Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was a lot Neuvillette did not know about himself. He had trouble understanding his own emotions, for one, some of them buried so deep under the waters of his conscious that he wasn’t even sure they were his. Through his presiding over Fontaine’s court trials, he was learning to name them, slowly. He could supplement this education by reading novels and attending the opera on non-trial days, but fictional characters announcing what they felt on the stage was more of a primer on the names of the things one could feel than a mirror of emotion to hold up to his own heart.

And then there were questions Neuvillette had that could not be answered from the Chief Justice’s seat, from the things that played out onstage, or even from Neuvillette’s vast collection of books. Those things were all, he suspected, written by humans, and the few books he had not written by humans were written with a human audience in mind. Matters of Neuvillette’s own nature were not a common topic of discussion. He knew the elements-- well, one element-- responded to him. Understanding his feelings was necessary when he did not know if one day a true rage would wipe away a city. He knew that sometimes, the rain was him crying. There had also been times he was confused and mist had rolled in over the Court’s capitol city, or, indeed, when his anger had turned the waters of the inland sea rough.

The matters of his own body were another mystery altogether. It was still in the previous Hydro Archon, Egeria’s, time when Neuvillette’s body had gone through changes like what any growing creature did-- his childhood fins had absorbed back into his skin, his gills becoming less external. He had grown taller, and began having urges that did not make sense to him. To burrow into the sand in shallow water when he was aroused. To swim upstream, when he was restless. When he asked Egeria if she knew what was happening to him, she had told him it was probably ‘just puberty,’ that some of his symptoms were not unlike the metamorphoses of salamanders or fish. She had control of Hydro now, even if her relationship to it was different. She understood the way creatures that lived in the water worked. But a dragon was outside of her purview, so she had no strong advice.

Still, as the Archon of Justice, she was not also without mercy. Only a year after Neuvillette started experiencing these changes, she had placed a large package into his hands.

“Read this in private, and perhaps destroy it afterwards if the information seems like a security risk,” she instructed, and so Neuvillette did just that-- put the package into an air bubble to protect it, and swam through the underwater passage that led to the air pocket cave under the city that he liked to retreat to. When he removed the paper, he found that the package was a book, larger both in page size and thickness than any law codex Neuvillette had memorized. He opened it to the first page.

To Neuvillette, the Sovereign Dragon of Hydro

Neuvillette slammed the book shut. Egeria revealed him to someone? The shock of betrayal ran through him in an undercurrent. But… he needed answers, so, gingerly, he reopened the book.

I, Morax, Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon, am the Sovereign Dragon of Stone.

… Oh. Of course. Egeria would never betray him. The two of them needed each other, to balance out the weight of Remuria’s sins and protect the people of Fontaine. Surely Morax could be trusted.

It is, of course, well known that I am a dragon, but the topic of my being one of the Sovereigns reborn is a closely guarded secret. To summarize, without distracting from the true aim of this text, we will say that the original Geo Dragon was at death’s door before Celestia’s feet, and formed a contract with his last breaths. In exchange for the Sovereigns to still exist, which was necessary for dragonkind, as even a philosophical concept, to survive, he promised to be reborn in a form which could uphold the Heavenly Principles at any cost. Some centuries later, I hatched from Tevyat’s crust, from deep in the Chasm where the scales of the planet met and the lifeblood of molten earth bled out.

I wish I could explain these things in person. It is difficult for me to leave Liyue for any matter, especially for long enough to teach you properly, so I have prepared this primer for your illumination. It covers the matters of draconic biology and sexuality that are known to be held in common between elemental dragons. There will be differences specific to you that you may have to discover on your own, as I did, but I suspected you would prefer to have some instruction on these matters rather than one day spawning an egg inside someone and having it hatch without intending for it to happen. I have also included matters relating to nutrition and other aspects of health. All the sections have illustrations where it is necessary to properly explain the concepts being described.

That long, thorough text answered many of Neuvillette’s questions, and many questions Neuvillette had no realized he had. The language used was dryer than any lawbook, so it took a long time for him to get through it, but this was something he had sorely needed. And it was the only proof of other dragons in the world that he had ever received, save for the Vishaps, most of whom were barely more than animals. Neuvillette vowed to one day meet Morax and speak with him.

It was not long after that the Cataclysm came, the Khaenri’ahn monsters pouring in from rips in reality. Egeria told Neuvillette that attacking Khaenri’ah had been necessary, that their shaking off of Celestia’s principles would bring punishment to the whole of Tevyat far worse than what happened to Remuria if the Archons did not strike them down first. It was not justice, but it was necessary. Egeria was lost in that war, as was Beelzebub, and Buer, in all the ways that mattered.

Neuvillette only met Morax briefly in the aftermath, as the seven nations rallied to help rebuild each other. Neuvillette felt the presence of another dragon like a ripple in the water, the weight of his magic tugging at his rhinophores in an urgent signal. He found Rex Lapis instructing Belleau Region humans in moving themselves around such that he could press the seams of their broken island back together without crushing any of them. The long, snakelike body flew between pillars of stone as it raised and sunk them, putting everything as it was before. He had turned, blinking those amber eyes at him slowly.

“I am sorry for your loss,” he said.

“Thank you.”

There were a great many things Neuvillette wanted to ask, or to say. But there were so many mortal eyes watching, and they did not need to know what Neuvillette was.

“Do you need assistance? I could push back the tide while you repair the coastline,” he said instead.

They worked together for several hours. When the island was repaired, Morax was urgently called to strike down another remnant pockets of Abyssal monsters that had emerged in Sumeru, and that was the last Neuvillette saw of him.

It had rained heavily the day Neuvillette heard the news of Rex Lapis’s passing, and then a furious storm had shook the waters of Fontaine’s ocean when a sharp-eyed Yaksha brought Neuvillette a single-page letter in Morax’s handwriting, explaining that he had faked his death. Liyue did not need its archon anymore, but the Seven Dragon Sovereigns needed each other, the letter explained. Neuvillette did not know what the Sovereigns needed each other for, but there was a feeling deep, deep somewhere in him that it was true. Still, the rain went on for so long that not just the Melusines, but even Lady Furina started trying to cheer him up.

Many times in the months that passed afterwards, Neuvillette found himself sitting at his desk in front of a blank sheet of letter-paper. If Morax had retired from public life, could Neuvillette speak with him now? But the letter had not had a return address. And how could he impose his selfish need for companionship on one of the Archons? And… Neuvillette was so busy. The court was open nearly every day, sometimes featuring many cases in one day. There were public matters to attend to and Melusines to look after. The riptide of loneliness that had long since taken hold of Neuvillette’s heart was not important in comparison to those things.

It was from the depths of this quiet despair that Neuvillette found himself suddenly dragged up to surface when he had his unexpected tryst with Duke Wriothesley.

Neuvillette had taken human lovers long ago in the past, but without fail, each of them was scared off at some point. Neuvillette was too different. His anatomy too strange, no matter how beautiful some humans found his face. Yet… Wriothesley had accepted each thing Neuvillette showed him, with enthusiasm, not just tolerance. It was embarrassing to even admit to himself, but that one afternoon’s impulse had done more to soothe Neuvillette’s pain than even he thought it would. It was not just how long it had been since he laid with someone else. The acceptance, the praise, settled around him like a warm blanket. Wriothesley had even said he’d be with him again.

It was a rush to expereince physical intimacy after such a long time. Neuvillette found himself in his bathtub not two days later, frantically wringing himself out with both hands to the memory of Wriothesley touching him. So many eggs spilled out of him that the bathtub ran over.

… But Neuvillette’s ovary had been entirely emptied when Wriothesley played with him. It had left him sore afterwards, cramping up like he had an illness. How was he making more of them so fast, and so many? When Neuvillette had cleaned and dried up the mess he’d made of his house, he pulled the ancient instructional tome out of its hiding place.

Rate of Creation of the Eggs

Eggs grow naturally in a dragon’s ovary over time. In times of extreme stress or little food, egg production will slow or even stop, the way it would in any other animal. Conversely, when the conditions are good for eggs to be laid, they will be grown much faster. These conditions include food in abundance, outside temperature well suited for eggs to survive outside the body, strong presence of an elemental dragon’s aligned element, or copulation with a mating partner that is considered by the body to be well suited for parenting. These factors are determined by the body, not the mind (see the recollection of Apep’s lecture on the ‘Lizard Brain’). A suitable mate, for instance, could be one who is strong and healthy, or who has a well-secured lair, or who the subject has a strong emotional connection to. It could also be any combination of these things, or only one of them, even to the exclusion of the other factors. The Sovereign Dragons of Lightning and Ice were said to despise each other, but the Cryo Dragon would complain that the Electro Dragon’s presence, with her health and her size, made her grow new eggs so frequently that it was an inconvenience to her. This was one of the reasons for their chosen territories being so far apart from each other.

Neuvillette closed the book and dropped his head onto the desk.

“My hindbrain thinks Wriothesley would make a good father,” he groaned.

He was strong, for a human, and healthy, maybe too healthy for a human, and if the Fortress of Meropide could be considered his lair, it was certainly secure. But Neuvillette did not want to lay a clutch into him!

… Well.

There was no need to lie to himself, alone in his own room. Neuvillette did not wish to spawn a clutch into Wriothesley that hatched. They were both far too occupied with work to raise hatchlings, and Neuvillette had the Melusines to look after, who he already saw as his daughters. Wriothesley had his prisoners to care for and the weight of the Primordial Sea to keep down below Meropide. If they did meet privately, and fall into bed, again, Neuvillette would simply take the necessary precautions to avoid the small, small chance of fertilization with a human.

He hoped they would meet again soon.

Sigewinne smiled placidly across the table in the Fortress of Meropide’s cafeteria. “So, what did you do with Monsieur Neuvillette’s eggs? You didn’t eat them, did you?”

Wriothesley choked on his disgusting milkshake and started coughing. Sigewinne gasped and hurried around the table to thump his back. She stuck her hands into his mouth to clear his airway. Before she could perform the Heimlich Maneuver on him, Wriothesley waved her off.

“Can we not talk about this here?” he whispered.

Sigewinne blinked. “Oh. Of course! Intimacy is a very personal, private matter for humans! Yes, we can discuss this later, in your office.”

Wriothesley looked around frantically. Had anyone heard that? There weren’t many people in the area, and none sitting too close. They looked vaguely worried for their Duke, but no one seemed scandalized or intruiged.

“Sorry about that,” Wriothesley said, a little too loudly. “Nurse Sigewinne, if you have the time, I have a new type of tea I would just love to share with you. Do you , in fact, have the time?”

Sigewinne pulled an oversized pocket watch out of her apron pocket and peered at it. “I have a few minutes,” she decided.

“Perfect! Let’s go to my office and finish our meals there.”

He hurried so fast to his office that it was a wonder Sigewinne was able to keep up. He did start the kettle and begin preparing the tea. He needed something to distract himself with if they were going to have this conversation.

“I have been gifted this tea by the Kamisato Commission in discussions about trading some clockworks with Inazuma now that the Sakoku Decree has been lifted,” he said, “The tea leaves there suck up electro as the Thunder Sakura begin to bloom, which means that the very middle of spring produces the most flavorful, notable leaves, made sweet by slight elemental Quickening. These are roasted after being picked at just the right moment. It is a prized thing I have long wished to taste.”

“Thank you!” said Sigewinne. “Did you eat the eggs? I didn’t see them in the medical waste bin, and I don’t know where else something like that could safely be disposed of.”

Wriothesley took a deep, deep breath, while his teakettle started to whistle anxiously.

“If it is truly a matter of public safety,” he said slowly, “No. I did not eat them. Monsieur absorbed their Hydro element back into his body, which left almost just the skins, which he… took with him.”

“What an efficient way to cycle elemental energy,” Sigewinne sighed dreamily. “Was is a nice sexual encounter?”

Wriothesley finished preparing the tea and set it down just a little too harshly. “Do you absolutely need to know?”

“Of course! I’m your nurse.” Sigewinne’s bright smile did little to soothe Wriothesley, only aggravating him further. “And I consider you a personal friend, and I care for Monsieur Neuvillette as a treasured family member. If you two had a good time, that makes me happy.”

Wriothesley scowled. “Just so you know,” he said, “Humans find it unsettling when you ask if they fucked your dad.”

“Hmmm. I didn’t ask that. I asked if you had a good time with Monsieur Neuvillette.” Sigewinne corrected.

“Oh. Okay. Asking if your dad was a good fuck is also a… socially abrasive thing to do. If you ask that to someone out of the blue, they may assume you are starting a fight with them.”

“I would never start a fight with you!” Sigewinne insisted.

“… Okay. Okay.”

“Was it a nice--”

“Yes, Sigewinne, the sex was nice,” Wriothesley snapped.

She was unperturbed by his tone. “Oh, I see. Congratulations!”

He stared at his Head Nurse, his partner in crime, his closest friend, in absolute horror. She sipped slowly at the Flower-Viewing tea.

“This is a lovely blend,” she decided. “I can tell it was prepared with much care. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“… Thank you, Sigewinne.”

“You’re welcome.” She swung her feet, drinking the tea with great enjoyment.

That… did calm Wriothesley down. It seemed damn near impossible to get anyone to share a cup of tea with him, between being in charge of most people he was around all day. Tea was a joy on its own, but the best teas were always best complimented not by milk, or sugar, or sweets that matched their flavor profile, but by companionship and good conversation.

Sigewinne set her teacup down gently. “So,” she said, “Do you have any questions for me about Monsieur Neuvillette? You seem much more interested in him than I originally thought, and I would like to help you if I can. I can’t tell most of his secrets, but there are many other things I could share.”

Wriothesley thought about it. “Most things, I could just ask him myself, I think,” he said, “But… what does he like?”

“I don’t know, Your Grace. I have not had sex with--”

“--No no no.” Wriothesley pulled a face “I meant, does he have… hobbies?”

“Oh! Yes, actually--”

It was later that week that Neuvillette received a package at his office in the Palais Mermonia. Upon opening it, he discovered a square glass bottle, filled with water. Attached was a letter.

To Chief Justice Neuvillette

I have been told that you enjoy sampling water from various parts of the globe. This is a bottle of snowmelt from the Dragonspine, which I am told is the water preferred by alchemists for distillation. I am not sure what flavor Vindagnyr adds to water, but I would like it very much if you could tell me later.

Warmest regards,
Duke Wriothesley

Neuvillette shook his head, smiling ruefully. He had already sampled Vindagnyr Peak’s water several times. It was prized by alchemists because of the way the cold on the mountain seemed to stay with the water longer, making it effective in stabilizing elemental reactions in the laboratory. The taste was crisp and had some bite to it, which seemed perfect for Wriothesley.

Yet it warmed something in Neuvillette’s chest that Wriothesley had thought of him. He reached for a pen and paper.

To Duke Wriothesley

I told you I would let you know when I would be available to meet. I have had some rather complex cases on my plate in recent days, but have most of an afternoon to myself in four days, starting at two o’clock so long as my previous meeting does not run over. I will keep the water from the Dragonspine uncorked until then, and we can open it together.

Equally warm regards,
Neuvillette.

Neuvillette received an express-postage letter that very night.

As promised, I’ll clear my schedule.

Four days later, Neuvillette had a trial to preside over in the morning.

It did not go well. A woman, who had been experiencing friction in her marriage, had been accused of her husband’s murder. The claimant was the deceased’s son from his first marriage. However, as the evidence was presented, it became increasingly apparent that the deceased had been manipulating everyone in both of his families to play them against each other, witholding affection or making them feel something was their fault. And, in the end, through the Marachausee Phantom’s forensic evidence and the proving of the defendant’s alibi, the deceased’s gruesome death was ruled to be an incredibly tragic accident.

All this senseless arguing, all this demanding the bereaved to reveal their most private secrets, when there was no murder, no justice to serve. Why make this woman, her children, and her husband’s ex-wife and other children go through this when no one was to blame? It was pouring rain when Neuvillette left the courthouse. Lady Furina, standing at his side, held an umbrella for both of them, even though Neuvillette was much taller.

Three times, on their commute back to the Palais, she turned and opened her mouth as if to speak, but all she managed to say was, “That was disappointing,” on the Palais’s threshold, before patting Neuvillette’s hand and disappearing into the elevator to her chambers on the top floor.

Faced with the thought that he’d worried his Archon, who he was sworn to protect, Neuvillette still had to attend his lunch meeting with the Advocates’ Association. Making prosecutioners and defense attorneys sit in the same room for any period of time outside of court rarely went well. Reforms in the bar exam were being discussed, and there was a great deal of arguing over whether these reforms were necessary. They were eventually able to reach a decision, but Neuvillette had a headache, and his spirits were still low.

It was still raining heavily when Wriothesley arrived at Neuvillette’s office an hour later for their talk. He was drenched, his clothes soaked through, leaving puddles as he came in.

“I always forget that I might need an umbrella when I leave the Fortress,” he laughed. “Sorry. I’ll stand in the very middle so I don’t get any of your papers wet.”

Neuvillette looked out the window to the rain pelting the streets. “I think I should be the one apologizing,” he said quietly.

Wriothesley cocked his head to the side. “Huh?”

“… Never you mind. I am not so cruel as to make you stand and catch cold for the sake of a personal conversation. I have rooms further up in the tower, and I can lend you something dry. Come with me.”

Neuvillette crossed the room to meet him. Should he take his arm? Or was that too familiar? Did Wriothesley want to act as if their reason for meeting today was strictly professional?

The Duke put his hands on his hips. “You seem lost in thought. Are you that eager to get me naked, Chief Justice?”

Heat flooded Neuvillette’s face. “I--”

“Oh, that was easy, look at you.” Wriothesley grinned. “Okay, lead on, I don’t want to leave water stains on your carpet.”

Neuvillette schooled his features back into their usual impartiality and guided Wriothesley towards the elevator. Sedenne, the Melusine who manned the reception desk, looked up at them curiously as they passed. Every other Melusine did too, cheerily greeting Neuvillette as he passed. He did not get the chance to speak with Wriothesley until they were alone in the elevator.

“So the rumors are true,” Wriothesley said, “People rarely see you leave other than for trials. You really do sleep in your office.”

Neuvillette frowned. “I do not. We are going to my private chambers on the second-highest floor.”

Furina had demanded Neuvillette take the second penthouse because she caught him sleeping in his office four hundred years ago, but Wriothesley did not need to know that. The amount of work Neuvillette was given meant that he did not have the time to commute back to his underwater cave beneath the city every night. Over the centuries, the apartment had become a second home, the place he stored the things that belonged to “Neuvillette, the Chief Justice.” The underwater lair belonged solely to “Neuvillette, the Hydro Dragon.”

“… So,” Wriothesley said, as the elevator went up, up, the tower of the Palais, “Sigewinne knows what we did. I didn’t tell her, but you know better than anyone, Melusines can sense...”

“Yes,” Neuvillette coughed, “Just as they can see the faintest traces of blood, even after it has been washed away, for weeks, they can see the traces of other chemicals, including semen. Out of consideration do not discuss these things openly, unless necessary evidence for a case, so if you wish for what we have done to remain a secret…”

Wriothesley stepped in close. The elevator was large, built to accommodate ten or more humans, but Neuvillette was now crowded into the corner. “I came in your mouth. Does that mean every Melusine you walked past on the way home last week saw that you’d sucked me off?”

Neuvillete could feel the heat rising in his face again. “Some of them... may have noticed.”

“Did they congratulate you?” Wriothesley asked, close enough that his breath moved against Neuvillette’s skin.

“… What?”

Wriothesley looked up at him from behind dark lashes, his smile self-satisfied, water dripping from his hair down his face. “You said it had been awhile for you. The Melusines would have known that too. Did they congratulate you in those cheery little voices on getting some action?”

