and then down. Shyly scratching at the base of the Frostdweller’s fluffy tail, which Neuvillette is coming to understand is something Wriothesley particularly likes. The deep, delighted purr that resonates in his Mate’s chest is a dead giveaway.
Wriothesley’s still purring when he pulls back and undoes the rest of Neuvillette’s blouse buttons. Letting the fabric simply fall where it may with no intention of removing it fully. Neuvillette squirms at the way Wriothesley stares. The way his rough hands slip up Neuvillette’s sides, the way the fabric of his blouse tickles his skin and patches of scale as it falls open further as Wriothesley’s hands path up.
Wriothesley rolls his hips down against Neuvillette even when he reminds him, “We go as far as you want.”
He says it as if it’s so simple. As if Neuvillette knows the limitations of this. Of pleasure. Of what Wriothesley will allow him or give him.
Pleasure seems to be an endless, hungry void. Only the role of the starving void is Neuvillette himself. He’d meant what he said earlier. Neuvillette doesn’t want to seem like a wanton creature constantly throwing himself at his Mate. Yet he feels as if he is. Waking in his bed after dreaming of his Mate. Shyly touching himself to thoughts of his Mate. Seeking out his Mate to initiate the sexual aspect of their relations when Neuvillette’s touch alone does not suffice to sate his craving.
It’s overwhelming, the depths of his need for Wriothesley.
Neuvillette never would describe himself as a particularly sexual creature and yet… he hungers.
He hungers, and the shame of it threatens to crush Neuvillette at times. Proper Tidefolk are not debauched creatures that crave sex. They do not throw themselves greedily at the first Dragon to provide them pleasure. They do not disrespectfully ogle the nude forms of their Mates. Tidefolk do not see a Frostdweller’s knot and think of the stretch of it as it fills them.
Neuvillette shudders. Arousal and shame warring. Above him, Wriothesley waits, patient and understanding as Neuvillette vaults his mental hurdles.
“It feels unfair,” Neuvillette finds himself voicing aloud, “That you come to me with intentions to make love, and I return your affections and playfulness, only to still need to make myself jump through hoop after hoop to allow myself a moment to consider following through.”
Wriothesley’s face falls before his expression shifts into one of gentleness. “Oh, Neuvillette.” The Frostdweller adjusts them both, rolling over onto his back and bringing his Tidefolk Mate with him so they can curl close. “I want you to be comfortable and sure it’s what you want.”
“And I am thankful for that,” Neuvillette responds as he’s tucked into Wriothesley’s chest. He nuzzles his face into the Frostdweller’s plush pecs. Flushes as Wriothesley softly chuckles at his actions. Neuvillette continues quietly, “But surely it must be so confusing for you. Flipping between moods as I am, being so hot and cold towards you… You are far too gracious with me.”
“You’re forgetting I read your stupid Courtship Tomes and understand the societal taboos Tidefolk Dragons built around Mating,” Wriothesley responds, his claws combing gently through Neuvillette’s hair. “I know that your feelings are complicated. Especially with such a rushed Mating–”
“I would still choose you, rushed or not,” Neuvillette murmurs against Wriothesley’s skin.
“Rushed or not,” Wriothesley agrees before he continues gently, “You’ve got hundreds of years' worth of ingrained shame and expectations around Mating, around sex–” Neuvillette hates the way he instinctively recoils at the word in disgust. “--To work through. That’s not going to change overnight or just because we’ve successfully had sex a handful of times.”
“I thought I was getting better,” Neuvillette mumbles miserably, “At allowing myself to want. To enjoy… it. Making Love.” He clarifies, then apologizes, “I am sorry.”
“I’m the last person who needs that apology,” Wriothesley says softly, “My feelings aren’t hurt. I understand that this is something you need to work through. I hate that you have to struggle with something that should be enjoyed. All I want is to help, any way I can. However you need.”
“I…” Neuvillette struggles even to provide what may help for a moment. “I know I want to try again. The spontaneous playfulness of earlier, and what we partook in last night. I enjoyed all of that, truly.”
Wriothesley’s tail thumps against the bed in a wag. “I like being playful with you, too. I liked it when you came to me in my study, needing me.” Neuvillette feels his lips against his hair, the way his inhale stirs the air as Wriothesley inhales his scent. “Would it help, you think, if you were doing more than initiating? If you were the one leading our dance?”
Leading? What– oh. Oh.
“I don’t think I’m quite ready for that,” Neuvillette replies when he manages to get his mind and mouth working in tandem again. “I feel I would get too into my thoughts for the experience to be pleasurable for you.” He flushes deeper. “I must admit, I hadn’t even considered that you may want that. Desire me that way.”
“I desire you every way,” Wriothesley replies simply. “You are my Mate.”
The thought pleases Neuvillette enough that he churrs softly, cuddles closer into his Mate. He feels Wriothesley’s smile against the top of his head as his Frostdweller cradles him.
“We can cross that bridge another day, then,” Wriothesley says as he rubs up and down Neuvillette’s back. “Work on getting you more comfortable and confident with that sort of physical intimacy. I’d say you’re doing a lot better than you may think.”
“Truly?” Neuvillette asks, lifting his head to meet Wriothesley’s gaze.
His Mate smiles knowingly, and Neuvillette realizes what Wriothesley means. The Frostdweller is still completely nude, after all. Neuvillette flushes and buries his face in Wriothesley’s chest, smacking his Mate with his tail. Wriothesley laughs and curls himself around Neuvillette even more. Catching Neuvillette’s tail with his own and twining them. Neuvillette can’t help but smile a little at the now familiar gesture. He huffs and nuzzles Wriothesley’s chest.
“Thank you,” Neuvillette whispers after a moment of simply indulging in Wriothesley’s warmth and his arms around him. “For always being so sweet to me. So understanding.”
“Of course,” Wriothesley replies. Neuvillette can hear the teasing in his voice when he adds, “Thank you for cuddling me while I’m naked.”
Neuvillette smacks Wriothesley with his tail again. The Frostdweller just chuckles warmly and retwines their tails. Neither of them makes any move to part or leave the bed. If anything, Neuvillette finds himself wiggling closer to shove his face into Wriothesley’s neck. Breathing in Wriothesley’s scent, even though his nose is nowhere near as strong as a Frostdweller’s.
Still, it’s comforting. The closeness. Wriothesley is right though; he’s not as hyperaware of his Mate’s nudity as Neuvillette would expect himself to be. They’re simply existing together in the moment. It’s that realization that has Neuvillette sitting up and shyly removing his own clothes and tossing them off the side of the bed before he can overthink it. Wriothesley watches him with interest, smiling when Neuvillette scoots himself back into his hold.
Pressing against Wriothesley once more, only skin to skin this time. Neuvillette buries his red face in Wriothesley’s neck again, is absolutely certain Wriothesley can feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest. His Mate seems to catch on to what the Tidefolk wants, though, and simply snuggles Neuvillette closer, wrapping an arm around his waist. Reaching down to tug up a blanket from the end of the bed to tuck around them both.
“We’ll cuddle together until lunch,” Wriothesley murmurs lowly as he strokes Neuvillette’s hair. “Then we’ll eat and see about getting your letter sent off before we hit open waters. That sounds good?”
Neuvillette nods and attempts to press impossibly closer. Can’t help but smile when Wriothesley starts to softly purr as his claws comb through Neuvillette’s hair. The Tidefolk’s racing heart eventually slows as he relaxes into Wriothesley’s hold. Is soothed by his Frostdweller’s touch and purr.
They do as Wriothesley says and doze together until lunch hour. Neuvillette grumbles as Wriothesley slips from their cozy bed to throw on some clothes. Neuvillette can hear bits of conversation drift past the ajar bedroom door as Wriothesley greets Alienor and thanks the feminine Frostdweller for delivering their meal.
Neuvillette expects Wriothesley to fully wake him and usher him to dress so they can eat, but no, his Mate brings him their lunch to eat in bed. Something Neuvillette would have been scolded mercilessly for in his youth and judged harshly for in the Court. As it is now, it seems a fine indulgence to share a meal in bed with his Mate.
After he’s eaten his fill, Neuvillette properly addresses the letter to Furina after he dresses. In the sitting room, he can hear Wriothesley carry the plates from their meal and leave the dishes on the serving cart for Alienor to collect. Neuvillette helps him with the final once-over to make sure there is nothing left behind when he returns to the Frostdweller’s side.
“Let's go get that sent out for you,” Wriothesley says as he offers his arm to Neuvillette.
Neuvillette takes it and lets Wriothesley lead him through the halls of the Wingalet. Unable to help feeling self-conscious as they pass other passengers by. Only realizing now that this is the first time he’s left their quarters since they’ve disembarked. The knowing looks the other Frostdwellers give the pair of recently Mated Dragons is very telling of what a majority of those on the vessel thinks the pair have been getting up to.
Neuvillette digs deep and calls upon his Courtly poise to fight off the flush he can feel creeping up his neck and threatening to turn his ears pink once more. Envious that Wriothesley has no such qualms. The Drake Warden seems quite pleased in fact, tail wagging behind them as they make their way up to the deck.
Neuvillette takes comfort that the process is at least quick in sending off the letter. He is introduced by Wriothesley to Lafayette, a grey-tailed Tidefolk with sharp green eyes who’s decided to accompany them North, and their messenger hawk Maurice. They were apparently eager to help fill in the need for messenger birds on Frostdweller vessels as other trade routes are established between the Court of Frost and other Dragon Courts.
It bodes well, Neuvillette decides, that there are Tidefolk already planning to work alongside Frostdwellers. It will certainly keep the ships safer on the rough Northern Seas. Not to mention aid in the idea of cohabitation, especially if Frostdwellers and Tidefolk were to work together in such environs. Frostdwellers may feel more comfortable at sea with a Tidefolk Dragon alongside them as they sail. That is Neuvillette’s hope, at least.
Furina’s letter is sent off with Maurice, and Neuvillette watches the hawk carry it off as it fades into the distance. The grand lighthouse that serves as an outpost in Tidefolk territory is no bigger than Neuvillette’s thumb on the horizon. Maurice will take the letter there and return to the Wingalet after some rest.
It will be some time until Neuvillette can send another letter. He finds himself spinning his signet ring on his finger as he fidgets and thinks. Wondering how Furina’s response may find him, if Neuvillette will be in the North by then. How he will have grown by then.
With so much more to learn and unlearn, perhaps by then Neuvillette will be an entirely different Dragon. A more confident one. One who’s learned to shoulder the pain of what he’s been through. A Dragon who knows who he is outside of what cruel conspirators tried to shape him into.
Neuvillette turns his head from the sea to look at Wriothesley and finds that his gaze is already on Neuvillette. The Tidefolk can’t help but reach to cradle Wriothesley’s face in hand. Smile a small smile when his Mate kisses his palm.
Whoever that future Dragon is, Neuvillette wants more than anything for him to be worthy of standing at his Drake Warden’s side.
The last thing Neuvillette wants is to drag Wriothesley down.
Chapter 3: Storm Tossed Seas
Chapter by Kalikuks
Notes:
Hey, look, it's a Thursday!
Angsty chapter for you, this fine evening. Please Enjoy!
Chapter Text
Ice crackles across flagstone. Water surges at the beck and call of his assailant. The sea is dark and encroaching from every side. There’s nowhere for Wriothesley to run. No corner to fight out of anymore.
He’s tired. He aches. Still, Wriothesley refuses to die here. To be discarded into the depths like trash so his bones can be picked clean by the creatures in the deep. Like so many Frostdwellers before him, lost to the Northern Seas, trying to eke out a living on waters that are a death sentence for a Frostdweller Dragon.
The bastard backing him into every corner knows it too, knows how quickly a Frostdweller will drown in these black waters. Wriothesley will not give him the pleasure of his name in these hellish memories. It will be lost to the glaciers and snow, scattered to nothingness like the nothingness that awaits in the crushing depths.
The water surges, black and swirling. A wall of force that Wriothesley cannot overcome as it slams into him. Sends him tumbling into the dark. A cruel, wicked laugh echoes as Wriothesley fights to keep his head above the water. Splashing helplessly.
Every time Wriothesley breaks the surface, he tries to call the name of the only one who can help him. Only for brackish water to spill from between his lips instead of his Tidefolk’s name. Hands grasp him and drag Wriothesley down. The water above and below is crushing him.
Wriothesley thrashes as he tries to fight off the weight of the dark waters. It shifts and morphs, becoming a Tidefolk of black scale that shimmers with rainbow oilslick. Pinned beneath him, Wriothesley fights. Snarling as red runs from his throat in rivers. Pouring from the three claw mark wounds the Tidefolk left.
Wriothesley will not fall like this. Pinned under this snake. His survival instinct kicks in, the viciousness that helped Wriothesley survive under the rule of the Tyrant Warden.
To be pinned is to be conquered. To be conquered is to die.
Wriothesley will not die today.
Wriothesley surges up with a snarl as thunder flashes through the porthole windows. The weight of the intruder he feels above him is easily overturned and forced below him. Easy to pin to the bed. With lines still blurred between the night terror and the waking world, Wriothesley’s claws dig into the intruder below him. Fangs catch the flashes of lightning as he roars in defiance of death once more.
That same lightning illuminates the shocked, pained face of Neuvillette.
The realization hits Wriothesley like a sucker punch. The dawning horror curls icily through his blood. He leaps off his Mate in seconds, hitting the cabin floor hard as he flings himself off the bed in his mad scramble to get distance between them. Wriothesley backs himself into a corner and curls up there. Breath coming in panicked gasps.
No! NO!
It’s as he’s feared. He’s still that vicious Frostdweller, lashing out to protect himself. A monster. Wriothesley knew it the moment Neuvillette tried to wake him at his estate, and he awoke with his Mate’s wrist in his grip. If he hadn’t caught himself in that moment, Wriothesley is certain he would have broken it.
Now he’s really hurt his Mate. His Mate. If Neuvillette isn’t safe from Wriothesley’s night terrors, then no one is.
Wriothesley’s breathing picks up as he spirals. He falls forward, face in his hands. His antlers scrape the ground. The feeling goes right to Wriothesley’s skull, and he more forcefully rubs his proud antlers against the floor in his anguish. He should cut his antlers off right now and offer them to Neuvillette in his shame. It would only be right, now that the Tidefolk sees what Wriothesley truly is, who Neuvillette’s been saddled with for the rest of his days.
And to think Wriothesley had let himself hope that Neuvillette would one day come to love him. That they could share a bed as Mates do, once Neuvillette grew comfortable. Now Wriothesley’s gone and destroyed that fragile chance in one fell swoop.
Wriothesley sobs brokenly. Curls up tighter into a ball.
He’s only vaguely aware of movement in the room. Neuvillette is fleeing from him, no doubt. He should. Wriothesley wants him to. He wants Neuvillette safe, even if it means the Tidefolk remains far, far away from him.
Wriothesley flinches away when cautious and gentle hands reach for him. His own tail curls around himself. Wriothesley’s bones and muscles aching from how tightly he wraps it around himself. He retreats further into himself, into the corner he’s backed himself into. Breathing hard underneath his heaving sobs.
He tries not to shatter further when Neuvillette’s footsteps retreat from him.
Wriothesley starts to doubt himself even then. Is Neuvillette even truly here? Is Wriothesley stuck in another terrible night terror? Neuvillette had gone to bed in his own room, and he had never come to Wriothesley in the middle of the night before.
The footsteps return, and Wriothesley tenses as someone thuds to the floor close by. He is vaguely aware of the turn of a clockwork mechanism. Familiar but unplaceable in his panic.
Then the first notes of the music box chime in the dark, and Wriothesley knows. He knows these notes, the quiet whir of the mechanisms in a roughly hewn box. Wriothesley placed each one with care, with a quiet hope in his heart for a love, if not a life partner, in the Dragon he composed this song for. Built the box to house the small musical machine and decorated it with the sea life and the otters his Mate adores.
It brings with it the brightest memories of that night. Their Gift Gala. Playing the song for the first time for Neuvillette. Seeing his wonder. The way they floated together on the dance floor.
And on a different dance floor as well, the grander arrangement of Neuvillette’s song made a proper waltz playing in the background. Snowflakes caught in equally pale lashes, and the joy on Neuvillette’s face at being provided a single wish of his during a Mating Ceremony that was largely out of their control.
Unlike those nights, there’s an accompaniment in a soft voice. Singing wordlessly, following the melody. Wriothesley sobs when he realizes Neuvillette is singing his own song for him. Offering comfort to a Dragon who’d harmed him. Slowly, Wriothesley uncurls, because even if he’s fearful for Neuvillette’s proximity, Wriothesley is greedy and wants the comfort of his Mate.
“Oh, Wriothesley,” Neuvillette whispers, his voice wavering with sadness when Wriothesley finally focuses his gaze on his Mate.
Wriothesley’s voice catches. On his sobs. On his awe. Neuvillette sits before him with the music box laid out like a peace offering. The Tidefolk’s rhinophores and tailfin aglow. Like soft blue moonlight, Neuvillette’s luminescence fills the room. The bright lightning pales in comparison. It’s not the first time Wriothesley has seen Neuvillette glow. He witnessed it the night he nearly drowned. Barely conscious, he’d seen Neuvillette, fierce and bright like a blue-hued moon hung in the depths, rushing to his side before Wriothesley blacked out.
The reminder has Wriothesley shuddering, the memory one related to his night terror. The storm rages on around the Wingalet, but it may as well be as distant as the North.
Neuvillette moves closer and he reaches cautiously. Wriothesley leans into the knuckles his Mate gently strokes his jaw with. Whining in his throat pathetically as he greedily takes in the touch. Grasping Neuvillette’s hand before he can pull it away. Wriothesley smushes Neuvillette’s hand against his cheek and shudders as another sob wracks his form.
He wants Neuvillette to go, to get away and be safe. He needs the Tidefolk to stay. Wriothesley whines pathetically in his throat again, a canine-sounding whimper of distress.
Neuvillette decides for himself before Wriothesley does.
The Tidefolk presses closer. Pushes himself into Wriothesley’s hold. Tucking himself into Wriothesley. Claws drifting up into Wriothesley’s hair to scratch at his scalp gently. Neuvillette rocks with him, clings to him. Wriothesley, greedy and wretched as he is, clings back. Sobs into Neuvillette’s pale hair, inhales the scent of his Mate like it’s the very air he needs to live.
Neuvillette all the while rubs his face against Wriothesley, the motion awkward and clumsy, and it takes a moment for Wriothesley to realize what Neuvillette is doing. Scenting him. Scenting him as a Frostdweller would scent their Mate. Comforting Wriothesley’s distress the way he knows how.
Wriothesley hiccups with a sob. Pulls Neuvillette even closer as he chokes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I hurt you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” Neuvillette whispers shakily. Wriothesley wants to protest, but Neuvillette pushes forward. “I shouldn’t have woken you. You warned me about your night terrors, and I disregarded your advice.”
Wriothesley remembers. It had been a hard conversation the second night on the Wingalet. Neuvillette confessed his unease with intimacy and sometimes needing space and time while he gets used to their Mating and what he truly desires out of it. Wriothesley confessed that it was likely for the best, as his nights were often haunted like this. That he never felt truly safe. That he could hurt Neuvillette if he woke too suddenly or was startled out of the night terrors. Neuvillette never asked what they were of, and Wriothesley is partially thankful for that.
Sometimes it was the memories of what he’d done to survive under the Tyrant Drake Warden. The Battle of Wardenship that nearly killed him too. Or the caravan that found Wriothesley as a dragonling, alone and abandoned. Vivid memories of hiding under supply crates, shivering in fear while adults argued the logistics of feeding another mouth when there was already so little to go around. Wriothesley knows it was only because he was a child that they even took him in. Had he been older…
Those are the old hauntings, though. Now new hauntings lurk in what is supposed to be Wriothesley’s rest. His near drowning at the hands of that Creature and twisted versions of that final fight at the Neuvillette estate. Twisted so Wriothesley fails his Mate and has to watch as they rip Neuvillette away from him. He feels like he’s failed Neuvillette now. Harming his dear Neuvillette in the throes of the panic that had gripped him.
“S’not your fault,” Wriothesley manages roughly. He clings to Neuvillette and inhales his scent greedily. “S’mine.”
He feels Neuvillette’s head shake stubbornly where the Tidefolk has nestled against him. “No. Not your fault either. This pain was done to you. To us.” Neuvillette’s hold tightens. “How can I hold this against you when you’ve suffered so much?”
Wriothesley feels Neuvillette’s fingers trail over the scars on his throat as the Tidefolk quietly adds, “When you suffered so much on my behalf?”
The touch makes Wriothesley shudder. He tucks Neuvillette closer.
“Just because I suffered doesn’t mean you need to,” Wriothesley replies as tears threaten to spill anew. “Neuvillette, if I didn’t snap out of it, I could have easily killed you–”
“And you did not,” Neuvillette replies simply. “We face this together, Wriothesley, as we’ve done every other obstacle before.”