Neuvillette swallowed thickly. Wriothesley was too close, and Neuvillette’s heart was pounding. He couldn’t get too excited, too distracted, before they discussed where these matters were going to go. He had to retain his composure for now.

“None of them asked me directly,” he said slowly, “But Sedenne and the others I see regularly… seemed happy for me. If we did repeat those… types of activities, they would piece together that it was with you.”

Wriothesley snorted, the puff of air tickling his neck. Neuvillette forced himself to stay still, not to react.

“Well, I thought that might be the case. I’ve had the time to make my peace with that.” Wriothesley reached up for him, his eyes starting to flutter closed…

And then he paused. “Fuck. Your suit is silk, isn’t it? I can’t get water stains on that either.”

He pulled away. Neuvillette inhaled and prepared to explain that it would be all right, he had all of his clothes treated to be water-safe, but then the elevator’s bell chimed and the doors opened.

“Ah. We are here.”

Wriothesley let Neuvillette leave the elevator first and guide him down the short hallway on the landing to this floor. It really was a shame their ride up had been so short. Wriothesley had the Chief Justice against the wall, and he hadn’t had the time to do more than tease him. It seemed harder to rile him up without touching him. But then, Wriothesley’s clothes were sopping wet, and he was cold, and it wasn’t exactly comfortable. Tempting as it was to pin Neuvillette against the door of the elevator and grind against him until he was hissing and whining again, he’d rather start warm and dry.

“This floor houses my apartment, a confidential evidence locker, and the office of the Palais’ steward,” Neuvillette was explaining, as he withdrew a key from his pockets, “I know I should not have to tell you this, but even if the other two doors are unlocked, do not wander in. It could cause unnecessary trouble for you.”

Wriothesley looked at the two doors across from Neuvillette’s. “Are they liable to hear us if I get you loud enough?”

Neuvillette paused, his key still in the lock. “No. These floors are well-soundproofed. Additionally, as long as my windows remain closed, Lady Furina will not hear us, unless we are in my personal office and she is on her balcony above it..”

“Can Lady Furina see traces of me even after you wash your face, too?” Wriothesley asked.

Neuvillette opened the door to his apartment and gave Wriothesley a flat look over his shoulder. “No, she will not. She may sense leftover Hydro element on you, though, in the future, if it has not been very long since our encounter.”

Wriothesley made a mental note that it was harder to fluster the Chief Justice through words alone, and even harder if he brought up official matters. The man took his work very seriously-- which, honestly, was a comfort. Neuvillette was an essential part of Fontaine’s values. Wriothesley had not even held it against him when Neuvillette sentenced him to be put away. His fault for getting caught, really.

“Here we are.”

Neuvillette’s apartment was unnecessarily grand, but that was what Wriothesley was expecting. They walked through the foyer full of paintings of Fontaine’s landscapes, and one of the view over Liyue Harbor, past a sitting room, and into the large bedroom with its curtained bed and floor-to-ceiling windows against the curved side of the room. There were more scenic paintings here, of various coastlines from around Tevyat.

Neuvillette opened a wardrobe and produced a bathrobe, loose trousers with corset lacing in the front, and a voluminous ruffled blouse. “These are the largest pieces of clothing I own. Hopefully they will fit. I am taller than you, but your figure is much more strongly built. If the clothes do not work, you have the bathrobe. As for shoes, I am unsure if mine will fit, so I will light a fire and hang your boots over it while you change--”

“Sounds like I’ll be stuck here until my clothes are dry,” Wriothesley teased.

Neuvillette looked away. “I suppose. But I did mean it when I wrote I only have a few hours this afternoon, so if your things are not dry by my dinner appointment, you will have to wait here alone, which you may find tedious.”

He was talking a lot, Wriothesley noticed. Trying to fill the space. New inmates always did this when they were trying to stave off the fear or anxiety of being brought down below into Meropide. Did Wriothesley make him nervous? Or was something else bothering him?

He took the clothes from him. “I can always wait up for you in your bed,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Neuvillette’s eyes flickered to Wriothesley’s lips, but he pulled away. “… I believe… we should discuss things… before we decide to arrange for that.”

“… Suppose that’s fair,” Wriothesley said. Even having casual sex would be complicated for someone with Neuvillette’s authority. And with his strange anatomy on top of that, which he clearly had some hangups about… well, maybe that was why he was so nervous.

“Be right back,” Wriothesley promised, and he darted into the attached bathroom. It hosted the largest tub he had ever seen, built right into the floor, an enormous claw-footed affair under a window with steps leading up onto it. It seemed like it could definitely fit two adult men, but then, maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

He stripped out of his wet clothes, hanging them up over the shower curtain, toweled himself of-- softest towel he’d ever held, how did Neuvillette ever leave this room-- and headed back out.

Neuvillette was standing by the window in a dry set of clothes, looking out into the rain. It seemed to be letting up, but the streets far below were still a flower garden of umbrellas and children splashing in puddles.

“Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don’t cry,” Wriothesley murmured, coming to join Neuvillette at the window.

Neuvillette turned, abruptly, eyes wide. “How long have you known?”

“… What?”

Wriothesley looked at Neuvillette’s face, the anxious, searching expression. He looked out at the rain, then back to him.

“What?” He said again.

He thought about the scales at the base of Neuvillette’s hips where his cocks jutted out when he’d seen them. The claws, the teeth, those eyes, that tongue--

He’d said he was crying, in the throws of last week’s encounter, but his eyes had been merely dewy. But when they left the Fortress together, the air had been wet, the ground covered in puddles. It seemed so obvious now that Wriothesley honestly felt stupid. His jaw dropped

“That’s what it was? I honestly thought you were a Melusine.”

Neuvillette stared at Wriothesley. Wriothesley stared back.

“You did, Your Grace?”

“Yes, Chief Justice.”

“…”

“Should I ask why you’re crying?” Wriothesley said.

His mind was reeling, of course. He’d jerked off the Hydro Dragon. The Sovereign of Water had been jelly in his lap, scratching deep gouges into his desk, begging, he’d gotten spend and eggs all over him, and then he’d sucked him off. It made sense, of course, with Neuvillette’s long life, the way the Melusines looked up to him, why he’d been able to just show up and become the Chief Justice after the Cataclysm, but--

Neuvillette was crying. Judging by the look of the city, he’d been crying all day. Wriothesley could process the rest of it later.

“This morning’s trial was… unpleasant,” Neuvillette said, “I suppose it… affected me. I went directly after it into a meeting, and then did not have much time between that and my appointment with you.”

“And you haven’t had the time to come down from all of that, and because no one can tell you’re upset, you just… power through it,” Wriothesley realized. “That can’t be healthy.”

Neuvillette turned away again. “There are things that must be done--”

Wriothesley hugged him. It seemed the right thing to do. He felt so fragile in his arms, strong as Wriothesley knew he was.

“… There are responsibilities I have,” Neuvillette continued, “That no one else can attend to. So I take on the work. I have carried on this way for five hundred years, Your Grace. I will be… all right.”

Still, he pressed his hands against Wriothesley’s back, holding him close. Wriothesley stroked his hair, careful not to tug on his antennae. He’d rather only touch those on purpose later.

“Let’s sit,” he murmured. “You wanted to open that water together, right? Let’s try it, and then after, we can have that talk.”

Neuvillette nodded, pressing close.

“… Or I could ride you now on the floor until you’re too incoherent to cry, and we could talk after?”

Wriothesly felt, more than heard, the sharp intake of breath that swelled up Neuvillette’s chest. “N-no, that would not be wise. Let’s sit.”

“You did think about it, though,” Wriothesley said, following Neuvillette to a couch to sit.

“Your Grace, you are incorrigible. Come sit.”

Wriothesley sat right next to Neuvillette on the cushions. With great ceremony, Neuvillette opened the bottle, and carefully poured it into two glasses.

“Snowmelt or icemelt is best enjoyed in a flute, I find. It retains the inherent cryo element better that way,” Neuvillette said. He handed Wriothesley a glass, allowing their fingers to brush. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and his nails… his nails were a pale blue color, but it didn’t seem they were painted. They were pointed, and looked sharp, more like claws than fingernails.

Because he was a dragon. Right.

Wriothesley took a sip of his water. It tasted, to him, rather like an ordinary glass of water. It was better than the tap water in the Fortress, which was cycled internally and safe to drink but always tasted a little off. Was it different from the bottled water he drank at restaurants? Wriothesley honestly could not tell.

“Very refreshing,” he supplied.

The corners of Neuvillette’s mouth tilted up. “Yes. As the Dragonspine is uninhabited, save for a few research outposts, its water is free of contaminants from civilization. It is quite refreshing.”

He sipped it. “I… appreciate the gesture. I know water fancy is not a common hobby.”

Wriothesley shrugged. “I knew a little,” he admitted. “Water from different countries is suitable for different teas, which means some teas do not ship well to other places. I had to learn that the hard way when Mond Industries send the Fortress their prize blend, and I used the soft water from home when the water in Cider Lake is a lot harder. I had to have some shipped in to be able to enjoy their gift properly.”

Neuvillette set down his glass, slowly. “How did you find the water from Cider Lake?”

Oh no. Was this a test? Wriothesley had found the water very expensive. “I could tell the difference better through the tea,” he said diplomatically. “It was slightly… bitter? Compared to our drinking water, that is.”

“Yes. Exactly. The water in Cider Lake has an abundance of minerals, the same minerals that made their produce well prized.” Neuvillette poured both of them another glass of the snowmelt.

Wriothesley looked over at the rain. It was letting up. Good.

“That lines up with what I read,” he said.

“You have an interest in tea?” Neuvillette asked politely.

“I do. I have quite the collection. I really should have brought some along to brew for you, I wasn’t sure if we were just going to meet in your office.” Or if they were just going to have a quick one and go their separate ways, Wriothesley added to himself in his thoughts. “I know you’re a busy man. Dragon.”

“I am. A busy man, and a busy dragon.” Neuvillete reached over and corked the bottle, setting it aside in a bucket of ice as if it were sparkling wine.

“… We should discuss what we came here to discuss,” he said.

Wriothesley glanced out the window again. It hadn’t stopped yet. “Should we wait? I can come back another day.”

“Please, don’t worry about that,” Neuvillette said. “I am feeling much better. And… I would like to have that talk.”

“Do you need me to sign a non-disclosure agreement?” Wriothesley joked.

“No, not that. We are not in Liyue. While I would like you to keep my secret, notarizing it creates extra risks of the contract being found after we file it. And… I would prefer to simply trust you.” Neuvillette reached for Wriothesley’s hand. He let him take it.

“You can trust me,” Wriothesley said.

Neuvillette squeezed his hand. “I know. Your conduct at the Fortress of Meropide has long since proved that.”

“Chief Justice, you’ll make me blush,” Wriothesley said weakly.

“That will make us even, then. Now. As you know, I am not human. I am a dragon.”

“Yes, I saw,” Wriothesley said, grinning. “I’d really like to see the rest.”

Neuvillette pursed his lips, unimpressed. “Yes. I am aware. Before that, we need to discuss certain measures of safety. My physical form has a certain level of… liquidity, as you saw. When I am less able to hold control, it is difficult for me to hold some of the features back. This may be dangerous.”

Wriothesly held up their clasped hands. “They looked dangerous. I saw what you did to my desk-- you’re sanding these down before you finger me.”

“That is one example. My teeth, as well, tend to change. You saw that too.”

“Yeah, I did,” Wriothesley said. “You know, I don’t mind if you draw a little blood…”

“Your Grace. This is serious. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Wriothesley relented. “No, I understand. Be careful around your teeth. Not that I know if I’ll be able to stop you if you really want to bite down. I mean. You’re the Hydro Dragon.”

“… It has not been a problem for me in the past. I do not have that urge in particular. Holding the mate in place with the teeth is largely a mammalian impulse,” said Neuvillette primly. “You will also notice I did not bite off your penis last week when you were in my mouth.”

Wriothesley winced. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“In the future, if I am performing oral, do not buck into my mouth the way you did.”

“No, no, I heard you, loud and clear,” Wriothesley said quickly. “I won’t shove it in there.”

Neuvillette fidgeted again. “And there is… the eggs.”

Wriothesley grinned. “I saw them. I don’t mind. Really.”

“Yes. Well-- there are certain risks.”

“Sigewinne was worried about whether I’d ate them,” Wriothesley recalled. “Are they poisonous?”

“No, but they have highly concentrated Hydro energy. There is a chance of an elemental reaction with your Cryo vision. You could be frozen, which would be… medically dangerous.”

“What about your cum?” Wriothesley asked, leaning in closer.

Neuvillette shook his head. “No. I-- have not had any issues with that. And it is easy to tell when the eggs are beginning to spill, for either of us, and if one falls in your mouth, you can just spit it out--”

“– Wait. Did someone freeze up from eating your eggs before?”

Neuvillette looked down at his lap. “No… he had an Electro vision.”

Wriothesley started. “You electrocuted him? During sex?”

“It was an accident, and he lived,” Neuvillette mumbled. “Sigewinne had him entirely healed in less than a weak. Other than… the feeling in his tongue, which… took months to fully recover, I am told.”

“He didn’t tell you when it came back?”

“No. He would not see me again after he that, so I had to ask Sigewinne.”

“… Fuck.”

Neuvillette nodded. “Yes. Quite.”

Wriothesley heard the rain against the windows pound harder. No wonder Neuvillette was so nervous about showing himself. About sharing any of this.

“How long ago was that?” he asked, gently.

“Thirty-eight years,” Neuvillette said tightly.

“So… before I was born. And you’ve had to tell that to everyone you went to bed with since, at least if they had a Vision that wasn’t Hydro?”

Neuvillette bit his lip, turning towards the window again.

“… Have you… not told anyone?” Wriothesley ventured.

Neuvillette shook his head. “I have not had to.”

“… You haven’t… with anyone...”

“No, Your Grace.”

“For forty years.”

“… Thirty-eight, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley wondered if that felt like a long time to Neuvillette or not, with his longevity. Was it the longest dry spell he’d had, or a relatively short one, with how little he trusted others? He wasn’t sure if this was the time for an interrogation about his past boyfriends.

“There is also a very small risk of the eggs being fertilized,” Neuvillette said in one breath. “There is-- record of it happening before, for other dragons, even with humans, or other intelligent creatures such as yokai or adepti.”

Wriothesley thought about the sheer number of eggs that had rolled across his office floor and felt faint for a moment.

“Right, you said,” he said, “Uh, when another-- dragon? Comes in you? Or if you lay them in water? Like a… fish would?”

“Like a fish would, or an amphibian,” Neuvillette assented. “If the water is the right temperature, the eggs would be… especially susceptible to fertilization, so that is the riskiest way, with me.”

“So… no sex that huge bathtub of yours?” Wriothesley pressed, nudging Neuvillette with his thigh.

Neuvillette hesitated. “I would not wish to… rule it out entirely…”

“You wouldn’t?” said Wriothesley. “Is that… how you like it?”

The Chief Justice’s tongue worried at his lips, chewing on his words before speaking. “It is one my… favorite ways to… do the act.”

“We could go start the tub right now if you want,” Wriothesley said, fluttering his lashes.

“N-no, we should-- finish this discussion first,” Neuvillete insisted. “There is also, minimally, some risk if you finish inside me, in the…”

Another pause. Another hurdle for the Sovereign Dragon of Water to clear.

Wriothesley squeezed his hand. “In where, Chief Justice?”

“I-- mentioned that my hemipenes retract after I am finished, last time? They also, naturally, are usually… internal. The-- the ovary is connected to that area, so if you finished into the vent, that would be riskier than most other methods, even though you are human. It is-- the way dragons with harder eggshells must do the act, even, to reproduce, so its success rate is… high.”

Wriothesley thought about this. “But in your ass is fine? Raw? And the vent is… on the table, if I don’t finish inside?”

“Or if we have thoroughly expulsed my eggs recently,” Neuvillete breathed. “There also… won’t be so many, usually, or won’t always be any at all. The body makes them over time. My ovary had been entirely full.”

“So I got the maximum load…” Wriothesley turned, resting his chin on Neuvillette’s shoulder. “How fast do they grow back? Do you have more for me?” he murmured into the shell of his pointed ear.

Neuvillette shuddered. “I-- I might. Again, not-- nearly so many, though.”

“Because you’ve been touching yourself, thinking about what we did? I have. Pretty much every day.”

“Your gracccce--” Wriothesley saw the flicker of the pointed tongue when Neuvillette hissed. Oh, he was getting worked up.

Neuvillette looked over to him, his brow furrowed. “Should I also ask about your preferences?”

Wriothesley smiled and shrugged. “Oh, I’m easy. I really like doing what makes who I’m with happy. Other than that, I like bottoming from the top. I like being in charge. And I like being choked.”

Neuvillette sputtered, the dragon-tongue lashing every direction comically. “Cho—”

He fluttered his lashes up at him. “Don’t worry, I know how to tap out.”

“I-- have never--” Neuvillette’s eyed focused on Wriothesley’s neck.

“… We can talk through that another time if we want.” He laid a hand on Neuvillette’s hip, pulling himself closer. “Is there anything else we need to discuss?”

“Jusssst-- one thing,” Neuvillette said, “The matter of-- your health? You said you are-- active.”

Wriothesley grinned. “Sigewinne gives me a full checkup if I so much as hold hands with someone-- and we both know, she can always tell. I got a clean bill after the last time before you.”

He had probably gotten far too comfortable with his Head Nurse knowing about his sex life. Venereal disease could sweep through the Fortress of Meropide like a flash fire if it wasn’t stopped early, though, so the checkups were an occupational hazard for everyone who lived or worked there.

“So did I.” Neuvillette assured him. Wriothesley wondered if it would even matter if it had been thirty-eight years. “Sssso... if that is all..”

“We can start?”

“Yes. I believe we have… discussed everything important--”

Wriothesley bowled him over onto the couch and crashed after him. He pulled at his lips with his teeth, sucked that pointed tongue into his mouth, groaning. He fumbled for Neuvillette’s cravat blindly, not wanting to pull away enough to see. He managed to untie the knot and used both hands to pull it away, then started on the pearl buttons of the high-collared shirt he wore beneath. There were far too many, he thought. He sat up, panting, drinking in the sight of Neuvillette kiss-bruised and already flushed. He’d barely managed to unbutton down to his sternum, and he huffed in frustration as he continued to work at the shirt now that he could see it.

“Next time, if you know we’re doing this, wear something easier to take off,” He grumbled. Neuvillette only sighed, arching into his touch.

Wriothesley got the shirt open and pushed it aside. Neuvillette’s nipples, unsurprisingly at this point, were blue, and he had scales, dotted across his sides, some of them blue, some of them pearlescent white. His soft belly heaved with the force of his breath, and a line of blue fins on the sides of his neck flapped at the same time.

“… Gills?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Neuvillette said, starting to sit up, to explain, but Wriothesley shushed him reassuringly, petting his chest. He’d had all the biology lessons he think he needed for the day, safe for the demonstration he was currently undertaking.

“… Are they sensitive?”

A different kind of nervousness flashed across Neuvillette’s face. “Not everything sensitive for me is sensual-- they’re delicate.”

Wriothesley chuckled. “That would be pretty inconvenient, if everything turned you on. You wear a collar over them every day, so it wouldn’t hurt to touch, right?”

“… If you are curious,” Neuvillette said.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to suddenly start licking them this time.” Wriothesley saw the dark look Neuvillette gave him and laughed. He kissed him again before moving a little lower, to see the gills close up. They flared as Neuvillette breathed.

“… Can you breathe underwater?” Wriothesley asked.

He got a quiet little nod.

“Remind me about that when we do make it into the bathtub,” Wriothesley said, stroking a gill curiously with the back of a finger. They were soft, close to how it felt touching Neuvillette’s lips. He petted them, a moment, then kissed the skin on Neuvillette’s neck next to them. He earned a quiet, hissing gasp.