Wriothesley snarls in frustration even as he holds Neuvillette tightly. Even as he nuzzles his Mate’s temple. He knows Neuvillette means what he says. The Tidefolk has never once gone back on his word. If he means to stay with Wriothesley, despite the danger the Frostdweller’s night terrors pose to him, then Neuvillette will. Even if it means they must continue to sleep apart even after Neuvillette is comfortable enough to desire that tender intimacy and understands he’s allowed it.
Surely even patient, kind Neuvillette will come to resent the choice to remain, resent Wriothesley, in time? The Frostdweller shivers. Already seeing the cage walls he’ll become to entrap his Mate. How can they even hope to have a happy Mating like this? When they cannot even find safety in rest together?
How could Neuvillette ever come to love him?
“Speak to me, Wriothesley…” Neuvillette urges softly. His claws are gentle in Wriothesley’s hair. “Tell me what frightened you.”
Wriothesley doesn’t want to. He wishes it was already the season for his antlers to shed. So they would not prevent him from tucking himself into Neuvillette. Hide away in his Mate’s embrace and avoid speaking of what haunts him. The Frostdweller whines again, pressing his face into Neuvillette’s temple. Neuvillette makes those soft Tidefolk churrs again. Wriothesley is silent as he listens. Neuvillette tries lowering the pitch of his churring. Trying, once more, to mimic the Frostdweller purrs.
There were stories he heard the crew whisper in hushed tones as they sailed to the Court of Tides, of Tidefolk luring unwitting sailors of all sorts into the depths with calls of their names in familiar voices. Some say they tricked whales like this, singing to them in learned whale song, in order to hunt them more easily. Wriothesley had thought it all an exaggeration by superstitious sailors. Then he and Neuvillette had uncovered how a son took the shape of his father, and those stories didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.
Especially as Neuvillette’s own mimicry of the Frostdweller purring slowly improves every time he attempts it. All those terrifying tales, all the ways a Tidefolk can apparently learn to warp their malleable forms just as their element will take the shape of any container that houses it, and his Mate chooses to hone this ability to comfort Wriothesley.
“I dreamt I was drowning,” Wriothesley finally says, voice rough. Deciding to trust his Mate with the most broken parts of himself. “You didn’t come for me this time. Then I was under Essorer’s claws again. Pinned and dying. Then you–” Wriothesley swallows hard, shuddering as he remembers his Mate looking startled and afraid below him. He hugs Neuvillette tighter. “I’m so sorry.”
“It is no wonder you lashed out when I shook you awake,” Neuvillette whispers softly, apologetically. “You just– You were whining. You seemed so afraid. I couldn’t bear to see you like that. I wanted to wake you to keep your night terrors from distressing you. In doing so, I only caused you more distress. I’m sorry, Wriothesley.”
Wriothesley wants to protest, to tell Neuvillette that the Tidefolk is fine, that it’s him that’s the problem, but he’s exhausted. The adrenaline has worn off and he feels disgusting. He reeks like fear sweat, and is glad Neuvillette can’t smell it. Wriothesley needs a bath, a proper one, but knows the way his tail is going to get heavy and sodden with water is only going to make things worse for him.
Stinking like fear isn’t going to help either. Wriothesley pulls back and gently moves Neuvillette away and shakily stands. The Wingalet sways under his feet. The storm is rocking it enough to be noticeable, but it’s nothing compared to the waves of the North Sea. He picks up the music box and winds it again, just to hear it. Neuvillette also gets to his feet and takes the offered music box.
“I’m going to have a bath,” Wriothesley says, eyes fixed on the music box. “I need one. I reek of fear, and it’s not going to do me any favours. I’m sorry you got caught up in this.”
Neuvillette’s claws gently trace the edges of the music box as he stands there silently for a moment. Wriothesley can feel his gaze on his back as he turns and makes his way toward the bathroom. The sound of the music box and Neuvillette’s bare feet follow seconds after, and Wriothesley turns to look at the Tidefolk questioningly. Neuvillette merely sets the music box on the bed, adjusting blankets to keep it in place before he moves to Wriothesley’s side.
“I want to be. Caught up in this,” Neuvillette explains as his hand slips into Wriothesley’s. “I am your Mate. How many times have you helped piece me back together after I shattered, Wriothesley?”
“That’s different–”
“It is not,” Neuvillette replies. He turns his gaze to the porthole. Watching the lightning glint off of the waves stirred by the storm. “We left Egeria’s protection some time ago, you know… Her influence over the sea has no hold this far out.”
Wriothesley is about to ask what does that have to do with anything, but then Neuvillette looks to him meaningfully and quietly adds, “The storm was supposed to end an hour ago. The rain is following us.”
Wriothesley understands now. He remembers the rain. The torrential downpours over the Neuvillette estate. Every time Neuvillette’s pain overtook him, his sorrows would drown the world too. He scents the air to double-check, because he cannot see in the dark as well as a Tidefolk. Under the reek of Wriothesley’s own fear scent and accenting the scent of rain on the coast that Wriothesley knows is Neuvillette’s, is the salt of tears.
“You had one too…” Wriothesley is swaying towards Neuvillette before the words leave him. He gathers his Tidefolk into his arms. “A night terror. Shit, Neuvillette…”
His Mate’s disregard for his warnings about waking him. Neuvillette’s need to be close to him, even despite the risk of Wriothesley lashing out. The reason he’s in Wriothesley’s room to begin with after going to bed in his own room. And when the Tidefolk had said the pain had been done to both of them…
Wriothesley feels horrible. He’d been so caught up in protecting Neuvillette from himself, he hadn’t realized his Mate needed him. Had come to him for comfort. Wriothesley offers it now and cradles Neuvillette close. A deep, stuttering purr rising in his throat. Neuvillette clings to him tightly. They cling close for some time, the heaviness in the air slowly dissipating. The storm outside is gentling to soft rain.
“My Love,” Wriothesley whispers, stroking Neuvillette’s hair. “My Love.”
“I may not understand all of the ghosts that haunt you, Wriothesley,” Neuvillette whispers against Wriothesley’s neck. “But I understand the ones we share. I want to help you shoulder them. I want to be able to be at your side to soothe you after your night terrors. I know we must both work on the obstacles in our path for that to happen… I am willing to put in the work if you are.”
“Of course I am,” Wriothesley responds, perhaps a little too sharply. He nuzzles apologetically against Neuvillette’s temple when he catches himself. He’s still on edge. Wriothesley tries to soften it by quietly adding, “You know I’d do anything for you.”
“I know.” Wriothesley feels Neuvillette’s fingers trace the scars on his throat again as the Tidefolk says this. “I wish to offer you the same considerations.”
Neuvillette pulls away and takes Wriothesley’s hand in his. The Tidefolk looking at him with such gentleness that it makes Wriothesley want to weep for other reasons. He goes where the Tidefolk leads him, into the bathroom. Wriothesely hates that he instinctively tenses when Neuvillette gets the water running, knowing his tail is going to get soaked.
That his thick insulating undercoat is going to become heavy with water. Like it was that night, dragging Wriothesley down faster than he could possibly swim up. He shudders.
Neuvillette draws Wriothesley’s attention back to him with a fingertip gentle on his chin. They share a look, Neuvillette’s eyes searching Wriothesley’s. All the Frostdweller has to do is say no, and Neuvillette will find another way to care for him. It feels like cowardice to even consider saying no, but how is he to get past this if he starts running now?
“You’ll help me?” Wriothesley says even as he starts trembling.
Neuvillette nods silently. He says nothing about the tremble in Wriothesley’s form. Merely presses closer and runs his hands soothingly up Wriothesley’s arms. The Frostdweller turns to the tub as the facet abruptly stops, looking back just in time to watch a tendril of water sink back down into the tub after it stopped the flow. Wriothesley stares at it with mistrust even as the water stops vibrating in place when Neuvillette relinquishes his control over it.
“We’ll start shallow.” Neuvillette’s cheeks are a soft pink as he moves around Wriothesley to untie the ties of his sleep pants that keep the garment up over his tail. “And I’ll be with you. I might even be able to keep your tail dry, but to do so I will have to exert control over the water. You know firsthand what that feels like, to be in the water as a Tidefolk seizes it, so you can imagine why I am hesitant to do so. I will not use my power unless you give me permission.”
Wriothesley weighs the pros and cons as Neuvillette undresses him. Thinks over the suggestion of limiting one reminder of that night with another carefully. At least when Neuvillette seizes control of the water, he won’t be using his control to keep Wriothesley’s head beneath the surface, but his tail from getting too heavy.
“I want to try,” Wriothesley manages, his voice hardly a whisper.
“Then we’ll try.” Neuvillette steps around him once Wriothesley is naked. Wriothesley doesn’t even have the heart to tease his beautiful Mate about how pink his ears are. “Come along, Wriothesley.”
Wriothesley takes Neuvillette’s offered hands and follows the Tidefolk as he backs into the tub. He does not comment that Neuvillette is still in his silk shift. Figures the Tidefolk doesn’t really give a shit if the fabric gets wet. That becomes more apparent when Neuvillette takes hold of the water once more, and Wriothesley watches him pull all of it to his end of the tub before he gently urges the Frostdweller to sit. Wriothesley does carefully, since Neuvillette keeps one of his hands in his as he also lowers himself.
“Not the way I envisioned getting you into a bath,” Neuvillette tries to joke as he leans up to get the soap and shampoo. Wriothesley manages an amused huff, which earns him a small smile from his Mate. “I’m going to wet your hair, Wriothesley.”
Wriothesley nods, watching as Neuvillette scoops a bubble of the water with his hands and gently floats it over his head. It dissipates slowly over his head in a gentle shower, not unlike rain. Neuvillette’s touch, too, when he shampoos Wriothesley’s hair or lathers him with a soapy washcloth, is the same.
Gentle. Tender.
Something in Wriothesley unmoors. He tries to blink back the tears before they fall. To no avail. He cries, and Neuvillette’s tenderness doesn’t waver. He kisses Wriothesley’s forehead after a moment of brief hesitation. Wipes away Wriothesley’s tears with his thumb. Continues tending to Wriothesley, only now he hums his song. The one Wriothesley wrote for him as a Courting gift.
Wriothesley already wants to write Neuvillette another.
Soon, both Wriothesley’s body and tears are dry, as is Neuvillette after pulling the water from his shift. They work together to change Wriothesley’s sheets so the stench of fear won’t linger in the bed. When the bed is made up once more, and it’s time to try and rest again, Neuvillette lingers.
“I should be okay now,” Wriothesley says softly, offering his Mate an out if he wants it.
Neuvillette looks to the door, and then back to Wriothesley. Fidgets with his fingers like he’s reaching for his signet ring, which is probably sitting on his nightstand. Wriothesley makes a mental note to make Neuvillette a ring that he can fidget with. To help soothe a nervous habit recently obtained.
They both have some extra ones after that whole mess back in the Court of Tides.
“I want to try,” Neuvillette says softly, bringing Wriothesley out of his musings.
It takes Wriothesley a moment to understand. He bites the inside of his lip. “Are you sure? I could–” The quiet resolve in Neuvillette’s eyes stops Wriothesley from saying anything else but a hesitant, “Okay. Then we’ll try.”
“We’ll take it slow,” Neuvillette murmurs as Wriothesley slips into his side of the bed. The Tidefolk follows as he quietly adds, “For both of us.”
Wriothesley watches as Neuvillette gets comfortable on his side of the bed. Unsure of what to say. What to do. Afraid that if he sleeps, he will hurt his Mate in the throes of another night terror. Afraid to be alone without Neuvillette’s presence and tenderness to comfort him.
Just afraid.
Elegant, clawed fingers gently stroke Wriothesley’s arm, and he lifts his head to look at Neuvillette, still gently glowing in the dark. The Tidefolk’s hand retreats, but rests between them. Wriothesley shuffles himself and the pillows so he’s more comfortably propped up. He can’t really sleep anywhere but on his back or his belly with his antlers. He wishes their shedding season were closer.
Still, he manages to position himself where he can rest one of his hands in Neuvillette’s.
“We’ll figure this out, together,” Neuvillette whispers, squeezing Wriothesley’s hand. “Like we have always done.”
Wriothesley squeezes Neuvillette’s hand back. He wants to believe it. Wants to trust in his Mate. Even if Wriothesley doesn’t believe he’ll ever be safe for Neuvillette to be around when his worst moments return to haunt him.
But Wriothesley is stubborn. So is Neuvillette.
It’s hope that has Wriothesley twining their fingers together, to hold Neuvillette tight, as close as he dares to for the rest of the night.
“Yeah. Yeah, we will. Together.”
Sleep still ends up evading him, but what time Wriothesley spends awake, he spends watching over Neuvillette. He doesn’t know if the glow is a conscious thing, if Neuvillette, even in rest, desires to comfort Wriothesley. His rhinophores and tailfin pulsing with gentle light. Brighter than the moon.
Wriothesley hazards sitting up carefully. Leans over to kiss Neuvillette’s temple. Careful not to wake his Mate when both of them were so cruelly woken earlier.
“Good night, my Love,” Wriothesley whispers, “My Moon and Stars.”
Wriothesley finally manages to find sleep not long after. Hand still in Neuvillette’s.
Chapter 4: Gentler Comforts
Chapter by Kalikuks
Notes:
This chapter probably would have been done earlier, but I got really caught up in playing Clair Obscure: Expedition 33 lol (No spoilers. I've not beaten it yet). The game has taken over my life.
Anyway, please enjoy our favourite Dragon Lads being cute together this fine Thursday.
Chapter Text
“These are all new.”
Neuvillette lifts his head from where he’s sat in his favourite armchair, sorting through a delivery of clothes that appeared mysteriously at their suite’s door this morning. From the way Wriothesley’s hiding his pleased smile behind his teacup as he leans in the doorway of his study, it’s not as mysterious of a delivery to him. Neuvillette holds up a fine, warm-looking navy coat with a grey fur collar that will end long past his knees and looks at his Mate with playful suspicion.
Exaggerating the way he looks between the soft fur collar and the insulating layer of grey fluff and his Mate’s fluffy dark tail. Wriothesley’s smile just widens, and he sips his tea.
“The coat was warranted. You’ve long warned me the North was cold even in summer,” Neuvillette teases his Mate as he folds up the fine coat to set aside for now. “The rest? Wriothesley, you are set to spoil me.”
“In my defense,” Wriothesley points out as he strides over to come sit on the sofa. “I gave Piper a list of reasonable and necessary projects to finish on the journey home. It is not my fault–” He looks meaningfully at the pile of neatly folded clothing– “That they’ve been overzealous. I expected my gifts for you to arrive in trickles, not in bulk.”
Neuvillette watches as Wriothesley seems to take a mental inventory of everything in the pile. “Not all of these are my gifts, either.”
“No they are not,” Neuvillette concedes carefully. He feigns his innocence as he sorts the pile. He smiles at a particularly heavy blanket as he lifts it. Turning to his Mate, he stands with it and strides over to him. “I made some requests as well. This blanket was one of mine, and I had Piper alter it so it’s heavier. It will simulate the weight of someone close to you, and since it carries my scent…”
Wriothesley seems to understand. He ducks his head and takes the blanket wordlessly after setting aside his tea. Neuvillette frets for a moment that he’s overstepped, since neither of them has brought up the night of the storm. Wriothesley hasn’t exactly been distant, but he’s been hesitant. Pausing a little too long before offering Neuvillette the affections he used to so easily offer the Tidefolk. But Wriothesley lifts his head again, his eyes gentle but so sad. Neuvillette’s heart aches.
“Thank you, Neuvillette,” Wriothesley replies, holding the blanket close. “I’ll try it tonight.”
Neuvillette simply nods as he watches Wriothesley set the blanket aside for now. Hesitates for but a moment before he sits next to Wriothesley on the sofa. When they sit and converse about everything and nothing, either Neuvillette sits in his favourite armchair or the other end of the couch a polite distance away. Now, though, he makes an effort to sit close to his Mate. Normally, they twine their tails but Neuvillette finds that he craves a certain closeness that simply twining tails will not offer.
Carefully, Neuvillette scoots closer until he and Wriothesley are pressed close, shoulder to thigh. He hates that surprise flickers in Wriothesley’s eyes when the Frostdweller realizes how close the Tidefolk has come. They’ve of course been close before, but always in different contexts. Holding close after an attempt on Wriothesley’s life. Holding close during moments of emotional distress. Holding close after moments of necessary intimacy to initiate a Mating to prevent war.
So much misery has chased them into each other's arms, it is no wonder Wriothesley cannot find comfort in his Mate when he’s haunted by his worst moments. Neuvillette has come to the conclusion, after much time spent thinking, that the best thing he can do to help Wriothesley, aside from the weighted blanket of course, is to initiate more mundane intimacies. Gentler comforts.
Holding simply to hold, instead of clinging to each other desperately through despair. Trying their hardest to keep one another safe as those who would harm them lurked in the shadows.
That tumultuous time brought Neuvillette and Wriothesley together as Mates. But it does not have to define their Mating. Do they not deserve more than fleeting moments of joy? Don’t they deserve more dances, more songs? Don’t they deserve to hold close and just exist?
Neuvillette thinks so. For Wriothesley’s sake too, he wants this. Wants this for them both and their Mating. Wriothesley promised he’d woo Neuvillette properly, Court him properly.
So too, will Neuvillette Court Wriothesley properly. Their way. With soft kisses and touches and intimacy that would have the Tidefolk Nobles screaming about proprieties and proper etiquette.
Proper Tidefolk do not hold close to just hold close. But Neuvillette will. For Wriothesley.
For them.
So Neuvillette slowly tucks himself into Wriothesley’s side. Noses closer under Wriothesley’s chin so his head rests there. Like how they often cuddle after having intercourse. Only no intercourse occurred, and doesn’t have to. They can simply be cuddly. Right?
Neuvillette tries to calm his breathing, tries to quiet the fire of the flush on his cheeks. Wriothesley, stunned still, finally moves, and Neuvillette finds himself relaxing as Wriothesley adjusts to better hold Neuvillette. Wrapping his arm around him and stroking through Neuvillette’s loose hair, made wavy with how much time it’s spent in a braid these days. Slowly, Neuvillette calms. Even boldly lifts a hand to rest on Wriothesley’s chest.
Wriothesley still wears his shirt and waistcoats so open. Neuvillette can slip his fingers inside, to rest them below the fabric to feel Wriothesley’s skin. He does so, cheeks heating. Neuvillette had meant for this to be an innocent endeavour. It’s so nice, though, to feel Wriothesley’s warmth under his palm. The way the heartbeat of his Mate quickens under Neuvillette’s touch. For a moment, Neuvillette thinks he’s overstepped as Wriothesley stiffens when the Tidefolk idly scratches his claws gently over his skin. Will Wriothesley rebuff him? Is Neuvillette’s touch unwelcome, especially after the night of the storm?
But Wriothesley relaxes again, and Neuvillette knows he’s overthinking this far too much as usual.
“I can feel the steam coming from between your ears, my Mate,” Wriothesley murmurs as he holds Neuvillette close. “What are you thinking of?”
Neuvillette fights the urge to bury his head further into Wriothesley to hide his flush. Wonders what even to say to answer his Mate’s question. He still ends up nuzzling into Wriothesley’s shoulder as he thinks. They are Mates. They have already partaken in each other.
What would be salacious about confessing his desire for softer sorts of intimacies?
“I would like to cuddle,” Neuvillette murmurs against Wriothesley’s shoulder. “More. More than we do.”
Wriothesley seems to pause for a moment before he makes a soft noise. Still, the Frostdweller teases, “Thoughts of cuddling have you pink like this? My Mate, how sweet you are. If it’s cuddles you want, it’s cuddles you will have.”
Neuvillette smiles despite his shy flush. He nestles closer. When Wriothesley gently adjusts Neuvillette so his legs lay across his lap, the Tidefolk’s flush worsens. He makes no move to pull away. Even as Wriothesley’s hand rubs one of his legs, ankle to knee. A touch much more than idle movement, Neuvillette realizes, when the Frostdweller’s hands trace down the buttons of his spats. Following down to where the strap sits snug under the arch of Neuvillette’s heel.
“Do you like my spats?” Neuvillette asks, lifting his head to fix Wriothesley with his curious gaze.
“If by asking if I like your spats, you're really asking if I like the way they make your legs look, then yes.” Wriothesley answers. The Frostdweller moves his head to meet Neuvillette’s gaze. “They’re very fetching on you. Having them sit so high–” Neuvillette flushes as he feels Wriothesley’s hand path up his leg, to where his spat ends at his thigh. “--Is a very bold choice, Mate of mine.”
“I like the way they make my legs look too,” Neuvillette finds himself speaking aloud instead of acknowledging Wriothesley’s very obvious desire. Not out of shyness, to his surprise, but he genuinely just wants to share this with Wriothesley. “Paired with the heels, especially.”
Neuvillette even scoots to sit up better next to his Mate and extends his leg. To show off how the form-fitting spats accentuate the curve of his calves. How they draw attention to his heeled shoes. Wriothesley’s desire is still very apparent, but he does admire simply to admire too as Neuvillette shows off.