“So, the gills are a no-go, but the throat is fine?”

“… Please do not leave marks I cannot cover up with my clothing,” Neuvillette murmured.

“Got it. You can if you want,” Wriothesley said easily. When Neuvillette sat up, scandalized, Wriothesley surged up to kiss him again. The sharp teeth felt better now that Wriothesley knew they were dangerous. He’d file that thought away to examine better later, but for now, he kissed the Chief Justice like he was drowning and needed him for air. He pulled away enough to dip lower, kissing Neuvillette’s jaw, then his neck, but Neuvillette tugged at his shirt, stopping him.

Wriothestly paused. “What’s up?”

Neuvillette tugged at the shirt again. “I would like to see you too. Please.”

It was a fair and reasonable request. Why did it make Wriothesley feel this warm inside? He nodded and pulled the shirt over his head. Something scratched against his belly. Wriothesley looked down and saw Neuvillette untying the laces that held up his borrowed pants.

“So eager?” Wriothesley teased.

Neuvillette stopped for a moment, looking up at him, those predator animal’s eyes possessive, but also openly innocent. Trusting.

“I gave you these to wear because I was looking forward to unwrapping you. Am I not allowed?” he asked, tugging at the string.

He may as well have knocked all the breath right out of him. “… Go ahead.”

Neuvillette steemed content to pull out the lacing loop by loop. “We never discussed what we are doing today,” he said, conversationally. The man was a fortress. He could snap back to the placid tone the second Wriothesley stopped teasing him.

Wriothesley bit the inside of his cheek, pretending to think it over. He knew exactly what he wanted. “I was hoping you’d fuck me hard and fast with those two battering rams between you legs, then fill me up with eggs until I was spitting them out the other side?”

“Archons--” Neuvillette swore. His claw ripped through the front of the trousers, and cut into Wriothesley’s thigh. “Oh-- Your Grace-- I’m sorry--”

Wriothesley winced. “Y-you did warn me,” he said. “Should we bandage--”

Something warm washed over Wriothesley’s cut. He looked down and saw Neuvillette blue tongue dragging over the wound, lapping up the blood. The cut remained, but the bleeding… stopped.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, concerned. Wriothesley found himself glancing out the window again. It had not stopped raining, even if it definitely wasn’t so heavy now.

“I’m fine, I promise. But what I said about sanding those claws down definitely stands. Today, though, I think you’ll have to just watch me do it.”

Neuvillette moaned, soflty. “I… will make do, with that,” he said.

“Oh, Chief Justice. How merciful you are.” Wriothesley swung his leg off of him and stood, kicking off the ruined pants. “Now get on the bed.”

Neuvillette stood and went to sit on the bed without another word. Wriothesley’s eyes watched the bulge in the front of his pants, the thing he’d felt slowly growing under him. “Oh, could you strip, too? It’s only fair.”

Neuvillete shrugged off his shirt, folding it and setting it aside. He unbottoned and stepped out of the trousers, then the under-wear, as exact in his actions as a clockwork doll. But his face was aflame with blue, his gills blushing harder than the rest of him, and Neuvillette’s cocks were…

“Were they bigger, last time?” Wriothesley asked, sitting on the back of Neuvillete’s couch, facing him.

“They are not entirely out yet,” Neuvillette said defensively. The cocks curled in on themselves, as if they were flustered too.

“Sounds like I’d better give all three of you a show. You got lube? Mine is in my drying pants in your bathroom.”

“… You came prepared.” Neuvillette mumbled. He went to his bedside table and produced a phial of oil, and tossed it over when Wriothesley held out both hands.

“You can always give me your own show,” Wriothesley suggested. Neuvillette hissed and seemed to slide out another inch at the suggestion, but he only sat on the edge of his bed, hands gripping the blankets.

Wriothesly put one leg up on the couch and slid an oiled finger inside himself. He growled softly at the stretch, forcing himself to be patient. His half-hard cock rested against his thigh as he tilted back, both to give himself more room and to give Neuvillette a better view.

The Chief Justice’s eyes were trained on Wriothesley’s fingers, in a look that he almost mistook for his usual sharp-eyed focus. The tongue flickered out, and Neuvillette leaned forward on the bed, the picture of a thing about to pounce. Oh, he wanted him. That rush of power was starting to come back to Wriothesley, sweet and heady.

“Like what you see, Monsieur?” Wriothesley sighed, starting to work his finger in and out. “Can’t wait to be inside?”

“I… can be patient,” Neuvillette said, his voice flickering off into a hiss. Wriothesley smiled, all confidence, working himself open, letting himself moan when he felt it.

“How long did we have again?” he asked, casual, oiling up a second finger.

Neuvillette turned where he sat-- with far more flexibility than would be expected for a human’s spine, Wriothesley would have to remember that-- to glance at a clock on the bedside table.

“Three hourssss left,” he said, “I will need to wasssssh and redressss… ssssstill, plenty of time.”

He seemed less flustered about the hissing this time. That was good, because Wriothesley was determined to squeeze as many pretty noises out of him as possible.

“More than enough time,” he agreed, “Is your appointment in the Palais, or do you need time to commute?”

He started scissoring his fingers apart, stretching, and his head rolled back from the sweet burn. Neuvillette had to shake himself out to answer.

“Sssssseventh floor,” he said, “Sssso-- jussst the elevator.”

“Got it. Plenty of time for me to wreck you and for you to come back together.” Wriothesley drew his fingers in and out, reminding himself to go slow. He wanted to get on him. Wanted to ride those things until Neuvillette forgot his name, and until Wriothesley forgot his, but-- he needed-- to be ready.

“You make a lot of promisssses,” Neuvillette said weakly.

“Do you not believe me?” Wriothesley chided. “You remember how desperate I got you last time, don’t you? And that was with my hands.”

The Chief Justice squirmed. The scales on his legs shimmered in the low light. Wriothesley let himself admire him. Those two flared, frilled erections slid out of their sheathe, slowly, dripping their own lubricant, and starting to leak from the tips.

“Almost ready for me?” Wriothesley asked, giving himself a third finger. “I am. There’s only so much prep I can do for things like those… or can they keep sliding out right into me, once I mount you?”

Neuvillette shivered, gills flapping, the antennae in his hair flexing and curling up briefly. “The ssslide into… might be… easier, in the future, than…”

“Easier for me or you?” Wriothesley jeered, stretching his fingers out to show him how wide open he could go by now, “Is it an easier stretch, or are you just aching for me?”

The glare Neuvillette shot him, face hot, breaths heavy, eyes lidded, came off as more of a pout.

“Okay, okay. So, yes, but I’m pushing it.” Wriothesley grinned. “Enough being cheeky, here I come.”

He pulled his fingers out, wiping them on the discarded, destroyed pants, and crossed the floor to meet him. Neuvillette’s fingers drummed on the sheets, impatient.

“You really can’t keep still when you’re turned on, can you,” Wriothesley crooned. “Scoot up?”

He put his hands on Neuvillette’s waist and urged him up the bed to lie back. “I’d be happy to sit in your lap next time, but I think I want you to see me take you.”

There was also that those things really were huge, and it might be easier if one of them could see what was going on, and Wriothesley had a strong feeling Neuvillette was too shy to do this in front of a mirror. He looked nervous even now.

“Think I won’t make it fit?” Wriothesley huffed.

“One and then the other would be eaaassssier,” Neuvillette said. “But… you did promisssse.”

Wriothesley hovered over him, knees on either side of his hips. He smoothed his hands down Neuvillette’s chest, feeling around the edges of those scales. They winked in the light when Neuvillette breathed in.

Wriothesley reached down to find Neuvillette’s erections. Neuvillette groaned, eyes squeezed shut, as Wriothesley’s hand grabbed both to push them together, then dragged up their lengths, until he had the two heads pressed together.

“Might need you to help for this part,” Wriothesley groaned, “Can’t see-- fuck, you’re so big, I can’t get a good grip on both--”

Maybe he’d be able to keep his balance if he used both hands, but it was much better to see Neuvillette shyly reach up to press his own dicks together, see him grit his sharp teeth and suck in a whistling breath through them, his pupils flared out circular as he fought to keep his eyes open.

“Good boy,” Wriothesley sighed, when Neuvillette’s fingers brushed against his, and the two cockheads seemed snug enough against each other for him to take both. With his seat more secure, Wriothesley braced himself by one hand on the bed and started to sink down.

The gurgling, deep growl that ripped out of Neuvillette was loud enough to drown out Wriothesley’s satisfied moan. But Wriothesley was tense as he continued to lower, because taking the heads was the easy part. With the ends of Neuvillette inside, Wriothesley still had to fight to fit in each rounded ridge that sprouted out to either side of the flared lengths. He grabbed Neuvillette together where he could with his one hand, needing to crush the wide shapes of him in to make them fit past his rim. Neuvillette’s hands dug into Wriothesley’s tones thighs, fingers scrabbling for purchase. Red lines welled up when Neuvillette’s hands slipped.

“Monsieur—” Wriothesley gasped, “Do I not-- have enough scars already?”

Neuvillette whined. “Ssssorry--”

“Just be careful, I said I don’t mind a little,” he reminded him. “Oh… oh, there’s so much of you. I’m almost… on.”

The last of the protrusions slipped in. That still left half the lengths of Neuvillette between them, but Wriothesley figured the rest of it, being smooth, would be easy.

He grinned wickedly before slamming the rest of the way down.

It was not easy. Those wide seashell flares, pushed up that far inside him, punched the air out of Wriothesley, and he almost fell over. He was so deep, and yet they pushed in further just a little as Neuvillette howled, his claws digging into Wriothesley’s legs again.

“That wasn’t all of it?” Wriothesley’s eyes were watering. He was stretched so impossibly, fantastically open, and if there was still more for Neuvillette to push out--

“Thissss-- thissss issss all of it now,” Neuvillette insisted, his tongue hissing even between words, whipping about too fast.

Wriothesley took a deep breath. “Right… all right. L-let me just-- adjust.”

He was the one who felt like he’d come apart, now. Neuvillette at least looked more into it than him, petting his legs nervously, scaled chest heaving as he adjusted.

Wriothesely felt around where they connected. Neuvillete’s dicks were plenty wet-- they’d have to be to come in and out of his vent easily, he thought faintly-- and the rim of the vent now kissed Wriothesley’s hole.

Wriothesley took a few deep breaths, adjusting, steeling himself for what he promised, which was to ride him to incoherency, which was definitely what he still wanted.

“So,” he said conversationally, “No balls?”

Neuvillette pulled a scowl. “Inssssside the vent. I am not pulling them out like thisssssss.”

“Why? One thing I can’t play with?” Wriothesley panted. He rolled his hips against him, just a little, groaning at the shift of the girths inside him.

Neuvillette growled. A warning. Oh, Wriothesley was learning so much more today. “Not-- you’re ssssitting on me. It’ssss- too delicate.”

“Hah-- well-- I guess that’s fair.” Wriothesley shifted again. He was getting used to this, enough that he could think more clearly, at least. “I think… can I move?”

“Please,” Neuvillette gasped, “Pleasssse--”

Wriothesley raised, just an inch, shuddering as the cluster of shapes at the ends of Neuvillette raked through him. He lowered back down, testing.

“Okay,” Wriothesley breathed, “I’ll give you what I promised.”

He leaned onto both hands and pulled himself most of the way up. When he felt the lowest of the frills start to pop out of him, he fell back down. No need to go through the work of cramming all of that back in again repeatedly when he’d barely managed it the first time, he reasoned. Those shapes dug into him at every angle, and as soft and malleable as they were, it was still overwhelming when they dragged inside him. He rose up again, slow, and let gravity do the work when he slammed down again to meet Neuvillette where he lay.

Not that Neuvillette was staying still. He was shaking, back arched. His claws scraped up to dig into Wriothesley’s hips, fingers flexed away so it was the fingerpads and not the claws that dug into his skin. Right-- this wasn’t Neuvillette’s first time with a human, even if Wriothesley had only use his hands on the dragon last time. Emboldened by this, Wriothesley pulled back up faster, and came down harder. This time, Neuvillette shifted his grip, concentrating, and as Wriothesley fell, what seemed like every ridge inside Neuvillette dragged against his prostate. Wriothesley yelled, bowing over at the rapid, repeated pressure, only not falling off of him to sprawl over Neuvillette’s chest because Neuvillette was still holding his hips when he came down.

“Oh,” Wriothesley said, “Oh, that’s-- M-Monsieur--”

Neuvillette froze in place, starting to panic again. “If that’ssss too much--”

“That is not what I said,” Wriothesley said, his voice still a low growl, but he could already feel his voice growing ragged. “H-hold on tight.”

He rose back up, letting Neuvillette help him come back down again just like that. The push against his sweet spot was almost too much, but he had his pride, and he needed to see Neuvillette how he was now, holding onto him for dear life, squirming under him as Wriothesley started up at a brutal pace. The Sovereign Dragon of Water’s mouth hung open, teeth bared, eyes glazed over. Wriothesley wasn’t exactly getting used to the constant, intense push against every part of him, but he had his bearings enough to do more.

He curled over again, resting on his elbows-- he moaned in approval when Neuvillette seemed to adjust automatically to keep hitting him in that spot that had him on the edge. Wriothesley shifted to kiss and bite at his shoulders.

“You said-- no marks-- above your clothes,” he panted. Neuvillette whimpered, nodding quickly, and Wriothesley went back to work, wreathing Neuvillette’s collarbones in bruises he knew the judicial robes would safely cover. The scales seemed a lot cause, but the skin around them marked up easy-- how pretty, to fill in the gaps between scales with his mouth. Prettier still were the downright animalistic moans Neuvillette gave him for his efforts, the way he was starting to throb and shudder even inside him.

“Getting-- hah-- close?” Wriothesley gasped into Neuvillette’s chest. Neuvillette hissed, his claws scraping against Wriothesley’s back.

“Look-- at you--” Wriothesley dropped his hips down especially hard, “Can you even-- still talk?”

“I—” Neuvillette tried, “I-- c-can-- I’m closssse--” the hissing got in the way of every word, every letter.

Wriothesley clenched, barely holding on himself. “S-say my name-- like this,” he said, “Say it in-- that voice.”

“Wrissss-- Wriosss---” Neuvillette tried. Wriothesley laughed, softly, breathless.

“Come on, you can do it, Monsieur--”

Neuvillette arched up to press to him, so needy, so desperate. “Pleassse, Wriothhhhhesssssley--”

Wriothesley kissed him. Both of them were too clumsy now to do it well, so it was almost more a grinding of teeth and lips and tongue. But it felt good, to be pressed together, chests sliding against each other, hips still canting furiously as Wriothesley fucked himself harder onto Neuvillette. He sucked Neuvillette’s whole tongue into his mouth, buried his hands into his hair, moaning for him, or maybe he just couldn’t hold his voice back.

And then he found Neuvillette’s rhinophores with both hands and tugged on the antennae, hard, and that was enough to push the dragon over the edge.

Light flashed down the rhinophores as Neuvillette tensed up, swelling somehow even larger inside Wriothesley, as he twisted and trashed under him, and the first gush of cum burst inside him from both of his cocks. It poured both deeper into Wriothesley and gushed out of him, with how much there was, and with how crammed full Wriothesley was already, Wriothesley felt himself tighten, felt his hips clench, but he was going to hold on, he was going to watch Neuvillette’s face while he filled him with everything he had--

Neuvillette roared, the way he had that day in his office, louder even, voice splintered and rough from all the screaming he’d done already, and kept forcing up into him. One of his hands left Wriothesley’s back and pushed between them, wet and slick with-- oh, Archons, probably Wriothesley’s blood, and not just everything gushing out over Neuvillette’s hips-- and took Wriothesley’s untouched cock in his grip, pulling on him, making the heat coursing through him rise into a fever, too close--

Wriothesley only held on until he felt the first of the eggs push its way past the rim of his anus through Neuvillete’s cocks. He fell forwards and was coming, hard, even before the first egg was pushed into him, screaming, barely together enough to keep tugging on Neuvillette’s rhinophores as a lifeline. Another egg pushed into him, then another, in an incomprehensible torrent, and Wriothesley was so full that Neuvillette’s dicks were being pushed out. He was still shuddering in his own aftershocks, Neuvillette still tugging on him, when Wriothesley felt the last of the eggs enter him, and Neuvillette finally fell back, defeated.

“Ssssee? Lessss-- I mean-- fewer than-- lassssst time,” Neuvillette gasped, his voice rough. Wriothesley hoped they had time to drink more of that Dragonspine water. How long had it been? He couldn’t have guessed.

“Was it really?” Wriothesley asked-- he winced, as his voice was even worse, and it hurt to talk. “It felt-- like more--”

He pulled off of Neuvillette with a wince and collapsed back onto him. “How f-fast do they grow back in, if you still had that many?”

“… That wassss… ssssstill a lot,” Neuvillette mumbled, the admission painting his face blue, his gills and the tips of his ears downright cerulean. “I… I think… my body isssss… overcorrecting.”

Wriothesley smiled, lopsided, sloppy. “Maybe. Forty years, right.”

“Thhhhhirty-eight. Sssssshift a little.”

He pushed Wriothesley weakly to slide half off him so he could breathe. Wriothesley looked down and saw his cocks retreating, slowly being pulled back up into Neuvillette’s body.

“I do want to see the balls next time,” he yawned, his head heavy. When he looked up to flash a teasing smile to whatever disgruntled half-expression Neuvillette would give him, he saw that out the window, it was still raining.

“Oh,” he said. “I… are you… okay?”

Neuvillette nodded, the movement minute, through his obvious exhaustion. “I am… jussssst... overwhelmed. I think.”

“That’s right,” Wriothesley said, remembering, “You said you cried last time too.”

“… I did. I have been… I…”

He frowned, looking up at the ceiling.

“I am… poor at understanding emotions,” he said, his voice steadier, but the words unsure. “Humans’, Melusines’… or my own. I do not even always know why I am crying. Just that I… feel.”

Wriothesley nodded. He curled up closer, idly tracing his fingers over the scales along his side. “Do you know what you feel now?”

Neuvillette had to think about it. Both of them turned their heads to look at the rain, contemplating.

“I believe…” Neuvillette hummed. “I am not in distress. I am comfortable. My body feels heavy, but only… in that I wish to rest here like this.”

Wroithesley held himself back from asking Neuvillette if he always had to take inventory of his feelings like this. It seemed to be a struggle for him.

“Hmm.” Neuvillette curled a hand over the small of Wriothesley’s back. The claws seem to have retracted, or otherwise, he must be petting him very lightly.

And he turned back to him, with the faintest of of smiles, hair askew, his chest covered in marks from Wriothesley’s teeth.

“I believe… I am happy.”

Chapter Text

Neuvillette lay in bed with Wriothesley for a long while. The slow rise and fall of Wriothesley’s chest, his relaxed heartbeat, had Neuvillette breathing in time, nearly falling asleep. The arm that Wriothesley rested on was starting to go numb, but Neuvillette was sure that was nothing in comparison to how sore the Duke must feel.

Giving him both hemipenes at the same time was, according to his biology textbook, “inadvisable”. Wriothesley was not the first of Neuvillette’s lovers to try taking them at the same time, but he was certainly the first to not immediately regret it. Maybe it was because he was so large, for a human, but Neuvillette had a feeling it had more to do with determination.

He’d certainly looked good that way. Neuvillette had a feeling he’d be remembering that image at inappropriate moments for awhile. This rude, overly familiar human who Lady Furina had trusted with holding back the Primordial Sea had constantly occupied his thoughts for the last week, and the events of tonight were not going to help.

And he’d said next time again. He’d been thoroughly battered by Neuvillette inside and out and he still said next time. Could Neuvillette take a lover again? Not a sweetheart, necessarily, of course. Two sexual encounters did not equate to romance. Wriothesley, like the lovers before him, would never entirely understand him. But neither did Lady Egeria, Elynas, Lady Furina, or any of the Melusines. He still felt close with all of them. Maybe this… strange friendship, or whatever else it was, could continue, if Wriothesley would have him.