It pleases the Tidefolk immensely. Neuvillette isn’t without his own vanities, after all.
The pile of clothes Wriothesley ordered is still out, and this paired with the way Wriothesley admires him gives Neuvillette an idea. He pulls his leg back in and settles in Wriothesley’s lap, no time for bashfulness as he rides the excitement of this want. Tidefolk proprieties were about more than affections and Courtship, after all. There was time for work and time for play, and adult Tidefolk in the Court were expected to find their fun at galas or gossiping amongst each other.
Neuvillette liked reading at home, which many of the other Nobles thought made him a shut-in. A boring one. Yet they would have deemed him childish if he told them about sneaking out to swim and play with Bijou and the other otters. He sometimes wishes he had Furina’s courage and did as he pleased.
Though he thinks she’d be proud of him now, as he sits in Wriothesley’s lap, eyes bright as he asks, “Can I put on a fashion show for you?”
Wriothesley’s eyebrows migrate north nearly to his hairline. “You want to put on a fashion show for me?” The Frostdweller blinks before his mouth slowly morphs into a grin. “My Mate. It would please me to see you show off the pieces I commissioned for you. Shall we start with the coat?”
Neuvillette is up out of Wriothesley’s lap before he even finishes the sentence. Gathering the fine fur-lined coat Wriothesley had made for Neuvillette’s first winter in the North. Neuvillette pulls it on, wishing he were wearing something more fashionable than just a blouse, waistcoat, and slacks to show off a garment that’s clearly tailored with care.
The coat is indeed cozy, perhaps a tad too much in the warmth of the ship, but Neuvillette already adores it. He spins on the ball of his foot, feeling the coat unfurl below the waist. More than roomy enough for his tail to be accommodated, but also making it feel as if it’s a coat that will easily fit over skirts and petticoats, should Neuvillette feel the desire.
His heart warms at the thought that Wriothesley had specifically requested Piper to make sure the coat would. There are indeed skirts he’s spotted in the pile, too. Neuvillette is eager to get his hands on them, to put them on. When he’s done showing off the coat.
Wriothesley’s smile when Neuvillette turns to him finally makes his heart flutter. The soft look of adoration on the Frostdweller’s face. Those glacial eyes are so gentle. Loving. The Frostdweller’s tail is a blur as it wags. Neuvillette turns his face away, feeling a strange mix of bashfulness and joy.
“It looks perfect on you,” Wriothesley says from his spot on the sofa. His voice is shy as he asks, “Do you like it?”
Neuvillette supposes it makes sense. Wriothesley had commissioned the coat. Commissioned a good deal of the clothes waiting to be tried on and shown off. Of course, he’d be eagerly awaiting Neuvillette’s opinions. On if he likes Wriothesley’s gifts.
“I love it,” Neuvillette says, finally turning to Wriothesley. That soft adoration is still apparent in Wriothesley’s eyes. “Thank you, Wriothesley. It is a beautiful coat. It’s so warm. Forgive me if I must take it off so soon. I fear I will start sweltering in it.”
“You don’t have to ask my forgiveness for that,” Wriothesley points out with a chuckle. “Your warm weather in the Court of Tides sent me into an early shed, don’t forget! I’m still finding loose fluff even after the thorough brushing you gave my tail. I understand uncomfortable warmth very well. I can’t wait for my shed to end. Or to shed these.” He shakes his head, and Neuvillette finds his gaze drawn to the points of Wriothesley’s antlers. Wriothesley once mentioned he’d be shedding when Winter hits. “I can get them made into more gifts for you!”
Neuvillette’s flush has nothing to do with the warmth of the coat as he shrugs it off. “You Frostdwellers truly use everything you have. What can one make from your shed antlers?”
“Many things!” Wriothesley says with a grin as Neuvillette looks over the rest of the clothes to try on. “Handles for tools and knives, or even cabinets. Necklaces and jewellery too. A common Courtship gift between Frostdwellers is something your Intended likes or a tool for their hobbies made from your antler shed. We’re all crafters, after all.”
Wriothesley actually stands and joins Neuvillette in looking through the pile. He clearly has something in mind he’s looking for, so Neuvillette lets the Frostdweller look unhindered by his own shuffling. Wriothesley beams when he finds what he’s looking for. Pulling out a bundle of embroidered cloth that looks like it’s been carefully wrapped around itself.
“This has pieces of my last antler shed,” Wriothesley explains, tail wagging as he holds it out to Neuvillette. “If you want an example of how they can be used for clothing accents. I made the buttons myself, but I had to hand off the rest of it to Piper. My sewing is atrocious. I think Piper even roped in a certain Tidefolk elder for the embroidery.”
Neuvillette takes the folded cloth, tail flicking in excitement as he flicks it so it unfolds and he holds it up to admire his next gift. It’s a fine waistcoat in black, with bold embroidery in ivory thread to match the bleached and rounded antler buttons. An all over pattern of delicate seashells. It must have taken Constance so long, but he could easily see her occupying her own time on the voyage by carefully placing each stitch. Neuvillette smiles as he looks from it to Wriothesley.
“Hold it while I remove this waistcoat so I can try it on?” Neuvillette asks, placing it in Wriothesley’s hands when his Mate reaches for it.
He spends the next moment undoing the buttons on his current waistcoat. Not even thinking of the act being inappropriate or anything of the sort. How Alienor could arrive with more tea at any moment. Any apprehension overridden by excitement as Wriothesley helps Neuvillette slip the waistcoat on and do up the buttons. Neuvillette runs his hands over the garment to smooth it out before he smiles at his Mate.
“How does it look?” He asks even though Neuvillette knows the answer already from the way Wriothesley smiles. The softness in his eyes. He finds himself teasing his Mate before he answers, “Good, I take it?”
“You always look good,” Wriothesley says, tail wagging hard behind him. “Do you want to put on the skirt that matches? You’ll need to go grab your petticoat. I don’t think Piper’s finished the one I commissioned for you to wear in the winter or the ivory one that matches this ensemble.”
Neuvillette latches onto the first thing Wriothesley mentioned. “There’s a skirt that matches?”
Wriothesley immediately starts digging through the pile again to pull out the item he seeks. Tail wagging hard as he hands it to a delighted Neuvillette. It’s a charcoal grey, lighter than the black waistcoat it pairs with, with a band of black with the ivory embroidered shells around the hem in the same pattern to the waistcoat. Neuvillette admires it before he tucks it to his chest.
“I’ll be right back!” He says before he darts away.
He pauses before he even makes it beyond the sofa, turning back to run back to his Mate and quickly pecks Wriothesley on the lips in thanks before Neuvillette goes to his room to change. He doesn’t even bother to fold the clothes he sheds in his excitement as he undresses and redresses after finding his petticoat.
He has to change out of his spats, of course, and wonders if Wriothesley will be disappointed. Neuvillette has other footwear and stockings that are as flattering, though, and while they may not match perfectly, they will do. Neuvillette puts them on after he slips into his petticoat and new skirt. Taking a moment to spin and enjoy how the skirt unfurls, smiling so wide his face hurts.
When he reenters the sitting room, it seems Wriothesley has tidied the folded clothing piles and there are fresh cups of tea waiting. Alienor must have come and gone while Neuvillette was changing. Wriothesley himself is absent from the sitting room, confusing Neuvillette until his bedroom door swings open, and the Frostdweller rejoins him, violin case in hand. He smiles sheepishly at Neuvillette as he sets his violin case down on the sofa and opens it.
“I know how you love to spin in your pretty skirts,” Wriothesley replies when Neuvillette sends him a curious look. “I thought I would play you music if you wanted to dance. Then we can continue the fashion show.”
Neuvillette’s heart flutters ,and he nods. Touched Wriothesley remembers. He waits until Wriothesley pulls out the violin and lifts the bow to the strings. Recognizing the notes of the Courtship song Wriothesley wrote for him as his Mate begins to play. Neuvillette’s hand finds his skirts as he sways to the music for a moment. Eyes on Wriothesley’s. Wriothesley’s on his.
They begin to dance together, as Wriothesley plays for them.
“For You Are all the World” , that’s the title they decided on together when Furina asked. When they’re together like this, it truly feels as if the world has faded away. Taking its hardships and sorrows with it, leaving only room for their joy and this growing affection between them.
How Neuvillette wishes they had more moments like this together back in the Court of Tides or at his estate. Gentle comforts. Shared tenderness. Mourns once again that their Courtship wasn’t like this from the start. Still, Neuvillette is cautiously optimistic about their future together, even in a land as harsh as the North. Knows that as long as Wriothesley is at his side, there’s nothing he can’t face.
Knows, that once they reach the North, once they establish themselves and get their Fortress built, everything will be alright. Neuvillette is under no illusion that it will be easy. Nothing is ever so easy. But it’s a future he wants, more than anything.
A Home. A place to carve out for himself, at Wriothesley’s side. Where they will rule together and ensure their people never face the hardships they had at the claws of the Tyrant Drake Warden. Neuvillette will learn who he is and what his role means to him as Mate of Drake Warden Wriothesley.
Neuvillette will have much to learn, much to prove, but for now, it is him and Wriothesley, alone together in their cozy little world. Finding comfort in each other. With each other.
Haunted as it may be by those who harmed them.
Wriothesley plays until his fingers tire, but even then, they do not stop their dancing. Neuvillette smiles wide as Wriothesley whisks him into a waltz about their suite. His skirt unfurls as Wriothesley spins him round and round. They dance like that until one of them trips over something or other, causing them both to fall into a heap on the floor. Giggling as they slowly realize what happened.
Neuvillette is pulled closer by his Mate. Wriothesley’s purr strong and deep under his ear as his Frostdweller hugs him tightly. Neuvillette mimics the sound best he can, deepening his churr to match Wriothesley’s soothing cadence. Harmonizing with his Mate. Their tails seek each other and twine together.
Neuvillette soon lifts his head, a flush on his cheeks. Wriothesley’s eyes have gone soft again, glacial hues warm. Neuvillette cannot help but kiss him. Emboldened by the joy they find together. Wriothesley’s tail wags so hard it takes Neuvillette’s with it, and they both have to pull away to laugh.
That night, after an afternoon of an impromptu fashion show and all of Neuvillette’s new clothes have been packed away, he hesitates as he looks at his shift in his hands. He’s worn it a few nights now, which helps him make his decision. Neuvillette, dressed down in his underthings, leaves his room to pad quietly to Wriothesley’s. He knocks.
Wriothesley answers, also dressed down for the night. Neuvillette offers him his shift.
“In case my scent on the blanket isn’t strong enough,” The Tidefolk explains, watching as Wriothesley takes the soft, silky bundle from him.
He’s not surprised when the Frostdweller immediately sniffs it. Can’t help but sigh fondly as Wriothesley’s tail starts wagging. Wriothesley clings to Neuvillette’s shift like it’s a gift. He’s a Frostdweller, though, and Neuvillette is slowly beginning to wrap his head around the importance they give scents. Hence, bringing it to Wriothesley to begin with.
“I’ll make sure it gets washed later,” Wriothesley says after a moment. His cheeks colour as he seems to realize how that may sound. “Not that I’m going to do anything or use your things for anything untoward!”
Neuvillette flushes. Doesn’t really mean to entertain what Wriothesley doing untoward things with his shift would mean. Unable to stop the mental images he has as they come. Wriothesley alone in bed, nose buried in Neuvillette’s shift, hand around his–
Wriothesley coughs awkwardly. Right. He can smell Neuvillette’s interest.
“Good night, Wriothesley,” Neuvillette squeaks in embarrassment, turning on his heel.
Neuvillette doesn’t know what possesses him to turn back towards his Mate, still lingering in the frame of his bedroom doorway. He moves quickly back to Wriothesley, pausing before he leans in to quickly give him a peck on his lips once more.
“Thank you for today,” Neuvillette says, backing up to head to his bedroom. “Thank you for the gifts, and the dance. Everything. You’re just… you’re so wonderful, you know that?”
Wriothesley’s eyes widen, then soften, his tail slowly wagging behind him. “Yeah?”
Neuvillette just nods, stepping back again. Feeling bold for a moment once more, he adds in a suggestive tone, “Wriothesley… You can use my shift however you please. I don’t mind. After all, Frostdwellers love their Mate’s scents, yes?”
Wriothesley blinks at the Tidefolk, stunned into silence, his cheeks slowly colouring pink as the insinuation sinks in. Embarrassed once more, Neuvillette runs back to his room after calling “Good night”, shutting the door behind him. Practically diving and hiding under the covers as he hugs his own tail to himself. Neuvillette wonders what possessed him to say such salacious things to his own Mate! Neuvillette tries and fails not to imagine his Mate doing any of the salacious things he conjures in his mind.
Neuvillette spends the night sleepless in manners he is most unused to.
Chapter 5: Pleasure, Vulnerabilities, and Pampering
Chapter by Kalikuks
Summary:
Good evening! It's Thursday!!!
Please enjoy this chapter! We're back with another Wriothesley POVThis chapter contains masturbation and scent kink
And for my Wriolette/Neuvithesley minded friends: The sexy bits this chapter lean more NeuWriolette than anything.
Chapter Text
Wriothesley had full intentions to be good.
Then Neuvillette had gone and said Wriothesley could use his shift however he wanted that night. With full insinuation that said permission included salacious things. It was out of the ordinary for this shy Mate to say such things, but Neuvillette is not in the business of saying things he does not mean. If he gave Wriothesley permission, then he has permission.
Wriothesley hadn’t intended to act on said permission. Spent the first two nights cuddling the shift close, having wrapped it around the pillow that would be Neuvillette’s should he have been sharing the bed. It seemed best to wait, to take part in such salacious things with his Mate, whenever Neuvillette next approached Wriothesley for intimacy of a more sexual nature.
Wriothesley, however, is still a newly Mated Dragon with needs. So despite his best efforts to wait, to make himself available for Neuvillette should he want him, need him, Wriothesley finds himself seeking self-pleasure.
He’d much rather have Neuvillette himself of course, but his lovely Tidefolk Mate had finally found it in him to leave their suite of rooms on the ship and visit with the other Tidefolk aboard. Something about Constance re-teaching him how to weave lace. Wriothesley is more than supportive of it, of course. Over the moon for Neuvillette to revisit past skills and visit the elder Tidefolk he’s grown close with.
He just wishes it hadn’t been today. When Wriothesley finds himself feeling particularly hot-blooded and amorous. He’d love nothing more than to take Neuvillette to bed and spend hours finding pleasure in each other. He’s certain he could have convinced Neuvillette to indulge in such decadent laziness. Well. Perhaps such activity could hardly be considered lazy.
Still, it would have been preferable to what Wriothesley finds himself doing now, in his bed, regrettably alone, with Neuvillette’s shift pressed to his nose.
His cock leaks in his hand as Wriothesley fucks up into his fist. Slick with want already, the slide of his own touch easy. Wriothesley inhales Neuvillette’s soft scent of coastal rain that clings to the Tidefolk’s silk shift and snarls with need. Imagining his sweet Mate above him as his hips buck up, pretending the squeeze of his fingers is the clench of that tight, hot vent.
Wriothesley’s hand is a poor substitute, of course, but still he chases the feeling. Flexing his hips up as he fucks his own fist. Thinking of his beautiful Mate. The ways they could find pleasure together, once Neuvillette finds confidence in himself and his sensuality. How beautiful Neuvillette is, especially when he gives himself over to pleasure.
Wriothesley chuffs, chest rising and falling as he pants. He nuzzles into Neuvillette’s silk shift with a rumbling purr. Imagines the way this same silk fabric would tickle his face as Wriothesley noses up Neuvillette’s slender legs to coax them open for him. Craves the taste of Neuvillette’s arousal, pouring from the source. Wriothesley growls as he sinks his teeth into Neuvillette’s shift to keep it in place so his other hand is free to dip his fingers beneath his cock. Flexing them to get rid of his claws as he shoves two fingers inside. Pretending his own wet heat is Neuvillette’s. Pretending it’s Neuvillette’s slender fingers delving into his depths. Coaxing pleasure from him.
Wriothesley huffs and whines, glad holding Neuvillette’s shift in his mouth is muffling his noises as his hands speed up. He’s also very glad the bed is bolted down so as to not be tossed around when they cross the rough North Sea. Wriothesley would undoubtedly have it shaking and banging against the wall with the force of his thrusts up into his hand and down against his fingers as he loses himself to the tide of pleasure.
Wriothesley mumbles Neuvillette’s name into the cloth as his eyes drift closed. Imagining Neuvillette’s cute, curious look of concentration as he’d stroke Wriothesley’s cock. Those lilac eyes lifting to Wriothesley’s face, searching for approval, for confirmation, his actions make his Mate feel good. He’s just so sweet like that.
Wriothesley shivers down to the tip of his tail as he imagines Neuvillette growing bolder, more curious, and those soft lips parting so his tongue can flick out to taste the precome dripping from Wriothesley’s tip. Would he love or loathe the taste? Wriothesley groans, thinking of the latter, of Neuvillette becoming hungry for him. Sucking greedily on his cock.
Would Neuvillette follow the ruddy length of Wriothesley’s cock down as he explored? Would he trail kisses down Wriothesley’s shaft and lap up the slick seeping from Wriothesley’s vent where the root of his cock sits? Wriothesley whimpers with want, his fingers plunging inside himself again, pressing up against the underside of his cock. The Frostdweller shudders, drooling into Neuvillette’s silk shift as he barrels towards his end. Hand and fingers working faster.
His pleasure-hungry mind conjures the image of Neuvillette’s face as Wriothesley coaxes him to take. The Frostdweller catching the Tidefolk’s wriggly cock in hand and offering up his vent for it to slip inside. Neuvillette’s face so so pink in his shyness, but unable to deny Wriothesley anything, much like how Wriothesley cannot deny him.
How would it feel? For Neuvillette to finally slip inside? Would that writhing, searching tendril of a cock finally still when it was seated where it wanted to be? Or would it try to burrow deeper inside? It looks so long, Wriothesley has no doubt it would reach deep. And Tidefolk, or at least Neuvillette, comes so much. Would the Tidefolk become overwhelmed in his inexperience and come after a few clumsy thrusts?
Wriothesley’s tail thrashes and thumps against the bed as he inhales Neuvillette’s scent still lingering on the shift. The wet squelches of his fingers and the slick sound of his hand on his cock are loud in his bedroom. Wriothesley’s whole body jolts as his fist bumps into his knot, growing at the base of his cock. He’s so close. Wriothesley doubles his efforts. Throws himself into his fantasy.
Where did he leave off? Right. His poor, shy Neuvillette, apologetic because he couldn’t last inside Wriothesley. He won’t find it in him to care though, with his lovely Tidefolk Mate before him and more pleasure to discover together. Wriothesley imagines coaxing Neuvillette below him, spreading the Tidefolk’s slender legs to feast on his vent. Drive him to an orgasm while his spend drips down Wriothesley’s thighs.
Sucking that wriggling tendril of a cock into his mouth as Neuvillette is overwhelmed with one orgasm. Driving Neuvillette relentlessly to his next. Making his Tidefolk sing for him. Slipping his cock into Neuvillette’s hot, welcoming vent. Feeling Neuvillette’s arousal, how he absolutely drips slick as Wriothelsey fucks him hard.
Oh, how both of them would make an absolute mess of their bed. Neuvillette’s spend dripping from Wriothesley’s vent as he takes Neuvillette. The scent of sex in the air, inescapable. Wriothesley would get drunk on it. He always does. He’s drunk on the scent remaining in Neuvillette’s shift even now.
Wriothesley puts his hand around his knot and squeezes, making himself jolt. Thinking of how Neuvillette would keen if this knot had been used to lock them together. Remembering how Neuvillette seems to both shy from yet chase the sensation. Wriothesley moans as he comes. Trying to squeeze his knot with his hand to simulate the way his Tidefolk’s vent seems to ripple around it whenever he knots him.
Wriothesley finally pulls Neuvillette’s shift from his mouth, uncaring if he sullies it with the slick from his own vent. Gasping as he paints his own torso, his heaving chest, with his issue. Swearing colourfully as he prolongs his orgasm and strokes his cock with the hand he has soaked with his own slick.
“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley cries out and pleads, body twitching. Tail thrashing. “Fuck, Neuvillette!”
Suddenly, the door of his bedroom flies open, and Wriothesley lifts his head to peer at the intruder, a snarl of warning dying on his tongue when his brain registers who it is. Neuvillette, in his fading urgency and ramping embarrassment, had clearly come expecting a different scene when he had burst into the room. Wriothesley’s cries must have been misinterpreted by his Mate as something more dire.
Both of them remain where they are for a moment. Wriothesley panting on the bed, hand still around his knot. His cock twitching in his grasp. Neuvillette frozen, mouth opening and closing. Clearly, he’s unsure of what to say. To do.
Wriothesley wipes his hand on the bed to try to clean it before he holds it out toward his Mate. Beckoning, but letting his Mate choose. Always letting Neuvillette choose.