“Mmhhhg,” Wroithesley grumbled. “… Time is it? You had a dinner… thing?”

Neuvillette sat up and peered at the clock. “I have a little over an hour. We should clean up and see if your clothes are dry.”

“Right.” Wriothesley sat up, wincing, and turned over to get out of the bed. When he started to stand, though, his legs gave under him, and he started to fall. Neuvillette lurched and just barely managed to catch him, pulling him onto his lap.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. This was an unnecessary question, of course, because Wriothesley’s back and thighs were littered with red scratch lines, but Wriothesley shook his head.

“Just fucked out,” he said. “I think… me waiting up in your bed during your meeting is not a joke anymore.”

How many years had it been, since Neuvillette came back to this apartment and had someone waiting for him? Longer than thirty-eight.

(Girard, the Electro Vision holder who Neuvillette had accidentally injured, had not wished for his success in the Gardes to be seen as benefits from nepotism, and never slept over.)

“I agree,” said Neuvillette, “I can bring you back a meal if you do not wish me to send Sedene up.”

Wriothesley slumped against Neuvillette’s shoulder. “Just bring something, thanks, I don’t want your secretary to see me like this. Doesn’t have to be fancy.”

Neuvillette pushed back the thought of kissing his forehead. “I will find something. But we should still wash. May I carry you?”

“… If you can?” Wriothesley said vaguely. “I am not a small guy.”

“It will be no trouble.” Neuvillette adjusted his grip on Wriothesley and stood, carrying him with an arm under his knees, the way he carried Melusines who were too sleepy to walk home after the Opera. He needed to adjust his grip again for balance, but he had no problem carrying Wriothesley into the bathroom and helping him wipe down under the shower spray. Wriothesley insisted on evacuating the eggs inside him in private, even though he had to call Neuvillette back in to carry him back to bed and help him into one of Neuvillette’s larger nightshirts.

He looked sweet, skin rosy from the shower, still exhausted and hazy, wearing Neuvillette’s pajamas. Neuvillette allowed himself the luxury of tucking him into the blankets before going back to finish his toilette in a hurry. He banished the water from his hair, pulled his robes back on, and got into the elevator down to the seventh floor.

Neuvillette returned with leftovers from his dinner with the Fontaine Transit Authority to find Wriothesley still in his bed, dozing. He opened an eye lazily when he heard the door close.

“Ten points for bedside manner,” Wriothesley yawned. “Is that soup?”

“Consomme. I have, also, potatoes, a side of beef, and some roast vegetables.” Neuvillette set the plates of food down at the bedside and moved to help Wriothesley sit up.

“I’m not that tired,” Wriothesley muttered, but he still let Neuvillette reposition him. He looked out to the darkened window, again, and Neuvillette felt guilt clench at his chest. Was Wriothesley still worried for him?

“The weather cleared up,” Neuvillette said, “Please, eat.”

Wriothesley would not let Neuvillette feed him when he tried. “You tired out my legs, not my arms,” he huffed, taking the spoon from him. “You don’t have to do that.”

It seemed Neuvillette could not dote on him the way he wanted to. Perhaps he was “hovering.” He had been chastised for it before, admittedly mostly by Lady Furina when she was upset.

(“Stop doing things for me! I am not a child!”)

Still, it did not sit well with him to just… sit there, watching Wriothesley struggled. “Shall I prepare some tea?” he offered.

Wriothesley’s eyes lit up. “A strong black tea would go well with this, if you have one.”

“I will see what I can find.” Neuvillette did drink tea, not only water, when he had underslept, or when it was offered. The selection in his pantry were mostly floral varieties, but he knew that the administrative floors below had a stock of tea leaves and coffee beans by a mekanical kettle. Neuvillette could visit the Marachausee Phantom’s main office quickly without disturbing anyone, as most of their number were Melusines who would not be uncomfortable with his presence or ask intrusive questions.

And this was what brought Neuvillette to the fifth floor to be swarmed by Melusines cheerfully asking him intrusive questions.

“Good evening, Monsieur Neuvillette!”

“Good evening, Monsieur Neuvillette! It rained quite awhile today...”

“Good evening, Monsieur Neuvillette! How was your two o’clock appointment?”

The pod of Melusines erupted into giggles. Either they saw the traces of Wriothesley’s spend on him, even after his shower, or Sedene had told them about his two o’clock meeting with Wriothesley. He brushed past their questions as if there were humans present, even though there were none in sight. Neuvillette had to practically wade through the group of chorusing voices and bright encouragements to reach the kitchenette.

“… Tea, Monsieur Neuvillette?” piped up Sedene, who should not have been on this floor, offering out a tin labeled Dawn Winery Breakfast Blend. “Your two o’clock seemed to prefer this kind, on previous visits…”

Neuvillette took the entire tin and went briskly back into the elevator, following by a choir of adorable, bell-like laughs. He returned to his rooms, started a kettle, and located his tea set, which he rarely had occasion to use.

“Is that the centennial Liffey’s Regional Tea Company anniversary set?” Wriothesley said immediately, when Neuvillette brought the tray in. “I’ve only seen it in photographs!”

Wriothesley happily inspected his teacup while the pot brewed. It was silvered on the edges and some of the details, embossed with stylized tidalga and lumitoiles. Liffey’s Teas was in its third century, so Neuvillette realized the tea set he’d bought for his fondness of sea jellies and starfish must be an antique now. He went to fetch the rest of the set, including the spoons, to show Wriothesley. This delighted him to no end. He only put the sugar bowl down when the stopwatch chimed and the tea was poured.

“I ought to bring you more strange components for this,” Wriothesley joked, smiling. “Or maybe for the rest.”

“Just for this,” Neuvillette said firmly, “Do not exchange components for sexual favors.”

“Is that an actual rule?” Wriothesley asked. He closed his eyes and breathed in the steam from his cup. “Oh, Dawn Breakfast. You really do have good taste.”

Neuvillette poured himself a cup and tried it, using the same amount of milk Wroithesley had added to his. It was… bracing?

“The flavor of this is very… deep,” Neuvillette supplied.

“Smokey, even,” Wriothesley agreed, “They use Flaming Flower pistils in their roasting process. That’s what makes it bolder than a Springvale Breakfast blend.”

“Should I have opened a jug of Cider Lake for this?” Neuvillette asked, recalling their earlier conversation about pairing teas to appropriate water.

“No, the Dawn Winery is on a different lake, which has softer water.”

“I see.”

Wriothesley yawned again, and they were quiet for awhile. Neuvillette knew many people found sudden silences uncomfortable, especially, for some reason, around him. But Wriothesley showed no such signs of discomfort.

“Could I send an express postage letter?” Wriothesley asked. “Sigewinne should know I’ll be home in the morning instead of tonight. I don’t really feel up to walking down the stairs into Meropide right now.”

“Certainly.” Neuvillette fetched him a paper and pen. Curious, he glanced over Wriothesley’s shoulder as he wrote.

Dear Sigewinne, I will be home tomorrow morning. I can’t walk because your dad fucked me too hard and

Neuvillette grabbed Wriothesley’s wrist. “No.”

He ignored the self-pleased look the Duke gave him and handed him another sheet of stationary.

Nurse Sigewinne, my business in the city ran over, and I will be sleeping there. I will see you in the morning for our usual inventory review as scheduled.

Neuvillette gave him an envelope. “That is better. I will go and post this.”

Wriothesley blew him a kiss over his teacup. “Hurry back, Monsieur.”

A Gestionnaire in the elevator down to the posting office asked Neuvillette why his face was so blue.

The next morning, Neuvillette woke earlier than usual, with an unfamiliar weight settled over him. He grunted and turned to see what it was, only to find that one of Wriothesley’s arms and one of his legs were slung over him.

“Good morning, Monsieur,” Wriothesley said, pulling him close against his chest. Neuvillette chose not to question the warmth that spread through his whole body and turned to face him.

“You need to return today, do you not?” he asked. “Are you fit to walk now?”

“Hmm.” Wriothesley wiggled the leg that lay over Neuvillette. “Probably. Help me up anyway.”

It was a trap Neuvillette should have seen coming. Neuvillette stood and leaned down towards Wriothesley, whose arms were outstretched. Instead of hanging off of Neuvillette to be picked up, Wriothesley pulled Neuvillette down on top of him and kissed him. He smelled of last night’s tea and Neuvillette’s bath soap. Wriothesley’s demanding mouth, the grin Neuvillette could feel on his lips, the tongue that reached to tangle with his, were all irresistible, and Neuvillette found himself sinking back down into the bed before he even realized what he was doing. Strong arms held Neuvillette fast, and Wriothesley’s voice was still rough from the night before when he moaned, rolling his body up into him.

“We-- both-- have work-- this morning,” Neuvillette reminded him, despite the fact that he had wound his legs with Wriothesley’s at some point and seemed to be grinding back down on him. He could feel his cocks starting to press out from his vent already. “We do not have time--”

“– For what we did yesterday, sure,” Wriothesley agreed. His hands smoothed down Neuvillette’s back until could find the swell of his ass and squeeze. “But don’t we still need to take a bath?”

Neuvillette groaned, dropping his head onto Wriothesley’s shoulder. He looked over to the clock. “We-- have work-- my first appointment is in only two hours--”

“Mmm, and mine is in three.” Wriothesley kept kneading at him, unbothered. “But it might be awhile before we’re both free at the same time again. Which means you’ll fill back up with eggs, which makes the bath ‘risky’. Right?”

“… That is what I said…” Neuvillette admitted. Wriothesley knew far too well what he was doing with him. His hands felt so good, so sure. It was unfair.

“So if our next encounter has a shorter time limit, that means it will be even longer until you can take me in the water, unless we do this right now. Am I wrong, Monsieur?” Wriothesley sat up and kissed under Neuvillette’s chin, dragging his tongue down his neck.

“You are… not wrong, Your Grace…” Neuvillette said, shivering. “But still… you need to be able to walk…”

“So don’t give me both your dicks this time, and do one, then the other, like you said you normally would?”

Neuvillette hissed at the thought. He thought of Wriothesley, how he’d looked dripping with rainwater. He imagined sinking into him, floating in warm water, feeling the heat in every direction. Perhaps if they were in the bath, gravity would be less punishing for both of them. If he held off, Neuvillette could switch which one of his cocks he used in Wriothesley before he came, and the encounter could last much, much longer...

Wriothesely bit down on his collarbone. The smile into the hollow of Neuvillette’s neck meant he knew he had won.

“You never picked me up,” he said innocently.

Neuvillette hauled him up into his arms and hurried to the bath. He placed Wriothesley in the tub-- gingerly, as he still seemed a bit sensitive-- and started the tap.

“Feel free to adjust the temperature, if this is too hot,” he said, climbing in after him.

“The water never gets too hot in Meropide even if I add hot stones or a whole boiling kettle,” said Wriothesley. “If I get a little scalded, that’s great. I’m sore all over anyway, for some reason.”

Neuvillette shook his head as he stepped out of his pajamas. “You are insatiable, Your Grace.”

“Maybe. You’re going along with it, though.”

Neuvillette climbed into the tub after him. He did not miss Wriothesley’s eyes going immediately between Neuvillette’s legs, where his hemipenes were still sliding out into the air, several of the attached flukes already hanging against his legs. Wriothesley himself was half-hard, and Neuvillette’s mouth almost went dry for a moment when he saw his cock twitch in interest, just from looking at him.

“If you get right in me, you’ll slide out, and it’ll open me up more as we go, right?” Wriothesley said. “I’m still pretty stretched from last night. Come here.”

He slung a leg over the side of the tub. It was quite deep, built for Neuvillette to be able to float in entirely submerged, so this action left Wriothesley entirely exposed. He did still look somewhat ready-- it would be strange if he were not, from just how far he’d pushed him yesterday. But despite Wriothesley’s bravado, the rim of his anus still looked painfully red and puffy.

“Test it first,” Neuvillette said, narrowing his eyes.

“You just want to see me finger myself again,” Wriothesley taunted. But he did as he was asked, hitching his leg higher to slide a wet finger in. He worked it back and forth, slowly, a soft moan falling from his lips. He did look good this way, preparing himself for him, his cock swelling up, a flush rising in his chest.

But the water was filling up around them in the bath, starting to obscure what Wriothesley was doing. This would not do.

“My turn,” said Neuvillette, taking Wriothesley’s wrist in hand.

“I did not see you sand down your claws,” Wriothesley said suspiciously, though he let Neuvillette pull his hand away.

Neuvillette’s tongue flicked out, tasting the air. The scents of the treated water of the taps, the soaps lining the counter, and Wriothesley’s arousal filled his senses.

“I know,” he said.

He ducked his face into the water. It wasn’t quite high enough to cover his whole head, so he heard Wriothesley’s surprised moan loud and clear when he pressed his mouth in to replace Wriothesley’s finger. He suckled at the rim of his entrance, kissing it apologetically. It really did seem like he was sore.

Neuvillette was not going to deny Wriothesley’s request for more, however, and so he pressed his tongue into Wriothesley in a long, slow slide. There wasn’t too much resistance from that much, so he curled it, pressing against Wriothesley in careful, rippling motions, massaging him further open. Wriothesley’s thighs jumped and he started to slide forwards in the water. Neuvillette hooked his hands under his knees to hold him in place, licking in deeper, gulping up water to breathe through his gills as he lapped at him. The water rose over Neuvillette’s ears, but Wriothesley showed his appreciation other ways even if his voice was muffled and barely audible over the splashes of the bath filling. He ground his hips down against Neuvillette’s mouth, clenching around him. Neuvillette took his time, making sure to be thorough. He didn’t want Wriothesley to be hurt, after all. They both had work to do later.

When he deemed Wriothesley ready enough, Neuvillette resurfaced, water pouring from his gills as his lungs were filled with air, instead, once again. Wriothesley was gripping the edge of the bathtub with both hands, panting. He was fully hard, now, dripping into the water, his erection angrily red against his toned stomach.

“If you kept going much longer, you wouldn’t have had the chance to get into me,” he said, breathless.

“Of coursssse,” Neuvillette sighed, the hiss creeping into his voice, “You musst be tired after yesssterday.”

Wriothesley frowned. “I’m not that tired. Why, are you?”

Neuvillette did not rise to the taunt this time. “I sssslept quite well, Your Grace. The best I have in a long time.”

He turned off the tap and slid forwards in the water, which had risen to their chests by this point. “Are you ready, now? I will understand if you do not wish to kiss, after that.”

Wriothesley took a hand off the edge of the bathtub and reached for him. “Normally, I’d agree with you, but that tongue…”

Neuvillette’s two-chambered heart fluttered. He really did like it. Maybe that was obvious, the way Wriothesley had-- literally-- thrown himself onto him, but the enthusiasm, the enthusiasm for him as he was, being desired because of these traits instead of in spite of them, was so new for him, and he could not get used to it.

“I could sssscrub my mouth out, if it makesss you feel better.” He picked up a bar of soap.

Wriothesley laughed. “No, don’t do that, that will taste worse. It’s morning and we both have to brush our teeth anyway.”

“Very well.” Neuvillette put the soap down and waded over on his hands to hang over him. With the gurgling of the bath filling gone, his breathing seemed very loud, as he hovered above Wriothesley, drinking the sight of him in.

They locked eyes for a long moment. And then he was on him, pressing jaw to hips together, the water splashing around them. Wriothesley slung both arms around Neuvillette to keep his head above the water, and Neuvillette slid against him, trapping Wriothesley’s cock between both of his. The friction of its rigid shape against his lengths had him shaking already, his hands scrabbling for purchase against the ceramic bathtub. He braced himself against it by his elbows and kissed Wriothesley, hard, still frotting against him, cocks sliding further and further out.

“Desperate,” Wriothesley teased, as if Neuvillette could not feel him throb want between him, “Come on.”

“Yesss—” Neuvillete grabbed the leg Wriothesley still had hanging off the side of the tub and hitched it higher, hooking it over his shoulder instead. He lined up the dick on the same side and guided it, carefully, into him. Just as it had the last night, the head slid in easily, but the first of the flukes caught against Wriothesley and made for a more difficult push.

But Wriothesley was expecting it, this time, and he only moaned as he pressed up to take it, encouraging Neuvillette on. He sunk forwards, and each subsequent fluke made its way in, with little more than soft gasps from below as each of them was accepted. Soon, Neuvillette made his way all the way in, until their hips were pressed together, Neuvillette’s other cock resting against Wriothesley’s. Neuvillette gasped, mouthing at Wriothesley’s neck, trying to give him time to adjust.

Wriothesley kissed the corner of Neuvillette’s jaw, adjusting his grip to hold on tighter. “You worry too much, Monsieur,” he said, “I can take it.”

Neuvillette nodded, but before he could pull back again, Wriothesley added, “Balls?” with a hopeful lilt to his voice.

“Thissss isss a fixation for you?” Neuvillette groaned. Still, he concentrated, and let his testicles slip out of his vent. In his experience, they were more liable to get in the way than anything else.

“Fixation is a strong word,” Wriothesley said. He rocked his hips, slightly, which rubbed his own testicles against Neuvillette’s, with how they were nestled currently together. He licked his lips, moaning softly. “Call it the icing on the cake… okay. You can move now.”

Neuvillette did not need to be told twice. He pulled his hips most of the way back, dragging the right cock out of him, each fluke catching at his hole, the left cock sliding against Wriothesley’s. He thrust back in, almost gently, not going too harsh, enjoying the wet slide against and into him. The hot bath, the event hotter, delicious squeeze inside Wriothesley, the weightless, floating feeling, all of it was perfect, all of it drove him forwards. When their hips met again, Neuvillette pulled back out, with a long, sighing hiss. He took up lazily rolling into Wriothesley, and came back down to kiss him again, stroking his hair, biting his lips. Wriothesley’s hands found their way to Neuvillette’s back, tracing his scales curiously, arching to keep their bellies pressed together, to rub against him.

The water sunk into Neuvillette’s skin, caressing him. In the places where the skin was more delicate, more porous, it was absorbed, swelling up--

Wriothesley gasped, tugging at Neuvillette’s hair. “Are you-- getting-- bigger?”

Neuvillette paused, seated entirely inside him. He had forgotten this was not usual for humans.

“Your ssssskin changes when it’s sssaturated too,” he said, defensively, “Ssssuch as your fingers wrinkling and--”

“This is not the same thing!” Wriothesley whined. “You should have told me yesterday!”

Neuvillette froze. Of course. Wriothesley was sore enough already. He should have covered this in their discussion, but this fact had not been in his book when he reviewed it, so it had entirely slipped his mind.

“Sorry, Your Grace,” Neuvillette said. “You are right. I should have mentioned it. If you need time to adjust again-- I believe this is as big as it will get in this temperature--”

Wriothesley yanked his hair harder than the first time. “If you stop right now, I am flipping us over. That is a threat. I will take my time and make you late to Court.”

“It’s not court, it’s a meeting with--”

He growled in frustration and pulled on one of Neuvillette’s rhinophores. Sensation, pure sensation, overloaded Neuvillette’s system. Everything he felt was turned to its extreme, Wriothesley’s rough hand on his antenna, Wriothesley pressed against him and around him, even the gentle embrace of the bath, everything was so much. Neuvillette moaned, brokenly, pulsing inside Wriothesley. He was too close, too soon--

Wriothesley let go.

“Now fuck me.”

Neuvillette hissed and drove forwards. He turned Wriothesley sideways, yanked his leg higher, and thrust in much deeper. Wriothesley was folded in half under him, now, crowded against the wall of the bath, the water sloshing loud around them, spilling over the sides, as Wriothesley moaned his approval. Neuvillette knew how to pound into him so that each of the flukes of his right cock hit his prostate mercilessly every time-- this was why he had turned him to his side-- making him tense up, tighter, tighter, gasping under him. Every time Neuvillette slammed home, their balls slapped together sharply, and it stung, but it felt good, but Neuvillette was too far gone now to care either way. If he had any hopes of dominating or punishing Wriothesley by picking up this pace, they were forgotten now-- and hopeless. Wriothesley was slamming up to meet him every time, trading blow for blow, seemingly tireless, even as his breathing grew more ragged and his moans louder. He bit at the scales on Neuvillette’s shoulder, scratched at his waist, using him and the wall behind him for leverage, and it was all rushing up to Neuvillette, the churning water against his skin, the low, insistent voice below him, Wriothesley’s blunt teeth, Wriothesley’s dull nails, Wriothesley on him and tight around him and hot against him--

Neuvillette heard the echo of the wail he made when he came before he heard the noise itself or realized he was at his climax. He crashed Wriothesley into the tub wall and filled him, in a sudden rush, tensing as he emptied himself out. He shuddered, still crying out, as he stayed locked against him, thrusting only shallowly, unwilling to leave from inside him any more than that. Neuvillette clung to Wriothesley’s shoulders as it stopped and the world drew somewhat back into focus. He felt heavy, even in the water. Maybe he could even sleep, if it weren’t for the ache of his other cock, still hard and weeping thick white fluid into the bathwater, practically ignored. Wriothesley’s length beside it did not look any better off, pulsing in time, Neuvillette realized, with the heartbeat he could hear as he hung off of Wriothesley’s chest.

“That’s one,” Wriothesley panted. “I don’t think we’re doing the other one like that.”

He reached down between them and ran a finger over Neuvillette’s unattended left cock, making him whine and shiver from even that much stimulation.

“Even if you can come twice in a row, you’re sensitive like I would be after,” Wriothesley panted. “… Hold on, if you came--”

He reached further down and traced a finger over Neuvillette’s balls. Even that contact made him whimper. “Do they both connect or does one fill the other--”

“--Sssssstop that,” Neuvillette begged, “Hurtsss, I’ll put them away--”

“Oh, we can’t have that, you just took them out for me,” Wriothesley chuckled. He pulled both his hands over the water and held them up, fingers splayed. “I’ll be nice. I promise”

Neuvillette shook his head. “Your Graccce, you’re torturing me.”

“I promise!” Wriothesley said again. “Plus, I got the answer--”

“Wriothhhhessssley--”

“– They were the same size as each other, so that means they both empty at the same time.”

Neuvillette pulled himself up enough to glare. Wriothesley only beamed down at him, as if he was not clearly painfully hard, as if his Cyro-infused breaths weren’t fogging up in the steam-filled bathroom, as if he was not grinding his hips up in little circles, pushing at his limits.

“Don’t pout at me. Neither of us are done, right?”

… Neuvillette nodded.

“I’ll turn us over.”

Neuvillette found himself pressed against the tub wall, the way Wriothesley just had been. Wriothesley straddled his lap, taking Neuvillette into his hand to find it and press it to his hole.

“Like this?” Wriothesley murmured. He ground down, biting his lip.

Neuvillette nodded, frantic, not knowing how Wriothesley could hold on like this when he was so desperate even after coming once. “Pleassse—”

That was all Wriothesley needed. He sat down on him, easily, already used to the shape of him on the other side.

“Oh-- Monsieur-- you are dangerous for me,” Wriothesley groaned, his belly flexing as he dragged himself back up. The short break made Neuvillette less tender, enough to continue, and in the water, gravity was impeded and Wriothesley could not force himself down as fast as he had last night.

“Y-your Graccce. Wriothhhesssley—” Neuvillette whimpered. It was embarrassing to hear himself trip up on his name, but Wriothesley had liked it so much as to ask for it. He wanted--

“Yes-- Monsieur?” Wriothesley dropped down, grinding on him sinfully, cock sliding over Neuvillette’s belly, balls catching against the rim of his vent.

He let out a long, gravelly moan, but he soldiered on. He wanted--

“M-my name-- Ssssay it--”

“That’s hardly fair, your name is so long.”

Neuvillette growled, eyes flashing. “WRIOTHHHHESSSSLEY.”

At least his name had more hard consonants!

“Ohhh, Monsieur… Monsieur, I s-see your point. M… Mons-- Neuvi--”

Neuvillette writhed against the wall of the tub. He was so close, already, again, stuffed inside Wriothesley, pinned under his weight, his empty ovary clenching like if it tried hard enough, it could fill him to bursting full of eggs that were not there.

“Neu--vi--llette,” Wriothesley managed, his tongue clumsy, breath heavy, “Neu… Neuvillette, fuck, Neuvillette, touch me--”

The plea wracked through Neuvillette like a ripple through the water, like whalesong guiding his hands. He dug his claws into Wriothesley’s backside with one hand to hold him in place, and grabbed his cock with the other, tugging it fast, his hand fisted tight so the talons dug into Neuvillette’s palm instead of any part of Wriothesley.

“Wriossssth---”

Neuvillette erupted into Wriothesley a second time with no other warning. Wriothesley had control of their pace again, with Neuvillette distracted, and he speared himself onto him once, twice, three times, down onto Neuvillette and back up into his clenched hand, and then sat on him, hard, pulsing inside, spilling over them both into the bath, with Neuvillette still pouring into him. He ground onto him a moment longer, squeezing the last of Neuvillette out of him, and then the two were still.

There was quiet for a few minutes, save for the water lapping against the sides of the tub while the waves calmed, Wriothesley catching his breath and Neuvillette hissing softly. His left hemipene retracted back in to join his right, followed by the testes.

“Wri… Wrio… Your Grace,” Neuvillette said, “I’m sorry… can you ssstill walk?”

Wriothesley grumbled. He raised his hips up a little. “In a minute. I didn’t overdo it this time. Promise.”

Neuvillette hummed. “I… will drain the tub.”

He reached blindly for the stopper in the very clouded bathwater.

“Should I be grossed out, with all that floating around us,” Wriothesley yawned, apparently too tired to really have an opinion. “I feel like it was worth it.”

Neuvillette snorted softly. “You get usssed to it. I alssso virtually only touch myself in the bath, so I suppose I don’t think much of it anymore.”

Wriothesley groaned, hiding his face in Neuvillette’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me these things after we’re done fucking. Now I’m stuck with that picture and have nothing to do about it.”

Neuvillette found himself turning to kiss the top of his head. “I suppose, though, that you have something to think about in the bath, if you claim you think of me already.”

Wriothesley glared up at him traitorously. “You bounce back fast.”

Neuvillette sighed, rubbing Wriothesley’s back. “I will be sore for a long while and will need an especially strong tea today. I am putting my mind back together because it appears to be quarter-to-seven, which means I must be present at a Coastline Beautification Council meeting in an hour in order to have my papers in order.”

“Take the Dawn Breakfast double-brewed with a fried egg over a slice of ham and toast,” Wriothesley said. “Actually-- I’ll brew it, I need the stretch.”

He stood up, unsteady. “Shower first.”

Neuvillette leaned back and allowed himself to admire Wriothesley naked, scratched up, with rivulets of filthy water running off of him. He needed something to think about in the bath too.

And then he stood, rolling his shoulders, putting his composure back together. “Yes, we should really wash.”

Neuvillette helped Wriothesley, who was still walking a bit gingerly, into the shower, and washed him off as he had the last night. This time, Wriothesley insisted on washing his hair, which Neuvillette only permitted once he pulled his rhinophores out of the way.

“It’s like you don’t trust me,” Wriothesley snickered.

“Trust is not the issue. We do not have the time,” Neuvillette reminded him. They toweled off, Neuvillette pulling the water off himself easily but unable to do that as thoroughly for someone else. Wriothesley put his own clothes back on-- they had eventually dripped dry-- they had tea, and they both headed back into the world. They had to go in opposite directions as soon as they reached the Palais Mermonia’s front steps.

“Once again,” Neuvillette said, “Thank you for meeting with me like this. I will write you to inform you of my schedule.”

He wasn’t sure if Wriothesley wanted to be known publicly as his lover, and would not push that onto him if he did not wish it. Not if it meant this thing between them would end sooner than otherwise.

Wriothesley’s usual grin was sloppy and lopsided. “Of course, Monsieur. I will try to remember my umbrella next time.”

He winked, turned on his heels, and was gone. In the sky, the sun was shining, not a cloud in sight.

The Melusine Gardes on patrol looked at Wriothesley curiously. The Melusine who chaperoned the Aquabus line to Erinnyes would not stop turning her head towards him. The Melusines standing guard in front of the Opera Epiclese all knew too. They all waved at him, giggling to each other.

Wriothesley felt far too good right now to be embarrassed by all of that. Physically, yes, his whole lower body was sore, he was pretty sure he wasn’t entirely cleaned out, he had puncture wounds in his ass-- he was gifting that man an industrial grade nail file-- and he had twisted a leg while riding Neuvillette to Celestia and back, which meant he had a lot of prescribed stretches and probably some antibiotics coming his way once his Head Nurse got a look at him.

But otherwise? Wriothesley was on top of the world, even as he reached the security-locked stairs that led to the security-locked elevator to go deep, deep under the world, under the water, back to the Fortress of Meropide. He smiled at the window into the shallows that was the last look of sunlight the inmates got to see before they began their sentences, and wondered if it had always been so pretty.

It had been awhile since he’d had any sex. That was to be expected, with how busy he was and how he was generally viewed. People in the city who found out who he was tended to shy away. People in Meropide were employees or prisoners-- and despite some rumors going around, no amount of Credit Coupons would get him into bed with anyone in either of those categories.

It had been a long time since Wriothesley had any sex, but it had been even longer since he’d really gotten fucked. It wasn’t that he was going to be sore for days-- though he did like that-- and it wasn’t because Neuvillette was especially good in bed-- though, in Wriothesley’s opinion, he definitely was.

It was that current that flowed between them when they came together, pulling Wriothesley along. That thing between them that had Wriothesley rearrange his whole work week to come back to him, without a second thought. The way he got excited with him, making that iron facade crack, an ancient, dangerous creature giving him control and trusting him so completely, giving him so much, taking just as much out of him in turn.

And it felt good to be in charge, in a place he was trusted, but the stakes were not so life-and-death.

His everyday life was a tightrope act. Finances were always stretched tight for Meropide no matter how they rebalanced the budget, even when they got more funding. Wriothesley had a lot of people depending on him and there was always something that needed fixed. Beyond keeping his staff and prisoners safe, well-fed, and reasonably happy, he was guarding an enormous Remurian device, which looked like a pressure valve, and probably held back the Ancient Primordial Sea. Not even Lady Furina and Monsieur Neuvillette were entirely sure that was what it was. He was trying to build a boat to evacuate all his people-- and possibly the entire population of Fontaine-- onto, before the sluice gates in the forbidden zone failed and everyone in the Fortress, prisoner and staff alike, dissolved into seafoam and were gone forever.

It kept Wriothesley up, some nights, rehashing his evacuation plans for whatever stage of construction the boat was in at the time. He’d tried developing a drinking habit for the stress, but all that got him was hangovers, on top of the stress. There were times Wriothesley looked at the meter over that valve and wondered if it measured his patience before he cracked.

Sigewinne had found a closet full of empty bottles and lectured Wriothesley about appropriate forms of stress relief. She made him read some books. He found better ways to cope. He got more into his teas rather than just enjoying his morning cup the way he normally had. He read detective novels and other serials. He occasionally had casual sex when he made it into the city. He still drank sometimes, but with Clorinde or Sigewinne there. All of those things let Wriothesley shift the weight of his responsibilities from one shoulder to the other and made it more bearable.

But being with Neuvillette, he seemed to almost forget that weight entirely, and picking it back up again after didn’t seem so hard. Maybe “time with loved ones” in his copy of Handling Stress From A Management Position meant something more like this than drinking with his work friends. Neuvillette was ranked too high above Wriothesley to count as a work friend, but he was not really dealing with him as Fontaine’s Chief Justice when one of them was begging in the other’s lap. And after… well, they were both so tired, Wriothesley didn’t have a choice but to relax.

Wriothesley stepped into his office and checked the memos on this desk, brushed his teeth in the sink, and then headed towards his meeting.

“Inventory Review” was coded language. The inventory they spoke about in these meetings was whatever was behind those sluice and under that door-- probably, they suspected, the Ancient Primordial sea.

The water around Meropide’s base on the seafloor had been changing. The salinity would shift, or the temperature, and there would be days where no animals were seen around it. Wriothesley had installed twice as many searchlights as had been there previous, to keep away any curious civilian diver who wandered too close harvesting lumitoiles. If it really was Primordial Seawater leaking into the ocean around Meropide, it was better to be overly cautious than dead.

Wriothesley made his way down the steps into the forbidden zone and down the hall to their meeting room. He stopped moving when he heard the scampering of tiny little feet.

“Your Grace!” Sigewinne ran around him and skidded to a stop. “How was your business in town? Did you have a nice time? Did you both remember to pee after--”

Wriothesley leaned down and slapped a hand over Sigewinne’s mouth. She squeaked.

“Yes. Your dad fucked my brains out until I couldn’t walk, and I promise we both went to the bathroom after.”

“Good job. And congratulations!”

“Please do not ask be about this until the meeting is over. Or, preferably, ever at all.”

“I can’t ask nothing,” Sigewinne huffed, scampering to keep up as Wriothesley started walking again, “Your steps are unbalanced! You’re injured.”

“I got patched up and just need some painkillers. Come on, we have a meeting, I woke up early to make it back on time for this.”

Sigewinne gave him a distrusting look.

“If you woke up early just for that, then why do you look like you took a bath in--”

“Sigewinne. After the meeting.”

“It’s all over you! And it’s fresh!”

“Sigewinne.”

“Lovely weather we’ve been having,” Lady Furina said, poking at her cake with her fork. She wasn’t eating it, just pushing it around. “It rained all day, and then it’s been sunny, sunny, sunny. It’s still Spring. I hope the crops will be all right…”

She looked up at Neuvillette, pouting, trying to pry an answer out of him. She had not been informed about his tryst with Wriothesley, as the Melusines’ secrecy excluded even her. She was the Hydro Archon, but she was not a Melusine.

Neuvillette sighed, weary from her antics already, when today’s trials did not begin until the evening. “I do not, in fact, control all of the weather. I am sure that you know that. Are you suggesting I attend the opera while they are showing a tragedy?”

“Sure, if it will help!” Furina stamped her feet, rattling the tea table. “Whatever has you in such a good mood lately, it is very uncharacteristic and it will throw us all off balance. What if your cheerfulness causes you to judge someone too lightly, and a guilty person walks free?”

“That will never happen,” said Neuvillette, with surety.

The Hydro Archon crossed her arms. “Ridiculous.”

It was ridiculous. Neuvillette had not seen Duke Wriothesley in nine days. He oversaw grave cases concerning embezzlement, theft, and murder, nearly every day. He put up with Furina’s whims nearly every hour the sun was up. The newspapers spoke of a terrible revolutionary war breaking out in Inazuma after a group of refugees from Yashirori Island managed to escape to Liyue on a pirate ship. The only good thing Neuvillette could point to, other than his new… rapport with Wriothesley, was…

“Adventurers from the Guild have spotted a creature resembling Monstadt’s East Wind circling over the ruins of Decabrian’s Tower,” Neuvillette recalled.

“… Stormterror Dvalin is what has you in such a good mood?” Furina glared, suspicious. “I was not aware the two of you were acquainted. Have you ever been so far east of Fontaine?”

“I have only left Fontaine twice in this entire life,” Neuvillette said smoothly. “Once for Schneznaya, and once for Sumeru. Both times were during the Cataclysm.”

“That is what I thought,” Furina said. She stabbed her cake moodily. “I know you have a friend in Liyue who sends you letters via Adeptus postage.”

“That was one letter, delivered by a yaksha,” Neuvillette corrected. “And no. I have never crossed paths with Dvalin, or exchanged messages. Recent reports suggest that he was suffering from Abyssal wounds after the Cataclysm while he was presumed dead, and that the recent purification of his soul bodes well for other regions or beings affected by the aftershocks of the war. The sight of Dvalin flying over Old Monstadt every few weeks is regarded as a sign of hope.”

Furina thought this over. “So that makes… three living dragons? Not counting the Vishaps and other creatures.”

“Three that you and I know of,” Neuvillette said. “Remember, no one saw the Dendro Dragon fall.”

“No one saw him for centuries before the Cataclysm, and that took out four Archons. If he was alive then, he’s surely gone now.”

She nibbled at her cake, sufficiently distracted to stop asking Neuvillette personal questions, now that she had a mystery to turn over in her mind. “Do you intend to visit Monstadt, then? To say hello.”

Neuvillette blinked. “I would have to be gone a very long time. I would not be able to protect you if something happened, which I cannot allow.”

“… Oh.” Furina smiled brightly. “So. Do you think Morax will lend you his Yaksha to send a letter, then?”

“I… am not in contact with Morax, Lady Furina.”

“Oh. I thought you’d sent a letter back.”

“You left,” Zhongli repeated, rubbing his eyes with his hands, “Right away?”

“Yes. After I delivered the letter, like you asked,” Xiao insisted, “I returned to my post at Wangshu Inn immediately.”

“Did you consider that he may have wished to pen a return letter?”

“… Couldn’t he have sent his own servants to do such a thing? There was a return address on the letter, wasn’t there?”

“… Alatus.”

“Yes?”

“What would happen, if I penned such a letter, with a return address, and it fell out of your hands?”

“… That would be a major threat to your safety, now that you have no Gnosis, and are living privately among the humans. Why are you only asking me about this months after you sent the first letter?”

“... Alatus.”

“Yes?”

“Leave.”

Xiao flew out, the shutters clattering after him.

Zhongli thought about sending another letter. Perhaps Xiao could formally apologize while he was delivering it. He needed the practice.

But Zhongli had settled down well enough. Soon, he would have accrued a few vacation days with the funeral parlor, and he could take an Aquabus out of Chenyu Vale to--

“Xiansheng?” the door to Zhongli’s room slid open, just a crack. One blue eye blinked at him. “You aren’t seeing other boys when I’m right here, are you?”

Childe-- well, Tartaglia-- well, Ajax-- padded into the room, still wearing Zhongli’s favorite silk robe and nothing else, as he’d left him four hours ago when Zhongli finally tired him out. The robe slipped down his shoulder, revealing a line of hickeys from being ravished by Zhongli’s human form (four hours ago) and large tooth marks from the last time he’d held him down in draconic form (six hours ago).

“You know I still have Xiao see to errands for me from time to time,” Zhongli sighed, holding out an arm for him.

Ajax sat happily in Zhongli’s lap. “It sounded like he was in trouble,” he snickered. “Lost a letter or something?”

Hmm.

If Ajax was here, and Zhongli had such post lying around, even for long enough for Zhongli to call for Xiao, such news could make its way to the Tsaritsa in no time at all. Ajax had offhandedly mentioned seeing a dragon, “a little one, frozen in a big block of ice,” in the vast frozen gardens of the Tsaritsa’s palace.

This was almost certainly the young reincarnated Cryo Dragon, dead or in such deep stasis that she may as well be. For his safety, contacting, let alone visiting, the Sovereign Dragon of Water would have to wait while Ajax was staying with him. And, if things went how Zhongli hoped, Ajax would be staying with him for a long, long time.

“If you can still mock my subordinates, it seems I haven’t punished you enough,” Zhongli said mildly, standing with Ajax still in his arms. “We are going back to bed until you learn your lesson.”

“Is that so? You’ll have to fight me for it again, Xiansheng. Really conquer me. Put a mere mortal in his place--” Ajax squeaked as he was thrown back onto the bed.