Neuvillette hesitates, but then slowly he moves. Closes the door behind him. Wriothesley watches him approach, sees the twitch of his tail that is, as Wriothesley has come to understand, tell of the Tidefolk’s uncertainty whenever he enters a situation he doesn’t truly know how to handle. Neuvillette even keeps his eyes politely on Wriothesley, on his outstretched hand, but never strays downward to take in how the Frostdweller has painted himself in pleasure.
Neuvillette rounds his side of the bed and takes Wriothesley’s hand. When Wriothesley gently tugs him, Neuvillette comes where he’s led. The Tidefolk settles, sitting on his hip, his legs and tail elegant against the bedspread. Wriothesley cannot help but admire the slope of his Mate’s body. The shimmer of his iridescent scales.
“Enjoying yourself?” Neuvillette asks, his flush making the pale scales on his cheeks more apparent. His eyes do not stray from Wriothesley’s.
Wriothesley only offers back a crooked smile. “It would have been much better if my Mate had been here. But ah, here you are. Can I tempt you into a romp in the sheets, Mate of Mine?”
He is teasing, yet Neuvillette, bless him, takes it seriously. Hesitates before he sits up on his knees and lifts his hands to his waistcoat to begin to unbutton it. Wriothesley’s brain is slow to catch up, but his tail has no such qualms. It thuds against the bed in its excited wag.
“Insatiable creature,” Neuvillette chastises in a murmur as he slips his arms out of his waistcoat. Even as his face is deep pink.
Clearly, the twitch in Wriothesley’s cock has not gone unnoticed. He wonders what he must do for Neuvillette to chastise him again. Wriothesley makes a note to test such things later to see where it may lead. Right now his beautiful mate is undressing for him. Revealing inches of soft, pale skin. Wriothesley drinks in the sight, the flashes of iridescent scales where they sit in patches on his Mate’s body.
He itches to move, to help, so he does. Sitting up to undo the buttons of Neuvillette’s blouse himself. So Wriothesley can get his arms around his Mate and tug the ties of Neuvillette’s trousers loose where the bow sits above his tail. Wriothesley’s already purring, already eager for his Mate.
“I may as well let you have these too,” Neuvillette murmurs as Wriothesley helps him finish removing his clothes then rolls above the Tidefolk. “Has the shift helped? The night terrors, I mean, not your pleasure, because that is evident enough.”
Wriothesley pauses, tail flicking. He’s not had a night terror since the storm. Certainly nightmares. He’s still sleepless and restless in the night, as he has always been. Neuvillette’s gifts of the weighted blanket and the shift have indeed helped. Wriothesley has snuggled both items close at night, has thoroughly enjoyed the lingering scent of his Mate.
For more than pleasure.
Still, he’s hesitant to call it progress. Certainly steps in the right direction. Time will tell. Wriothesley wishes time would tell him faster. He wants his Mate safe in his arms.
Under him, Neuvillette tilts his head in concern at Wriothesley’s silence. His soft touch, his palm cradling Wriothesley’s cheek, brings the Frostdweller back to the moment. He nuzzles into Neuvillette’s hand with a sigh. His shoulders slump. Mood evaporating. Wriothesley rolls off of Neuvillette onto his back with a huff.
Neuvillette settles up onto his side next to Wriothesley, a hand coming up to pet idle patterns over Wriothesley’s chest. “I apologize, I should not have said anything.”
Shaking his head always feels weird while he’s lying down sporting a full-grown rack of antlers, so Wriothesley closes his eyes and merely responds, “No. You can say whatever you please. I love the idea of more gifts holding your scent. Just not what such gifts are currently associated with.”
Neuvillette makes a noise of soft understanding and says nothing more. Wriothesley enjoys the warmth of his Mate close. The tickle of his claws on his skin as Neuvillette draws patterns. Finds it cute that he avoids the mess Wriothesley made of himself. Said mess makes his nose crinkle after a while. It’s getting crusty and it will be hell to get out of his body hair. He knows what must be done to clean it and hates it. Already dreading the weight of water in his tail.
Yet last time, Neuvillette had aided him without judgment. Wriothesley just hates feeling like a helpless hatchling who cannot even bathe himself without it causing him panic. Fuck that creature tenfold, and may his name be forgotten to the ice and stone.
“My Mate,” Wriothesley murmurs finally after a moment of mental anguish. “My Love. I need a bath. Let's go bathe.”
He lets the implication sit and knows when Neuvillette understands. The Tidefolk perks up out of the corner of his eye, those Amethyst eyes bright and eager. Though his joy dampens just a little, knowing what’s to come to help Wriothesley. It makes the Frostdweller’s heart ache. He wishes it were far simpler. That Wriothesley could enjoy a nice hot bath. To tend to Neuvillette and be tended to in turn sounds so wonderful. So beautifully intimate.
Right now, all he can manage is sitting in the tub and trembling. Wriothesley hates it. The water hadn’t even touched him much last time, aside from the gentle false rain Neuvillette had created. Wriothesley closes his eyes tightly and chuffs sternly at himself.
“It will be alright,” Neuvillette’s voice is soft as the Tidefolk leans in close and kisses Wriothesley’s cheek. “Come along, Wriothesley.”
He lets himself be tugged up out of bed. Following Neuvillette into the bathroom mechanically. The trembling starts, as always, with the opening of the taps. The rush of the water filling the tub sounds far too close to the roar of it into his ears as that creature sent it flying at Wriothesley in torrents with the intention to kill.
Poor Gunther is still taking it easy after being flung around by the bastard. Wriothesley is half at fault for the other Frostdweller’s concussion. He’s the one who’d barely managed to catch Gunther with a wall of ice. Better concussed than at the bottom of the sea, he supposes.
Wriothesley shudders and swallows hard.
Neuvillette doesn’t let the tub fill more than a foot, though Wriothesley knows his Tidefolk would happily indulge in a nice deep bath. He cannot help but feel bad that his Mate cannot even indulge in joys intrinsic to his nature as they bathe together. Wriothesley makes himself meet Neuvillette’s eyes when the Tidefolk gently takes his hand.
“Ready?” Neuvillette asks softly.
“No,” Wriothesley answers honestly, “But I need to be clean. Can you do what you did last time and keep the water to your side? Please?”
There is no judgment in Neuvillette’s eyes, which is nearly enough to move Wriothesley to tears again. His Mate only nods and murmurs a gentle, “Alright. I can do that for you.”
Not merely an I can do that, but an I can do that for you.
Wriothesley’s shivering tail gives the smallest of wags. Even as the trembling worsens as Neuvillette coaxes him into the tub. He can tell when Neuvillette seizes the water, when it’s under his influence and control. It seems to vibrate in place. Any other time, Wriothesley is sure he’d be fascinated. Right now it’s just another reminder of that night. Wriothesley forces himself to keep his breathing even.
“I’ll be quick but thorough as I clean you, ” Neuvillette reassures, hand lifting to rub a thumb soothingly over Wriothesley’s jaw. “You’ll be in and out before you know it. Like last time.”
“I trust you,” Wriothesley finds himself replying in answer. He closes his eyes and lets Neuvillette lead him to sit carefully. “I trust you.”
It’s true, though. Wriothesley trusts Neuvillette. Trusts that he will not make this any more difficult for Wriothesley. Trusts the Tidefolk to tend to him with care while he is vulnerable. Wriothesley only wishes his subconscious could offer his beautiful, caring Mate this trust too. That he could wake after a night terror and find comfort in his Mate, instead of thinking him an immediate threat.
After all he’s been through, doesn’t he deserve that? Being able to rest peacefully with this beautiful Dragon at his side?
He takes a shaky breath, which Neuvillette takes note of. The Tidefolk lifts a hand to stroke his cheek softly. Wriothesley nuzzles into the touch greedily. Letting it distract him from the way Neuvillette already gathers water to pour over Wriothesley’s head as gentle rain. He shivers as it comes down, even though the water is warm.
“I’m right here,” Neuvillette whispers, voice gentle.
“I know,” Wriothesley replies, managing to open his eyes finally. “I know.”
Neuvillette offers him such gentle smiles. Wriothesley finds himself leaning forward to press his forehead to his Mate’s. Neuvillette moves to press a kiss to Wriothesley’s, claws gently pulling his hair from his eyes. Wriothesley manages a shaky purr as Neuvillette starts to clean him. Leans in closer to nuzzle his Mate’s temple as Neuvillette takes care of him.
More than anything, Wriothesley wants to return that favour. Not like this, though, in only a foot of water. That cannot be enjoyable for his Tidefolk Mate. Wriothesley cannot pamper such a Dragon like this, let alone Neuvillette.
“After I’m clean and dry,” Wriothesley murmurs, “You should empty the tub and refill it how you prefer. When we get to the North Seas, having baths will be difficult, so you should indulge while you can.” Wriothesley noses Neuvillette’s cheek before he kisses it. “I would like to tend to you as you’ve done for me. I want to pamper you, if I can.”
“Are you sure?” Neuvillette replies after a moment of consideration. “My hair takes a long time to tend, Wriothesley. Surely you have better things to occupy your time with.”
“No,” Wriothesley replies as he scents his Mate. “I’ll always make time to tend to you. Make time for you. You are my Mate. I love you.”
The Tidefolk still pauses sometimes, like those three words catch him off guard. Perhaps they do. Tidefolk, the Nobles like Neuvillette, do not Mate for love. Frostdwellers on the other hand, know even their long lives can be taken from them in a moment. Brutal is their North. Brutal was their Tyrant Drake Warden. So Frostdwellers love quickly. Fiercely. As if every day is their last.
So, of course, Neuvillette hadn’t come into this Mating expecting love. Wriothesley, in truth hadn’t either, but given his nature, understood falling in love with a Dragon who may not love him was inevitable. And even then, Neuvillette offers the gift of his honesty. His admissions of falling in love. Wriothesley can tell the Tidefolk struggles with the thought of love just as he struggles with the thought of intimacy.
Yet Neuvillette works steadily towards being able to offer Wriothesley both. He just needs time. Wriothesley has nothing but time to offer him.
“Thank you,” Neuvillette whispers after a long moment of contemplative silence. “For loving me.”
“It is no hard feat,” Wriothesley responds easily with the simple truth. Repeating words from a stolen moment between them from what seems ages ago now, “You are so easy to love, Neuvillette.”
They fall into a companionable silence after that. Wriothesley focuses on Neuvillette’s touch, his care as he scrubs Wriothesley clean. The gentle scratch of his claws through Wriothesley’s hair as he shampoos it. The Frostdweller’s stuttering purr grows a little steadier.
“I want to try shampooing your tail,” Neuvillette murmurs. “Piper caught me in the hall today and told me it’s best to shampoo your fur after a shed, to loosen the remaining hairs.”