Retired life certainly was sweet. He needed to find Ajax a pair of dragon-phoenix chopsticks.

Neuvillette received a package from the Fortress of Meropide. He peeled back the brown paper to reveal a metal file, the kind that steelworkers used to sand down the edges of their products, and a note:

To Chief Justice Neuvillette:

Because I doubt the regular one in my bathroom will be any help to you.

Neuvillette shook his head, holding back a laugh. He went out and purchased an umbrella to send down to the Fortress of Meropide.

To Duke Wriothesley:

In case I see you after Court again next time.

He received, a few days later, a tin of caviar.

Saw these and thought of you. Are you coming down at the end of the month to check the door under my office, as usual?

Neuvillette sent back three industrial-grade metal files, including the one Wriothesley had sent him, absolutely worn down until they were almost flat pieces of steel. One of them was snapped in half.

See you next week.

Chapter Text

Wriothesley looked at the three destroyed metal files on his desk and decided that if he was going to be fingered within an inch of his life, he had better start drinking his milkshakes and eating big breakfasts with lots of proteins like a good boy.

Wriothesley needed to be in better shape in general, really, if this was going to be a recurring thing. He would like to be able to go to bed with his…

With… his…

He’d like to be able to go to bed with Neuvillette without being that beat up after, even though it was definitely worth it. Whatever they were to each other.

It had also occurred to Wriothesley that in all of the books-- children’s storybooks, ancient history books, the photographs from Rex Lapis’s death announcement, reports on recent sightings of Monstadt’s East Wind-- dragons tended to be very large creatures. If Neuvillette, with his at least minimal ability to shapeshift, was hiding a body like that, Wriothesley needed to be able to at least lift it to convince Neuvillette he’d survive the encounter.

What Wriothesley was sure of was that Neuvillette had a lot of secrets. Some of them, Wriothesley didn’t need to know-- Neuvillette was still his superior officer and some information was kept confidential for a reason. But Neuvillette held other secrets, ones he held as the Hydro Dragon, that he seemed to only hold onto for fear of being hurt. Wriothesley wanted Neuvillette to trust him with more of it. He wanted to know more about him. And when he saw Neuvillette try to deflect when he asked him about the rain, when Neuvillette started to apologize about his own body, when he saw Neuvillette struggle with understanding his own feelings… Wriothesley had wanted to protect him.

It was a realization he wasn’t sure how to handle. Firstly, on the practical side of things: Wriothesley and Neuvillette both needed to be at their work virtually all of the time, and their offices were not close by. He could not be there for him every time it rained. Deep underwater in the metal walls of Meropide, Wriothesley had no way of even knowing when Neuvillette cried.

Secondly: how could one man protect a dragon? If there was something powerful enough it left Neuvillette scared, what chance would one vision-holder already whittling himself down through battle scars and overwork have of actually helping?

It was a line of thinking that bothered Wriothesley in his idle moments. Blessedly, by Lady Furina’s grace, he did not have very many idle moments. He was awake working twenty hours some days keeping his Fortress together. And when he tripped over a pile of defunct Subdetection Unit robots he wasn’t done fixing, he realized his personal quarters were filthy and in need of a deep clean before Neuvillette’s visit. He spent hours out of the next few days getting machine oil, engine grease, metal filings, old paperwork, bones from barbecue ribs he’d finished in bed, and a variety of other things out of his room. He ironed and put away all his clothes. He ran a fan almost as tall as he was to air the place out. He got on all fours to scrub out the bathtub he only ever showered in, hoping it was big enough to fit him and Neuvillette at the same time.

I suppose, though, that you have something to think about in the bath, if you claim you think of me already, Neuvillette had said.

The man was embarrassed about hissing when he spoke, but he had been absolutely calm when he told him he only jerked off in the tub. While Wriothesley filled the bathtub to finish rinsing it down after the scrub, wiping down the sides with a rag, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

It was a practical solution, of course. Easier to clean up-- Wriothesley had touched himself in the shower more than enough times to know that, and the bathtub probably kept the eggs all in one place to scoop up after.

How did Neuvillette do it? Did he fill the bath to handle things when he got worked up and couldn’t make it go down-- well, make those go back in? Or, when Neuvillette was stressed, did he get into the tub and tease himself out, running his hands over himself until the tips of those cocks started to show and he could take them in hand? Did he run his fingers over those frilled edges, coaxing them to fill out further? Did he ever tug himself the rest of the way out when he was impatient? Would that hurt?

Neuvillette was so delicate between his legs. Wriothesley was sure he went slow, rubbing himself with his thumbs, or maybe between his palms, keeping his fingers turned so he wouldn’t nick himself with his claws. Did Neuvillette fill the tub entirely and float in it, closing his eyes and letting go, while he slowly worked himself into a frenzy? Did the water hide all of those noises Neuvillette made, or did they just carry differently? Could Neuvillette hear himself cry out--

Wriothesley leaned over to run the rag over the wall behind the tub and gasped when his clothed erection was pressed against the tub’s outer side. When had he gotten this hard?

He sucked in a breath and tried to focus. He needed to finish cleaning so he could get some sleep before tomorrow’s routine inspection. He only had three more days before Neuvillette was here and he needed this place spotless to make up for how much smaller his apartment was. He had to rearrange his teas and figure out which one Neuvillette would prefer. He hadn’t got the chance to peek at which ones he usually drank. He also had actual work to get through.

He stood so he could continue wiping down the wall tiles without grinding on his bathtub. The sound of the tub filling, however, could only remind him of Neuvillette holding him down in the tub to lick him open, tongue pressing far too deep, lapping at his prostate like it was candy--

Wriothesley realized he was gripping the wall, panting, instead of cleaning it. This was not fair. He needed to get it out of his system.

Grumbling, Wriothesley threw the washcloth aside, pulled off his tie, his waistcoat, shirt, belts, pants, briefs, and climbed into the tub. He sunk into the warm water with a sigh, letting himself float a moment, before he took himself in hand and started to tug slowly.

Was this how Neuvillette did it? Letting the water lend his hand enough wet friction, gently pulling on his cocks? Did he jerk off one, then the other, or did he do both at the same time? Which felt better for him? Wriothesley liked picturing Neuvillette desperate, curled over himself in the water, fucking into both of his fists. Then, after he came the first time, too far gone to care he was breathing in his own cum in the water, pushing it through his gills, he’d pull on himself until he was spawning eggs, milking every last one of them out of himself while he roared in wild abandon, hissing out Wriothhhesssley--

Wriothesley came back to his senses in a daze, with one hand still gripping his softening cock and two of his fingers buried inside him to the knuckle. The bath was still filling and almost about to spill over, and there was a thick film of Wriothesley’s spend floating on the surface.

He drained the tub, showered off, and scrubbed the whole thing down again, hands shaking.

Neuvillette did not, in fact, masturbate often. Handling the mess afterwards was no small feat for him, and until recently, he had believed that it was not easy for him to be sufficiently aroused unless he made a point to work himself up for it when he was having trouble sleeping or needed the distraction.

(He had figured out long ago that doing it when he was lonely only ever made him feel worse afterwards.)

These days, however… he was having dreams again, the kind he had as an adolescent. Dreams without true coherency, of a laughing mouth, gentle hands, being held, rocking together with someone along with the ebb and flow of the waves. The image of the light flickering underwater, in the shallows on a sunny day. He’d wake sweating, hemipenes partially out, sticky between his legs. The first time, he had a meeting too early to do anything about it, and he’d gingerly coaxed himself back into his vent with his hands, the swollen flukes sore inside him until he managed to calm down. The second time, he woke up to the feeling of himself sliding out against his sheets, and it was still dark outside. Blearily, he stumbled into the bath and stroked himself as the water filled, thinking if he could keep his hair dry and make it quick, he’d be able to go back to sleep and be almost decently rested for his first morning appointment. To hurry himself along, he summoned the image of Wriothesley sitting on him in this very bathtub, how he looked dripping water mixed with Neuvillette’s seed when he stood back up.

When Neuvillette came down from his orgasm, though, he stared at the raft of eggs floating in the swirling water and felt like it was a waste.

He could have saved those eggs for Wriothesley--

Neuvillette slapped a hand his face, groaning. The closeness he was enjoying with the Duke of Meropide was not a good reason to be fertilizing eggs. It was an urge of his body, his lizard brain, his born nature, but it was not a practical urge. Nor had he ever wished, in the past, to bring little dragons into the world, especially when the water levels were rising and threatening to swallow Fontaine whole.

Wouldn’t his and Wriothesley’s children be half-dragons, anyway? Neuvillette glared up at the ceiling, trying to remember what his textbook said. He was thinking of it often enough recently that he was sorely tempted to bring it out of his cave to have it on hand in this apartment.

The dreams continued every few nights. They seemed to turn more towards Wriothesley in specific, of him swimming across a dark lake towards him, of Wriothesley grappling with him in the sand.

Despite his scornful reaction to the thought that he was saving his eggs for Wriothesley… Neuvillette did not touch himself when he woke up after any of these dreams, no matter how frustrated he was. He told himself it was because he didn’t have the time.

When Neuvillette came to the entrance down into Meropide, Wriothesley was there waiting for him. He had the umbrella Neuvillette had gifted him tucked under his arm and was looking up at the clear sky.

“You did not need to come and escort me,” Neuvillette called. “I know the way in.”

Wriothesley shrugged, going to hold the door open for him. “Monsieur Neuvillette, you mistake me for someone much more polite,” he joked, “I figured this was a good excuse to get a little fresh air.”

They started down the spiral staircase to the elevator.

“I seem to remember an umbrella only on days I don’t need one. How has the weather been outside?” Wriothesley said, conversationally, like it was really the weather he was asking about.

Neuvillette kept his eyes trained ahead of him. There were other people here. “It has showered a bit less than is expected for the spring.”

“I see,” Wriothesley hummed, “And, while I ask about things outside, how have court proceedings been?”

“The same as usual. There are things that are resolved well, and things that the audience may find upsetting.”

Perhaps, if more people other than Furina and the Melusines knew what it meant for it to rain, Neuvillette would try to learn some way not to cry, as most humans seemed to do. But as it was, Neuvillette found it easier to let the weather happen and go about his day.

Wriothesley sped up down the last steps to be the one to hit the button for the elevator. “I see. Same as it always is, then? The weather.”

“… Yes. Except that is has been raining slightly less frequently, as I said.”

“That’s good.”

The elevator chimed before it opened. The Gardes stationed outside it nodded respectfully as Wriothesley and Neuvillette entered. The doors closed, and they were alone.

Wriothesley turned to him and grinned. “Glad you’re doing well. And thanks for the umbrella.”

Neuvillette relaxed, slightly, remembering to tilt the corners of his mouth and smile too. “Thank you for the caviar.”

“I think I’ll be thanking you for that later today?” Wriothesley stepped in close, standing right before him, their chests almost brushing. The look he gave him was too knowing. Neuvillette felt his stomach tighten.

“… I should have the time to return your gift,” he said. “I… have tickets for an evening show that Lady Furina wanted to see, but I left the rest of the afternoon open. I did not know how long this meeting would take.”

“Is that what it was,” Wriothesley murmured.

Neuvillette swallowed. “That is… what I explained to Lady Furina when I told her I would not be joining her for teatime. What is… on your schedule for the day, Your Grace?”

“You know,” Wriothesley said, tapping his chin in thought, “I seem to have rearranged things a bit. After this meeting, you see, I thought I might want a bath, and I have nothing else planned until tomorrow. But it does occur to me-- what is your schedule tomorrow?”

“I have an inspection of the floodgates on the city walls at seven, after which I planned to review case files until lunch, which I will take with Lady Furina, and then court proceedings from then until, judging by this case in particular-- after dark.”

“Sounds like you better get home quick if you want any rest before tonight, then,” Wriothesley said. “I could walk you back before then. If I can still walk.”

Neuvillette felt heat pulse between his legs. His vent was starting to open up, and if he didn’t calm down, his cocks would be coming up for air. “Your Grace, please,” he whispered, “It would be-- inconvenient for me to-- slip out of my vent in the elevator.”

“Would it?” Wriothesley leaned closer, until his voice brushed hot against the exposed part of Neuvillette’s neck. “This is a pretty long elevator ride. And there’s no stops on the way, so you have me all to yourself.”

Neuvillette steeled himself and took a step back. “I-- thought we should discuss something before the meeting.”

“Did you? Again? Or are you changing the subject.”

“No, I think it is along the same subject,” Neuvillette said, bringing his composure back together, “We are going into a work meeting, after which we intend to…”

“We intend to have sex,” Wriothesley said helpfully.

“Yes. The Melusines all more or less know, which you said you are all right with.”

“Except for my Head Nurse asking about my sex life, which she does no matter who it’s with, yeah.” Wriothesley shrugged. “What are you getting at?”

Neuvillette found himself tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. “I would like to know how private you would prefer to keep this affair. I am willing to do my best to hide it to the best of my ability, as I have been. We are both very public figures and I do not wish to cause you unnecessary trouble.”

It had been on the forefront of his mind, really, since he’d… stretched the truth about how long this meeting would take to Lady Furina.

“I also know that association with me can be inconvenient,” he added.

Something in Wriothesley seemed to fall, like a souffle that had been overdone. “I don’t see what we’ve been doing as inconvenient. Monsieur--”

Neuvillette barreled along. He needed to say all of this before the elevator reached the bottom floor and they went into their meeting with Sigewinne and the other people on this task force. “It is all right. You do not need to try and spare my feelings-- if our meetings are known about, people will approach you in attempt to get to me. Even someone with your status would have problems.”

Wriothesley frowned, crossing his arms. “No, that makes sense. You’re right.”

“So, before we go below your office, how will we act around the others?” Neuvillette pressed.

“… Business as usual is the smart way to go,” Wriothesley said. “I don’t know, though. If someone asks, I don’t know if it’s worth it to lie and get caught later.”

He looked at him, eyes narrowed. Was he angry? “And it’s not that I’m ashamed of what we’re doing together, so don’t get that idea in your head.”

Neuvillette flinched. “Did I seem like I thought that?” Had his expression changed?

“No—” Wriothesley started towards him again, closing the distance. “I’ve just been around you a little bit lately. I mean-- am I wrong?”

Neuvillette… turned his head away, stormclouds rolling through his mind. Wriothesley had not guessed incorrectly. It would not be the first time someone Neuvillette slept with didn’t want anyone to know. If Wriothesley thought what they were doing was shameful, or if he thought his career would be called into question, or that even if Wriothesley could accommodate how different he way, Neuvillette was not someone he could introduce as his--

“Monsieur. Look at me.” Wriothesley put his hands on his face and pulled down to face him. “Look at me.”

Neuvillette let his eyes slide to meet Wriothesley’s.

The shorter man was scowling. “I like what we’ve been doing and if this broke out and caused a scandal, you are a beloved public figure and I am an ex-convict who decided to become Duke of the Convicts because the position suited him. People do not like me up there. If I was worried about someone’s reputation, it would be yours, not mine.”

Neuvillette nodded, slowly, his cheeks squished under Wriothesley’s hands.

“Okay?” Wriothesley pressed.

“… Yes. ‘Okay,’” Neuvillette answered.

Wriothesley patted his cheeks and let go. “Now. Do you want to tell anyone?”

Neuvillette blinked. He had not been expecting Wriothesley to ask that. No one ever had.

“I am not sure who I would tell, other than the Melusines, and perhaps their late father, but I may answer truthfully if Lady Furina wants to know my whereabouts,” he decided.

Wriothesley nodded. “That’s fine with me. You said she might figure it out anyway, so I already prepared myself for that possibility.” He paused. “How does she usually treat… people you’re seeing? Should I be worried?”

Neuvillette shook his head. “She will ignore you, unless the weather is bothering her, and she cannot think of another reason it might be.”

“… All right.” Wriothesley took Neuvillette’s hands. “Is that all? I wanted to check something.”

“That is… all I wished to discuss before the meeting. Let me think.” Neuvillette watched Wriothesley play with the edges of his gloves. “If you were asking, earlier, to sleep in my apartments, I suppose… Your Grace, what are you doing?”

Wriothesley was had pulled Neuvillette’s right-hand glove halfway off him. “I said I wanted to check something. Here, hold this.”

He pulled the glove off and tucked it into Neuvillette’s breast pocket. With Neuvillette’s hand in both of his, Wriothesley held it up to his eye level. His fingers, rough against Neuvillette’s soft ones, skimmed up to run over his claws. The claws had, a few nights ago, been sanded down to remove all sharpness, until they were short, rounded things. It had taken all three of those metal files to trim all of them. That had not been a joke or a play at flirtation.

“This looks good, Monsieur.” Wriothesley smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners, and kissed the tips of his fingers. Neuvillette smiled back, and was about to ask him again about sleeping over when Wriothesley sucked two of his fingers into his mouth.

“Your Gr--”

Wriothesley hummed, questioningly, his tongue lathing over him. He smirked, pulling Neuvillette’s hand in further, until Neuvillette could feel the back of his throat when he swallowed. He stared, holding his hand as still as possible, unable to shake off the idea that this was dangerous, that Wriothesley would be hurt--

Wriothesley moaned, his eyes fluttering shut, licking around and between his fingers, bobbing his head slightly back, then forwards.

“Your Gracccce,” Neuvillette tried again, “I said I shouldn’t ssslip out-- The meeting--”

Wriothesley pulled off of him with an impossibly loud, wet sucking sound. He untucked his tie, wiped Neuvillette’s fingers off, tucked it back in, then pulled the glove back out of Neuvillette’s pocket to help him put it back on.

“I know, we have to get going,” he said, wiping drool off his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “I just wanted to check your work. Looks like you did just fine.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open.

Neuvillette was going to be clenching his thighs together under the table the whole meeting to hold himself in.

Wriothesley sat between Sigewinne and Neuvillette, across the table from Champion Duelist Clorinde and Fontaine Research Institute researchers Jurieu and Lourvine. The researchers went over the recent chemical changes in the water, and Clorinde reported her findings in the wildlife from her dives around the Fortress’s base.

“There are other things that could cause this,” Neuvillette noted, “The rising coastline could change the water temperature overall, for instance.

“We considered that,” Lourvine explained, “But even if glacial snowmelt from Schneznaya was more rapid than is being reported, that would only explain the temperature, not the increase in acidity and salt content.”

“And the animals migrating could be related to the Local Legend monsters waking back up again recently,” Jurieu added.

“Yes,” Neuvillette said, “In the past, when those things arose, it interrupted the habitats they chose as their hunting grounds. But in this case, none are near this fortress, so we go back to the conclusion that it could be Primordial Seawater leaking into the ocean around it.”

“Would you be able to know how to test for if we got you a sample?” asked Sigewinne.

“That will not be necessary. I can investigate it, myself, in the near future,” Neuvillette said.

“With all due respect, Chief Justice,” said Clorinde, “I do not find it worth the risk to send someone of your position down to collect the sample.”

“I agree,” said Lourvine, “With what reports suggest would happen to someone if they one came into contact with too high a concentration--”

“—That was extrapolation for contact with a human,” Jurieau corrected her. “Did it not even occur to you that Monsieur Neuvillette might know his own limits?”

Neuvillette, next to Wriothesley, tensed. Perhaps the reminder of their differences did not sit well with him. “You are correct. I will know if I need to retreat long before I am in real danger, and I know what differences I may need to look for in the currents around the Fortress.”

Wriothesley refilled Neuvillette’s teacup. He’d brewed this pot for everyone-- Liffey’s Teas’ marcotte-chamomile blend, known for its calming effect, picked for the stressful subject of the meeting-- but he also thought Neuvillette might like it, since he had one of Liffeys’ collectible dishware sets. It made him smile to see Neuvillette enjoying it.

He turned back to the group to go back to their discussion and caught Clorinde eyeing him with suspicion.

… Well, whatever that was about, she’d surely bring it up later. Wriothesley went back to listening to Lourvine’s report on the sensors placed in the water around Meropide. Every once in awhile, he glanced to Neuvillette, to make see if he had anything to add, to see if his teacup was empty.

The six of them went to examine the pressure valve at the very bottom of the Forbidden Zone as they always did after these meetings, checked to see that all the readings had not changed recently, and went their separate ways. Sigewinne, Jurieu, and Lourvine headed out once they were finished, so Sigewinne could return to the infirmary and the researchers could go back to pretending to be prisoners. Clorinde paused in the doorway out of Wriothesley’s office. Often, at this point, Wriothesley would try and dog her into having a cup of tea with him, prying a casual conversation out of her. It was easier if he offered her whiskey, but it was only one in the afternoon.

And he really needed her to leave right now.

“I was going to ask Monsieur Neuvillette to try a tea blend I recently acquired,” he said apologetically. “I know you’re busy, so I’ll let you go this time.”

Clorinde gave him that searching look again. “… All right. I’ll see you next time.”

The door to Wriothesley’s office locked automatically after her. No one would be able to disturb them without Sigewinne’s key. Sigewinne definitely knew what they were doing in here, so if she barged in anyway, it would be because there was a genuine crisis on their hands.

Wriothesley turned, slowly, towards Neuvillette. “How are you feeling, Monsieur? You seemed a bit tense during our discussion.”

Neuvillette’s eyes narrowed, but he raised his hands and began to remove his gloves. “I seem, for some reason, to have been played with just before a very important meeting. One that concerned national security. I then felt the need, for some reason, to be on high alert, as my assailant was sitting next to me and making eyes at me.”

Wriothesley grinned. “Oh, was I? I thought I was only looking to you when you spoke. You were the focus of that meeting, Monsieur.”

“You kept ssssmiling. You knew how I felt,” Neuvillette accused.

Wriothesley took his hands in his and kissed the knuckles, one by one. Even the backs of Neuvillette’s hands were soft…

“I was really smiling so much? Have you considered that maybe, I was just happy to see you?”

Neuvillette’s cheeks flushed a brilliant blue, his mouth parting slightly in a silent oh.

And with the gap in his defenses, Wriothesley started to lick his fingers. He caught Neuvillette’s gaze and held it, sucking on those smoothed claws, the pads of his fingers, lapped at the space between forefinger and thumb. Neuvillette wore gloves all day, to hide his claws and-- mostly-- prevent them from scratching anything. Wriothesley had a hunch that he wasn’t too used to direct contact.

It seemed he’d guessed right, because all it took was swallowing his fingers down his throat again for Neuvillette to be unable to help himself. He took his hand away-- Wriothesley made a point of chasing it, to suckle a fingertip one last time to see how Neuvillette shuddered-- and Wriothesley was hauled up, bodily, by his suspenders, for a kiss. Neuvillette claimed his mouth with a hunger, digging dangerous teeth into his tongue, just barely gently enough that he didn’t bleed. The two stumbled against the wall, and when Wriothesley arched up against Neuvillette, trying to swing a leg over his hips, Neuvillette hauled him up the stairs, past the office landing and up into where he worked.

Wriothesley was about to pull off of Neuvillette’s tongue to explain that his rooms were just above the office space when he was dropped onto his desk.

“Oh,” he laughed, softly, “Look at that, Monsieur. Here we are again.”

Neuvillette leaned over him, blunted claws digging in his hips. “Was thissss not what you were angling for?” he said, brow furrowed. “Coming onto me in your office? Again?”

“My room’s above this. But…” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the bottle of oil he’d stashed there this morning. “I’m not against a repeat performance. Remember the last time we were in here...?”

There was an immediate scramble for each other’s clothes. Neuvillette tossed his coat and cravat over a chair while Wriothesley undid all the clasps to his gauntlets. He started shoving paperwork stacked on the desk into drawers haphazardly, impeded by Neuvillette crowding in to undress him. Neuvillette had trouble with the buttons, unused to his claws being so short, and it took longer for Neuvillette to get Wriothesley naked than it did for Wriothesley to clear the desk.

Neuvillette unbuttoned his pants but did not remove them, still wearing his boots and dress blouse, and picked up the oil.

Wriothesley watched him, bare on his own desk and sitting on a pile of his clothes. “Done this before?” he asked.

“… Yesss. With gloves on,” Neuvillette supplied. “Leather onesss. But the tongue technique is safer, and I tend to get more… resssults.”

“Oh… no complaints with the that…” Wriothesley pulled himself away from the compelling thought of Neuvillette owning a pair of leather gloves just for sex to focus on the image in front him of Neuvillette picking up the bottle of lubricant and pouring it all over his fingers, the excess dripping onto the floor. Wriothesley saw the tips of Neuvillette’s cocks starting to emerge, peeking out of the opening in his trousers.

He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Should I put a leg up?”

“As you like.”

Neuvillette came right up to the edge of the desk for another devouring kiss. He arms were thrown around him as they played at fighting each other for control, until Neuvillette’s dry hand grabbed one side of his ass to hold him open while one oiled finger circled around his anus. Wriothesley forced himself to relax and stay still as the hard, filed-down claw started to press inside. He felt the wet slide of Neuvillette’s cocks coming out and pressing further against his belly as the finger pressed deeper, shallowly moving back and forth.

“How’s thisss?” Neuvillette asked.

“Claw’s-- different,” Wriothesley grunted. “Not bad. Hard?”

“They are hard. Three filessss wasn’t an exaggeration.” The fingertip slid in further, starting to curl up, searching. Exploring.

Wriothesley nodded. He leaned his weight back onto his hands so he could try bearing back down onto the finger a little.

“What about the broken one?”

Neuvillette groaned, his tongue flicking out against Wriothesley’s neck. “I became… impatient… on the lassst few claws.”

“Like now?” Wriothesley taunted. He pressed himself up on his hands, so his stiffening cock could press against the two that were coming up for air against him. The wet slide between them had both of them biting back moans.

“Yesss-- like now, perhaps--”

Neuvillette moved the finger a bit faster. He started to kiss across Wriothesley’s neck, sucking at the skin, nipping little warnings with his teeth. Wriothesley took the second claw almost easily, the heat building up in him. The stretch when Neuvillette began to spread his fingers apart left him clinging to his shirt, silk fabric sticking to Wriothesley’s skin from his sweat. Wriothesley was hard and starting to drip, nestled between Neuvillette’s lengthening cocks, when he took the third claw.

Neuvillette started to curl his fingers up as he rocked them into him, now going at a brisk pace. He started actively looking for Wriothesley’s prostate. He’d found it fast enough with his tongue before, but it took him a few tries before he hit it with his fingers. Those hard claws, even smoothed down, pressed into Wriothesley harshly, digging into him right where he was the most sensitive.

Wriothesley spasmed, crying out. “Monsieur--”

Neuvillette stopped. “Too much--?”

“Harder.”

Neuvillette nodded and did as he was told. His claws pushed back into him, aiming for that place again, and Wriothesley ground himself back and forth in time, giving himself more, chasing the absolutely cruel shock of pleasure when those claws struck him inside. Neuvillette threw his other arm around Wriothesley’s waist and fingerfucked him harder, giving him a fourth claw, crooking up into him, smearing an absolute mess onto his belly as his cocks slid out the rest of the way.

“Monsieur-- you must be hurting for it--” Wriothesley chuckled, out of breath already. “I am. I am too, give me more--”

Neuvillette buried his hand into him until his thumb jammed against the opening and kept it from going further. He stretched his fingers out, circling cruel circles around the tender spot he’d been striking. “You-- ssssseem-- ready for me now?”

Wriothesley pushed against him, searching out more inside, arching up for more hot friction between them. “Make me come like this,” he said, “Then take me right away.”

Neuvillette’s answering moan was ravenous. He pulled his fingers nearly all the way out and slammed them back in hard. The rounded claws rolled against him fast, relentless, and Wriothesley pushed himself up to slam back down onto them, gritting his teeth as his hole was stretched as wide as Neuvillette’s fingers could go, before the torturing stab of claws inside him every time Neuvillette pushed back in. He leaned back on the arm holding him up so he could rock back onto him, pressure building fast until he came in a rush, spilling out over his and Neuvillette’s bellies, staining their cocks and his shirt. Neuvillette did not seem to notice the mess or care, only stroking Wriothesley slower, more gently, as he came down. Finally, he pulled out his hand, and cradled Wriothesley in both arms to lower him back onto the desk.

“Now I’m ready,” Wriothesley breathed. He was sensitive, but he was definitely not done.

Neuvillette moaned, nodding, and pulled away enough to take both of himself in hand to press them together and line them up. Wriothesley got a heel up onto the desk to give Neuvillette more room to push his way inside.

Four of Neuvillette’s fingers was not exactly comparable to the stretched of both his cocks. But the claws had pushed and prodded and tested Wriothesley, leaving him ready enough to take it. All for the better, because after the teasing before their security briefing, then being only able to frot against him while Wroithesley got off on his hand, Neuvillette was not especially patient. He thrust all the way inside with a long, gravelly hiss, the softer, dripping cocks almost a relief compared to his clawed fingers. Wriothesley still whined at the tender drag of those fluked ends when Neuvillette started to move. He rutted into him shallowly, but not carefully, still holding tight to Wriothesley’s waist.

“Oh, I really gave you a hard time,” Wriothesley groaned. “Didn’t I.”

Neuvillette’s head pressed against Wroithesley’s on the desk, snapping his hips in faster. “Waited-- all day--” he said, “All week--”

“Oh?” Wriothesley laughed. “Were you saving yourself for me, Monsieur?”

“Yesssss—” Neuvillette drove in harder. “Sssseemed a wassste-- when I’d ssssee you soon--”

It felt dangerous when the dragon got so cute. Wriothesley had definitely not held off touching himself in preparation for this meeting, but--

“Me too,” he murmured into Neuvillette’s ear, “I kept my hands out of myself. I knew you’d open me up, and I wanted you to do it. All the way-- mmggh--”

His dick was already stirring, sensitive as it was, pressed between their bellies and sliding in Wriothesley’s spend and the trail of slick that Neuvillette’s cocks had painted against Wriothesley’s skin.

“I was-- excited to be able to-- go harder-- without hurting you-- so I saved it all--” Neuvillette confessed, his breath hitching, “Sssaved it all for you-- Wriothhhessssley--”

Wriothesley moaned. “Saved it? Are you going to stuff me full?”

He was starting to feel good again, the loud, wet slaps of them coming together urging Wriothesley on, and he was already rocking back up onto him.

“Yessss—”

“Yes-- yes, pin-- me down. I got mine-- you can do whatever-- you want--”

These words immediately had some sort of effect on Neuvillette. His slit pupils widened, and he growled, his voice reverberating off the office’s metal walls. When the dragon pulled back his hips, almost all the way out of him, he swung back in with a filthy crack of skin on skin when their hips met. Wriothesley was pushed across his desk until his head hung off the side, and he had to crane his neck to see what was happening.

“Take it-- take it, you’re-- mine,” Neuvillette rasped, “You’ll take it-- take it all-- my sssssseed-- my eggssss-- I’ll ssssspawn in you--”

“Spawn?” Wriothesley laughed, breathless. “Are you going-- to breed me?”

“Yesssss—” Neuvillette bore down on him, throwing his weight harder into it now. “I’ll breed with you-- fill you-- you’ll carry-- you’ll lay--”

“You said that wouldn’t take?” Wriothesley teased. With how anxious he was to explain things before, if this were an actual pregnancy risk, Neuvillette would have mentioned it, and he wouldn’t have shot so many into him last time. This was just dirty talk while Neuvillette was starting to lose himself to pleasure.

Neuvillette growled in frustration. He was ramming so sharply into Wriothesley now that his backside was getting sore from the slap of Neuvillette’s scaled thighs. The way it stung after felt warm, his skin tingling.

“Do it then,” Wriothesley challenged. His voice puffed out in shaking breaths as Neuvillette railed into him. His cock swung between them, slapping against Neuvillette’s wet shirt. “Prove it. Fuck me-- full of your eggs-- I’ll take them all-- give them to me--”

Neuvillette shoved himself in to the hilt and came. Wriothesley braced himself, anticipating the now-familiar, overcome roar, the scalding torrent of Neuvillette inside him. He was not disappointed. This performance was spectacular, those useless claws bruising into his skin, Neuvillette’s head thrown back, lights pulsing down his rhinophores, the air around them even misting up. Wriothesley stared up at him, in awe.

Then Neuvillette began to move again, pushing drops of himself to slosh out as he sunk further in. Wriothesley recognized the swell of the first egg prizing him further open. He was so close now. He just needed Neuvillette to give him a little more.

“Neuvillette,” he moaned in his ear, “Give me your babies--”

Wriothesley’s knees hit the desk as he was folded in half faster than he could think. Neuvillette clutched the backs of his thighs to pin him there and the eggs started to push through his cocks. He fucked him shallowly, pushing each of them deeper, the hot, squishy eggs forced further and further into him.

“Wriothhhesssley,” Neuvillette was gasping, “Take it-- Wriothesssley, take all of it--”

“All of it,” Wriothesley groaned at the flukes rubbing inside him, “Won’t spill a drop--”

Stuck by gravity and the sheer girth of Neuvillette inside Wriothesley, though, the eggs were stuffed in far too tight. They pressed against Wriothesley in every direction, fighting to push out Neuvillette, rolling against Wriothesley’s prostate as the pressure got more, more, overwhelming fullness accented by the gentle rubbing of Neuvillette’s ruined silk shirt against his dick--

Wriothesley came with a broken howl. Folded over on his desk, he shot all over himself, still grinding up on Neuvillette while the eggs rolled inside him. Swathes of white painted Wriothesley’s belly, his chest, and his face. He could taste himself in his own mouth. Neuvillette dove down to kiss him as his hips stilled.

Wriothesley collapsed onto his desk, his head hanging over the side, gasping for air, exhausted. Neuvillette, still dazed, unfolded him and pushed them both to lie on their sides. They sat tangled together like that while they caught their breath and Neuvillette’s penises drew back into his body. Without them to plug Wriothesely full, several of the eggs fell out of him, followed by a stream of Neuvillette’s spend. Normally, Wriothesley would have been mortified, or at least embarrassed, but this, but… right now, he felt worked over everywhere, like after a good, long fight. He felt too warm and heavy and sore to care.

Wriothesely picked up his head. “So… breeding me, huh?”

Neuvillette whined, covering his face with his hands. “I do not know what came over me,” he whispered hoarsely.

Wriothesley kissed his forehead. His mouth was still sticky. “You know… next time we defile your office. And you’re cleaning all of this up. I need a hot bath before I can stand.”

The other man whimpered again, but he nodded. He picked Wriothesley up under his back and thighs to carry him to his rooms.

“Sssso many,” Neuvillette muttered to himself, staring at the eggs rolling across the office floor. “Thisss isn’t…”

“Don’t say this doesn’t usually happen, it’s happened three times now,” Wriothesley yawned. He could still feel himself dripping out, drops clinging to his thighs. “It’s fine, just… help me shower off.”

Neuvillette held him under the spray of his shower to help him clean up, then filled the bath for Wriothesley to soak. He was left alone awhile, dozing in the warm water, while Neuvillette went back to wipe up... everything in the office. When he returned, he filled the sink to scrub the worst of the stains out of his clothes, stripping naked to do his best for his poor blouse and trousers. Wriothesley idly admired the sight of Neuvillette’s back, speckled with scales half-hidden in his hair.

“Monsieur,” he called in sing-song, “You have a very pretty ass.”

Neuvillette paused. “… Thank you, your grace,” he mumbled.

“You’re bashful now?”

Wriothesley didn’t get a proper answer for that, but he could see the tips of Neuvillette’s ears flush blue from behind.

“May I come and soak with you?” Neuvillette asked instead.

Wriothesley shifted to give Neuvillette the room that he could. His bathtub was large, enough that he could lay down in it, but it had not been designed with two people in mind. They only fit side by side, chest to chest, packed in like two sardines in a tin.

“… Really is unusual,” Neuvillette murmured into Wriothesley’s neck, “For me.”

Wriothesley shrugged. He ran his fingers through the silver hair that floated along the top of the bath over both of them.

“It’s not an incredibly uncommon kink,” he offered. “Though I suppose you usually see it with men and women together? I thought it was cute.”

Neuvillette frowned. “Your Grace, you--”

“Oh, don’t tell me I’m the only one who has called you cute?” he teased.

“… No… though it has been some time since I was young.”

“Oh. The citizens of our fair country are blind. Our Chief Justice, who is the very symbol of our values, is also adorable… truly, justice may be blind, but us lucky subjects are not.”

“Your Graccce.” Neuvillette’s tongue flickering as he hissed tickled Wriothesley’s skin, like this. He chuckled and relented.

“… I have been meaning to ask,” he said, “You mentioned before a liquidity to your form. How far does it go? Do you turn all the way into a dragon like in the books? I mean. You are one.”

Neuvillette sighed. “The circumstances of my birth are… complicated,” he supplied. “Yes, I am capable of holding a such a shape, but it takes… some concentration. I was given a humanlike form for a reason.”

“For a reason?” Wriothesley nudged his leg with one of his.

Neuvillette pressed his face further into Wriothesley’s neck. Hiding. “I am not entirely sure. I do not hold the memories of the previous Hydro Dragon. Let us say my work as the Iudex is part of it.”

“Oh.” Wriothesley put an arm over him, though it took a little bit of shifting in the tight space. “I was just… curious. Perhaps I overstepped.”

“I do not mind, not really. You wish to see the dragon’s body because you have lewd intentions for it?”

He tilted his head back to look at him. If Wriothesley focused, he could see the corners of his eyes crinkle up.

A smile. He was playing with him now.

“Can’t a man have lewd intentions in his heart for someone who has fucked him three times, and also ripped up his desk once during hand stuff?” Wriothesley said, mock-offended.

“’Hand stuff,’” Neuvillette repeated, baffled, “Yes. You may see it. Sometime.”

“But not right now, because you are big to fit in this little tub,” Wriothesley said hopefully.

“Not as large as you may wish,” the dragon sighed. “I am not so old, for one of my kind. Any accurate illustrations you saw of dragons would have been of creatures that never stopped growing for millenia.”

“Still…”

“Yes, it is too big for this tub. Nearly too big for the one in my apartments, these days. But it takes… concentration, to keep it up, and is difficult to form unless I am underwater.”

It was interesting to Wriothesley that Neuvillette referred to the draconic form as if it were an outfit he put on, or even another creature. “Can I get a little taste?” he lilted.

“Insatiable,” Neuvillette sighed. “Sit up.”

Wriothesly sat up against the tile wall. Neuvillette came up with him, unwilling, it seemed, to be very far away. Wriothesley could not see what was happening, with Neuvillette’s face blocking most of his view, but he felt something heavy and covered in smooth scales slither across his legs. Neuvillette was breathing slow, holding onto him firmly, concentrating.

“… See now.”

A tail, split into flippers at the ends like a whale’s, rose up from behind Neuvillette. It was covered in Neuvillette’s scales, shimmering in varying blues. Neuvillette’s back had sprouted more scales, too, almost entirely plated with them. Wriothesley ran a finger over his back, then the end of the tail when Neuvillette offered it over.

“It takes concentration?” He asked.

“Yes… and a great deal of energy. I will be hungry after this.”

“You had quite an appetite earlier,” Wriothesley chuckled. The tail swatted weakly at his arm.

“I am putting it away now. It is too heavy out of the water,” Neuvillette grumbled. Wriothesley sat up to watch the tail shrink back into Neuvillette’s body, the extra scales sinking back into his skin.

“You are the most interesting man,” Wriothesley decided, “That I have ever slept with.”

Neuvillette frowned and opened his mouth to say something in protest, but Wriothesley continued.