Wriothesley’s purr stutters again. He wants that. Wants Neuvillette to learn how to tend him, so his Mate can aid him with future shedding. But it means water in his fur. Seeping into the soft, fluffy undercoat. Making his tail a waterlogged weight.
“I can’t begin to describe how much I want that,” Wriothesley begins, swallowing hard. “But I’m afraid of it sending me into a panic. I’m afraid of my fight or flight instincts kicking in, and what happens to you if they pick fight.”
Neuvillette listens and seems to quietly contemplate for a time. He takes Wriothesley’s hands in his. Stares at their fingers interlocked for some time.
“I’ve done my best to avoid wetting your tail more than I need to, and I can try my best not to oversaturate your tail with water,” Neuvillette murmurs thoughtfully. “When I’m done, I can pull the water from your tail as well. Even if I use just a little. It may even help associate your tail getting wet with better things.”
The idea has merit, Wriothesley just hates it. Hates feeling like he must tiptoe around himself in order to keep Neuvillette safe. To keep himself from feeling weak and vulnerable. His Frostdweller pride especially hates it.
But he also, more than anything, trusts his Mate.
“We can try,” Wriothesley finally concedes. “But if I panic–”
“I will not abandon you as you have never abandoned me,” Neuvillette says with a surprising sternness. “We will deal with that issue should it arise. Alright?”
“...Alright,” Wriothesley ducks his head. Swallows hard. Since Neuvillette left no room to argue further, he adds, “It’d be easier if I turned around for you.”
Wriothesley does as he says, and turns around to offer Neuvillette the full length of his tail. Wriothesley brings his knees up to his chest and hugs them. Shuddering when Neuvillette wets his tail. Not enough to weigh him down of course, but enough to use to work the shampoo into a lather. Wriothesley slowly relaxes, not realizing how much he’d tensed up.
His eyes drift closed. Wriothesley forces himself to focus on the nice things about this. The way Neuvillette’s fingers dig deep down past the guardhairs into the downy undercoat of his tail. Places still itching with loose fur soothed as Neuvillette works the shampoo into those areas. Wriothesley’s purr stutters to life again.
He’s surprised when he realizes he’s nearly dozing.
“I’m going to rinse your tail now,” Neuvillette warns. “I’ll go slow, and maybe pull the water out between each rinse.”
“Do whatever you want,” Wriothesley mumbles in response.
It takes a while using the method Neuvillette described. So long even Wriothesley knows the water Neuvillette is keeping on his side of the tub has gone cold. The few Tidefolk Wriothesley has spoken with all insist they are made for the lightless depths as they refer to it, which is apparently quite cold. He still wonders how such a place holds up to the Northern Seas. Regardless, baths are not meant to be cold. It cannot be nice to sit in cold water.
“Your turn?” Wriothesley says when his tail is dry. If Neuvillette notices the speed in which he exits the tub, the Tidefolk doesn’t say anything. “I promised my Mate a pampering.”
“You did,” Neuvillette replies, emptying the tub of the cooled water to replace it with hot water once more. “You don’t have to. Supper will be delivered soon. I’m sure Alienor would at least like to speak to one of us when she delivers it.”
“I don’t have to, but I want to,” Wriothesley reminds as he settles next to the tub on the floor. His tail sways behind him. Feeling so much better than it has in years. “Teach me to tend to your hair. Your scales.”
Wriothesley reaches down and pets along the smooth scales of his Mate’s tail. Iridescent white. Shimmering in blues when the light hits them the right way. Apparently a good omen among Tidefolk to be born with white scales. Wriothesley knows Roquefort looked into the myth around it, and it’s something to do with prosperity and plenty in the deep waters of their home. That a Tidefolk of such shimmering, white scales cannot, yet does not need to camouflage itself in the colourful reefs to hunt too hard for its prey.
Wriothesley can’t help but think it makes Neuvillette perfect to hunt in the Northern waters. His Mate will probably appear as a Dragon-shaped iceberg to the denizens of the depths in the North. It has Wriothesley wondering if Neuvillette ever would hunt in the waters. He may not be a hunter, but it doesn’t stop Wriothesley from imagining what sort of things a Tidefolk would bring to the table.
The whole point of gaining a Tidefolk Mate, and the help of their Court was to create the ideal waters to encourage more fish to spawn and therefore more fishing. Perhaps setting one loose into the waters as a top predator would be detrimental to that goal. Those are concerns for the future. They haven’t even reached the North yet.
And there are more pressing matters right now. Like tending to his Mate’s hair. It turns into quite the endeavour, but Wriothesley happily throws himself into it. Shampooing every inch of Neuvillette’s silty white hair. Wriothesley manages to lose himself in the task, even with the proximity to a very full tub.
The proximity to a very content, purring Tidefolk makes it worth it, though.
Neuvillette even teaches Wriothesley how to buff his scales after Wriothesley has dried and braided the Tidefolk’s hair. The Frostdweller eagerly takes in the method to make the already gorgeous shimmer of them more apparent. Wriothesley is wiping the excess ointment from Neuvillette’s tail with a towel when the fabric catches and the Tidefolk hisses in pain. Alarmed, Wriothesley lifts his hands.
“Sorry! I–” Wriothesley watches as Neuvillette flicks his tail, examines it with a scowl, and plucks a scale that had risen up clean off. “Wait. They can just… come out?”
“Yes. They shed as new ones grow to replace them.” Neuvillette huffs. The scale shimmers where it’s pinched between his thumb and finger. Wriothesley can’t stop staring at it. Neuvillette notices. “I would normally get rid of it, or trade it to a human merchant for interesting trinkets if one visited the Court. Humans like to have Dragon scales for some reason. However, considering I am now Mated…”
Wriothesley already holds out his hand for it, understanding what Neuvillette means to do. Tail wagging as Neuvillette places it into his palm. Already ideas form on what to do with the beautiful, shimmering scale. A new earring. Inlay for another music box. Wriothesley purrs and catches Neuvillette’s soft smile out of the corner of his eye.
“I get nearly everything made with your shed from your fur, and you said you intended for me to get more gifts made of your antler too!” Neuvillette says with a chuckle and a fondly exasperated shake of his head. “Only fair that you get gifted my scales, yes?”
“I’ll cherish it. Them. Every scale you give me.” Wriothesley responds.
His tail wags harder as Neuvillette leans over to kiss his cheek.
“Perhaps… You could help me make it into a charm,” Neuvillette murmurs, petting over the scale in Wriothesley’s palm. “Make it into an earring for you, or a pendant, and I will bless it with Tidefolk magic so it protects you. From the water, at least.”
“Your healing is Tidefolk magic,” Wriothesley replies thoughtfully. The scars at his throat itch. The wound could have easily killed him, but Neuvillette’s aptitude for healing magic, beyond his elemental prowess, even untrained, is incredible. Wriothesley can’t help but tease, “If you can create a protection charm as potent as your healing, you're set to make me a fearsome and unstoppable Drake Warden indeed!”
“You don’t need my help for that,” Neuvillette says with a huff. “You’ve fought two Tidefolk Dragons twice your age and lived.”
“Gaultier was still your kill,” Wriothesley replies, even if the name tastes like tar in his mouth. “You killed a Tidefolk twice your age. I wouldn’t call the one with Essorer much of a fight. You and I both know it was an execution. A much-deserved one. May their names be lost to the ice and stone.”
Neuvillette lowers his eyes. Wriothesley worries he’s offended him with his comment about that creature, but the Tidefolk’s gaze seems more thoughtful than anything else.
“You’re correct,” Neuvillette replies. “Both of us have killed Dragons twice our age. I cannot fathom how old the Tyrant Drake Warden was when you faced him.”
“Old,” Wriothesley replies after he thinks for a long moment, nose crinkling. “Old like, or close to, Roquefort’s age. From what I know.”
The conversation peters off there as they both sit with their thoughts. Wriothesley honestly hadn’t thought of any of these battles as impressive feats. Survival was survival. Especially in the North. The Tyrant Drake Warden had to be taken down if the Frostdwellers ever wanted to be free.
Neuvillette coming to his aid and killing Gaultier was unexpected of the Tidefolk, who abhor violence. It had only made Wriothesley fall harder in love with his intended Mate at the time. Yet as he sits here now, considering the ages of all the Dragons they’ve faced, he’s surprised it never crossed Wriothesley’s mind. But now…
It’s no secret that the older the Dragon, the more powerful. The more control they have over their element as sentient, inherently magical beings. Wriothesley had taken down the Tyrant Drake Warden, who was maybe thrice his age. Neuvillette is not only an exceptional healer, even untrained, but met Gaultier’s elemental prowess equally when that creature was not only centuries older but had also once seen war.
Wriothesley ponders if that’s the reason so many were opposed to their Mating even with the threat of war hanging over both Courts. They’re both clearly strong Dragons, even as young as they are, only a handful of centuries each into adulthood. They’re even stronger together.
Some legends even say the longer a pair of Dragons is Mated, the stronger they become.
Wriothesley looks to Neuvillette at his side. This beautiful and incredible Dragon. His Mate. Power doesn’t really interest the Frostdweller. Wriothesley doesn’t need it. Doesn’t want it. Hell, he’s only Drake Warden because the Tyrant could only be goaded into a Battle of Wardenship, and Wriothesley came out the victor. Wriothesley’s seen what power has wrought. So has Neuvillette. He has the feeling Neuvillette has no need for power either.
No. All Wriothesley wants, needs, is Neuvillette. To be able to rest peacefully at his side.
Doesn’t mean he’ll shirk his responsibilities as Drake Warden, of course. He wants his people to have the same, is all. To rest peacefully at the sides of their Mates, to know where their next meal comes from. To never face hardships in the North again.
Neuvillette… he just makes all of those dreams all the more possible. Wriothesley’s just lucky enough of a Dragon to be the one who gets to call Neuvillette his.
“You seem in better spirits,” Neuvillette comments gently after a moment.
“You’re here, of course I am,” Wriothesley responds. He enjoys the soft flush that crosses Neuvillette’s cheeks. He strokes a heated cheek with his knuckles gently. “My Mate.”
“Yes,” Neuvillette agrees, leaning into Wriothesley’s touch. It’s his turn to tease. “Though your Mate has heard Alienor come and go, and thinks it’s time we went to eat before our supper cools. Your Mate is rather hungry and thinks you must be too.”
Wriothesley laughs softly and rocks up to his feet. He lifts Neuvillette to his. Steals a kiss because he can’t help it. Gently, he steers Neuvillette to go dress. Eager to eat and then spend the rest of his evening enjoying more of Neuvillette’s company.
Perhaps enjoying Neuvillette as well. The thought has Wriothesley’s tail wagging.
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