“Thank you for showing me.”

Neuvillette was nothing if not impressed that Wriothesley could still walk after all of that, albeit slowly, and with many jokes about Neuvillette making an honest woman out of him. He was never going to live this down.

He hadn’t been lying when he said it was unusual for him to be producing eggs so fast. Or to be… talking like that. For him to be making so many, for him to be saying such things in the heat of the moment during sex-- it really was not like him. Or, at least, it had never been like him before.

And why had he asked Wriothesley to sleep in his rooms again when he had an opera to attend in the evening, and when both of them had work to attend to early in the next day? It had felt right at the time when he offered. Neuvillette had enjoyed sleeping with him there the last time, of course. But it seemed like he was asking something that only made things inconvenient for the both of them. Why had Wriothesley agreed?

He called for a large meal to be sent up to his rooms and ate it in his bed with Wriothesley, trays of crustaceans and roast vegetables spread out carefully over the blankets.

“You know,” Wriothesley said, reaching for the nutcracker to open another shellfish,“Some people say lobster is an aphrodisiac.”

“You are not coaxing me out of my vent for at least another three hours,” Neuvillette said, shaking his head slowly. “Likely much longer. You are not the only one who overextended yourself today.”

“Maybe if you weren’t saving entire loads in your ovary for when I can come see you?”

“… You had me on the edge of my composure for an entire meeting. It’s really your fault.”

“Oh, guilty, Monsieur. What is my sentence?”

Neuvillette took the lobster away from him. Without thinking, he bit the head off with his teeth, then crunched directly into the shell.

Wriothesley stared, mouth slightly open, cheeks dusted with red. “You should do that to me sometime.”

“No. Wriothesley. I do not have another round in me right now. Actually-- decapitate you? That is your desire?”

Wriothesley laughed, his temporary enchantment broken. “Cruel, merciless Hydro Dragon. Bite the tail off for me?”

The Duke of Meropide fell asleep after their meal, only stirring slightly when Neuvillette told him he was leaving for the opera. Furina, waiting outside his door, gave him a funny look.

“Dear Iudex, you’re here when you said you would be and not five minutes early. For you, that is late. Whatever has been with you these days?”

Neuvillette thought a moment. How much to disclose? Wriothesley had said he could say as much as he liked if it seemed correct.

“I was with someone this afternoon, and this slowed my preparations to leave,” he said.

“You are usually with someone. You had a meeting.”

“No, Lady Furina. After the meeting, I had a personal engagement, which delayed my preparations. We are not late, yet, so let us go.”

“A personal engagement? You, socializing?”

“It does happen, occasionally.”

The opera was a long one, but Wriothesley was still asleep when Neuvillette returned. Rather than disturb him, he only dressed for bed and crawled in to drift off beside him, his face pressed into the back of his shoulder.

He dreamed of floating on his back on the ocean, tail drifting behind him, wings outspread to soak up the sunlight.

Ajax was at a funeral, and Zhongli’s bed was cold. This was nothing compared to the news of the Harbinger, Signora’s, death, in the grand scheme of things, of course. But Zhongli was still slow to handle change and he had gotten so accustomed to having Ajax at his side. Ajax had promised repeatedly that he would return from Schneznaya as quickly as he could, and had left most of his things in Zhongli’s apartment rather than packing them up.

It was lonely. But perhaps it was best if he take advantage of the privacy. Zhongli picked up some stationary he’d liberated from his desk in the funeral parlor.

“There is a visitor for you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” Sedene called uselessly as the Yaksha Alatus blew into Neuvillette’s office.

The little demon looked furious. He always looked furious.

“Your honor. Mr. Neuvillette. I have another letter for you,” he spat. He glared at Neuvillette as if it were somehow his fault that Morax had sent another message for him, and that the trouble of flying to the Palais Mermonia caused Alatus severe insult.

Neuvillette blinked. “I was not expecting to see you again so soon,” he admitted. “Has something happened?”

Xiao sneered. “No. Now read the letter and let me watch you burn it before some human can see it.”

Morax had contacted Neuvillette, and it wasn’t even an emergency? What could this be for? Eagerly, Neuvillette sliced open the envelope and pulled out the letter. It was on paper stamped Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.

The Yaksha was growling, so Neuvillette read the letter quickly.

Monsieur Neuvillette,

It has come to my attention that when I sent word of my retirement from public life, I did not give you any way to contact me yourself. Alatus will give you my current address in Liyue Harbor. If you can convince him to stay put long enough to do so, perhaps by offering him some sweets, you may write back now and have him carry it to me, but future communications may need to go through the ordinary post.

The reason it has taken me so long to write you properly is that my current position is compromised. Rest assured, this the happiest security risk I have ever endured, but it means that even letters left in my personal quarters should not be framed as communication with the late Rex Lapis or with the Geo Dragon. Instead, address me Zhongli, the name I am using for my human life. I will not be able to answer sensitive questions on the subjects of Archons or Dragon Sovereigns from my current situation, but any personal questions you may have or additional questions on our physiology could be framed as a friend asking after me after I moved to the city, or perhaps about the rearing of pet lizards.

One day, we might meet without the watchful eyes of others. I am sure there are things you would like to say, or ask, but until then, take care.

Regards,
Zhongli

Nevuillette read the letter over three times, to make sure the information sunk in. Alatus was shifting his weight from foot to foot testily, scraping a jade-tipped spear across the carpet.

“Alatus,” he said, “Thank you for coming all this way. Would you like to try some biscuits from one of Lady Furina’s favorite shops?”

Alatus paused. “I know what you’re doing,” he said accusingly. “You are trying to make me lower my guard by bribing me with pastry. It will not work. My loyalty lies only with Morax, so don’t try it.”

Neuvillette was reminded immensely of Furina. He knew how to proceed.

“Of course, I would never try to sway your allegience through gifts. It is only that I recently received more biscuits than I could reasonably eat before they go stale.”

Alatus ate the biscuits. He was going through them quickly, too, so Neuvillette wrote his return letter with a fast hand. He did have a very pressing concern about his physiology, considering the past few weeks.

Hello, Mr. Zhongli,

How are you settling in to your change in career? I will admit, I never pegged you for a mortuary assistant. I thought perhaps you would go into the investment business, or perhaps join a historians’ society.

As you are more familiar with Liyue’s animal life than me, I wanted to ask you about a change in behavior I have witnessed recently in my pet Brightcrown Pigeon. She has been hungrier lately, and sleeping restlessly with an increase in clearly erotic dreams compared to the many years before. Her thoughts are wandering in her idle moments, unable to stay focused when there is not work in front of her. And she is laying eggs at an alarming rate.

None of this seemed to line up entirely with the pigeon-rearing guide you sent me. The closest thing I could find was mention that eggs could be harvested more frequently when food and shelter were well at hand, or when an especially attractive mate was presented to her. But this is nothing like the increase my pigeons experienced after the war when food was once again abundant, or times that my pigeons have had regular partners in the past. Additionally, my pigeon’s appetite only increased after her eggs began to produce more quickly, which leads me to believe that it is growing the eggs that has made her hungry, not eating more that has encouraged the eggs.

Could you advice me on what to do for her? I am worried she may be sick.

Eager to hear more from you,
Chief Justice Neuvillette

Neuvillette hurried to seal and stamp the letter as Alatus licked the last of the crumbs from his fingers. The tin of biscuits had been nearly full, and now they were all gone.

“Burn Morax’s letter,” he commanded, his head swiveling to stare Neuvillette down. “I will not allow him any safety risks that he does not command me not to see.”

Neuvillette… did not wish to burn the letter. It was comforting to see this handwriting form new words. But he made show of holding the letter in the fireplace with his tongs, until only ash remained.

Alatus snatched Neuvillette’s return letter and stormed out of the room.

“I will never get used to watching you do that,” Clorinde said, swirling her tumbler idly.

Sigewinne clacked her glass down onto the table and poured herself another full cup of brandy. She, Clorinde, and Wriothesley were sitting outside the Fortress’s cafeteria after lights out, with not another soul in sight.

“Don’t worry, I know how much is safe for me to drink! I know I look human, but a Melusine is a Melusine, which means I am much closer in taxonomy to a sea slug. My body-water content is much, much higher than yours. I can easily outdrink His Grace!”

“I think Clorinde means the part where you look like a toddler,” Wriothesley snorted. “And I would practice for our rematch all the time if you hadn’t banned me from drinking alone.”

Sigewinne beamed. “You’re too busy for that these days, Your Grace!”

Wriothesley instinctively covered his mouth behind his hand. His little office hookup with Neuvillette had been two weeks ago. Were there still Melusine-visible cum stains on his face? Could Sigewinne tell they were his and not Neuvillette’s?

“We have all been busy,” Clorinde said with a weary sigh. “And Wriothesley… you need to be careful. I don’t want you to end up like me.”

Wriothesley reached for the brandy, paused at a warning look Sigewinne gave him, and then cracked open a bottle of Fonta instead. “Like you?” he said. “I know you are one of the very archetypal pictures of a tall, beautiful, Electro-wielding woman who is so competent that she works herself to death, but I really wouldn’t worry about me.”

Clorinde shook her head. “No… you know your limits. I mean your little crush on Monsieur Neuvillette.”

Wriothesley almost dropped his soda. “What?”

“I know you too well not to notice. You were looking at him the whole briefing last week. You got his chair for him and kept refilling his tea. You even remembered how he fixed his first cup and used the exact same amount of cream each time you refilled it.”

Was that what it had looked like? Wriothesley had just wanted to be attentive. And he’d been keeping an eye on him to look for glimpses of any cracks he’d left in Neuvillette’s composure after playing with him in the elevator.

“I have a good memory for tea, Clorinde,” Wriothesley huffed, “You take yours no milk, little sugar, and you like to sulk in the back of cafes and peer at your ex through the steam.”

Clorinde half-stood, her chair screeching on the metal floor. “Navia is not my ex,” said, “I only look out for her once in awhile. We were friends. Now, I have killed her father, and we are nothing.”

“You wanted it to be more, though, that’s why you can’t leave her alone,” Wriothesley said. “Don’t worry. Like I said… I know my limits. I’m not trying to catch the moon in a basket.”

“So you do admit to carrying a torch for the Iudex?” Clorinde pressed, frantic to turn the spotlight off of herself and her pining for the Navia.

“… Is that a shock?” Wriothesley said. “Clorinde, I know you don’t prefer men, but… have you seen him? I can’t be the only one who’s glimpsed that ass through the gap in his coattails and wanted a closer look.”

“Monsieur Neuvillette has had plenty of human admirers!” Sigewinne cheered, raising her glass. “Even boyfriends in the past!”

Clorinde and Wriothesley stared at her, processing this information.

“What were the boyfriends like?” Wriothesley asked, his throat suddenly tight.

Sigewinne only smiled wider. “You should ask him yourself, Your Grace.”

Clorinde poured herself another drink. “I can’t really see the Chief Justice dating. Maybe he was different hundreds of year ago, but these days, he’s so… upright. Wriothesley… be careful. Just because I live this way doesn’t mean you have to.”

Wriothesley, about to tell Clorinde the truth, paused. There was a chance, of course, that she just wouldn’t believe him. Would Clorinde feel worse if she knew she was the only one yearning for somebody who might never look her way? Not that Wriothesley and Neuvillette were dating, exactly, but they were much closer than Clorinde was to Navia…

“I’m not going to give up just because it’s hard,” he said.

He wondered what Neuvillette’s boyfriends had been like. That man, thirty-eight years ago. Had he been a boyfriend, or someone Neuvillette just slept with?

Where did Wriothesley sit on that spectrum?

Neuvillette knew his return letter from Morax-- ah, his return letter from Mr. Zhongli of Wangsheng Funeral Parlor-- would take at least four days even if Morax wrote him back right away and sent the response through international express postage. It was much more likely to be a matter of weeks before he got his response. The fact that he did not immediately see Alatus return with a letter in his hands explaining that the excess eggs were not a sign of a life-threatening illness was good news enough for now.

He dealt with his symptoms as best as he could in the meantime. Increasing the size of his meals and finding a little more time to sleep was an easy enough adjustment to make. As for the eggs, well… they couldn’t overproduce if his ovary was full. Conserving them was a reasonable way to save his energy.

And Wriothesley didn’t seem to mind too much if Neuvillette had a lot of them to give him.

The problem was that keeping his hands off of himself wasn’t working either. More than once, Neuvillette awoke from an especially vivid, erotic dream to find himself laying in a puddle of eggs, half of them crushed from rolling onto them in his sleep. What was happening to him? He wasn’t some hundred-year-old hatchling. This was getting ridiculous. If these symptoms kept increasing, it would start to interfere with his work.

Despite Neuvillette’s rediscovered adolescence, life in the Court of Fontaine went on as usual. He continued to write letters with Wriothesley, most of them related to their schedules. He really did have a case to preside over five or six days a week, and Furina had some public function to attend that demanded his appearance most of the other days. When Neuvillette had an evening free, Wriothesley had something that needed fixing or a board meeting that couldn’t be rescheduled.

There were other things weighing on his mind. One of Lady Furina’s bodyguards kept giving him odd looks. Champion Duelist Clorinde was on the task force dealing with the Primordial Sea. Perhaps she had a question regarding his relationship to it. Neuvillette was not even sure of his connection to the Primordial Sea himself, so he hoped this was not the case.

“Is something the matter, Dame Clorinde?” Neuvillette finally asked, on the journey back from Court to the Palais Mermonia. Today’s trial had been a long and unpleasant one, and rain was hitting the road around Furina’s carriage. Neuvillette was not in the mood to deal with suspicious glances when he was trying to recover his composure.

Clorinde turned to him. Her face was…

Neuvillette did not recognize her expression. It was not one that often appeared during Court proceedings or one that was painted on for the Opera. This made it difficult for Neuvillette to determine what Clorinde was feeling.

“I am fine, Monsieur. I have only been thinking of a friend.” She turned to face the window, and Neuvillette could no longer see it to wonder what she felt.

Across the carriage from both of them, Furina scowled. “Can at least one of you please lighten up a little? Clorinde, if one of your precious few friends is worrying you, just go talk to that person. Bring them chocolate or alcohol or maybe matinee tickets. Or lend them some money! Your salary is enough.”

Clorinde turned back towards her, but Neuvillette still could not clearly see her expression from the side and her voice was muted and neutral in tone. “I am sorry to disturb you, Lady Furina. I do not think his problem is something I can solve for him, and I worry he will hurt himself trying ease it.”

Furina threw up her arms. “If he’s in love, just-- lend him some self-help books. Or use your stalking powers for good and find out some information on the person he’s pining after to give him advice, I don’t care. --Stop looking at me like that, Neuvillette.”

“It seems,” Neuvillette said, “That Clorinde’s problem is not one that can be solved so easily. Perhaps you should allow her to figure out the solution on her own, rather than haranguing her or mocking her for her skill in tracking suspects, which is one of the things she is valued for as an agent.’

Rain pelted the roof of the carriage loud enough to hear over his words.

Furina flinched. Neuvillette did not usually scold her in front of her attendants.

“… I spoke too quickly, Clorinde,” she mumbled. “I suppose I am on edge after today’s trial.”

Clorinde bowed her head. “It is all right. I think you may have given me some good advice.”

“And as for Monsieur,” Furina said, “Go eat some chocolates or drink some liquor or get yourself some matinee tickets. The trial is over. Pull yourself together.”

They sat there in the sound of the rain.

“… After an especially tense meeting when I go down into Meropide,” Clorinde supplied, “Duke Wriothesley often cajoles the task force into drinking tea together. Perhaps Monsieur could do with a hot drink and conversation.”

“Not with me. Not when he’s like this,” Furina muttered.

“Do not worry, Lady Furina, I have every intention of turning in early, and will not darken your day any longer once we arrive back at the Palais,” Neuvillette said evenly. “I will drink some water and perhaps I will be soothed.”

He turned to Clorinde. “Have you been to Meropide recently? How is His Grace?”

“The same as always, I suppose,” said Clorinde. Neuvillette still couldn’t tell what sort of face she was making at him. It was almost like she was looking into his face and… looking for something.

“So he is well?” said Neuvillette.

“Yes. He seems well.” Clorinde narrowed her eyes. Neuvillette did not know why she was staring at him so intently, but he did not like it. “He recently got his hands on some fruit preserves he has been searching after for some time. It seems that Schneznayans, with sugar so scarce in their climate, often sweeten their tea with jam, and he was unwilling to try it without getting the traditional sunsettia blend that is used in Tsaritsagrad and has Her Majesty’s stamp of approval. He purchased a fresh tin of Schneznayan Caravan and found a samovar in the secondhand market to brew it in.”

“Oh,” said Neuvillette, “That must be exciting for him. Perhaps I will send along a carafe of Schneznayan glaciermelt for him to prepare it with, if he is going so far for authenticity.”

Clorinde’s face… relaxed, into something softer.

“I am sure he will appreciate that more than you could know.”

Dear Monsieur Neuvillette,

Thank you very much for the imported water for my tea setting. With all the trouble I put to prepare every other aspect, I can’t believe it slipped my mind. My attempt at a Scheznayan tea service, as far as I can tell, was excellent, though I am sure it still pales in comparison to drinking it there. Have you been to Schneznaya? Did you have the chance to visit one of their tea shops?

How curious that you and Clorinde were discussing me without me there. I wonder what you’ve told her. She has ideas in her head right now that I am not sure how to diffuse.

As always, let me know when you have another evening free,
Wriothesley

Dear Duke Wriothesley

I have been to Scheznaya, but never in times of peace. I was offered tea boiled over a cookfire in a cave dug out of the ice while we tracked a large pack of Rifthounds through a blizzard during the Cataclysm. They did not have the jam Clorinde tells me you got your hands on, but some of the legion held sugar cubes between their teeth and drank it that way.

I remember that the snow we put into that pot, melted over to keep our bodies from freezing while we huddled together, warmed me in a way no other beverage has. Glaciermelt always takes me back to those times, the good and the bad of it. I am glad you enjoyed it.

I do have an evening off two days from now, as the trial that was originally going to run was cancelled with the charges were dropped. (The stolen goods the accused was being charged with stealing turned out to have been only misplaced by the courier. Yesterday’s Steambird evening edition covered the matter.

So, if you are available, I will be in my office until half-past six, and afterwards have the time to see you.

With sincerity,
Chief Justice Neuvillette

Dear Monsieur,

It is strange to think of you participating in the battles of the Cataclysm. I suppose I knew that you were at least that old, based on where you first appeared in my history textbooks, but I had not really thought of those implications. Some time, I would like to try that glaciermelt with you, and perhaps you can tell me more about it then.

And, unfortunately… I am sure it was in your daily report, but we have had an outbreak of Diver’s Flu in Meropide. I am not gravely ill, but I have been prescribed bedrest by Sigewinne and she is sitting in my office to threaten me with a sleep aid whenever I try to leave my room. Unfortunately, I do not think I will be well enough to come and see you on Friday.

I think she knows I’d end up getting you sick.

Deepest regrets,
Wriothesley

It had been four weeks since Neuvillette had a chance to meet Wriothesley, and the weather outside was terrible. Even the monthly briefing inside the Fortress of Meropide had been canceled, as the two Institute researchers were away assisting with the aftermath of another Institute laboratory explosion. They sent Neuvillette a very extensive scientific report of the current readings around the pressure valve instead. The carefully-prepared gap in Neuvillette’s schedule for that day was immediately filled with trials when a ring of drug smugglers trying to export Sinthe to Sumeru were caught.

The trial went quickly, enough considering how many were being tried. The evidence was fairly damning, which made for speedy convictions. But Agents of the Spina di Rosula information and advocate guild were standing outside the courthouse when Neuvillette left out the side door after the sentencing. Their leader, Navia, stood with her arms crossed, flanked by two men in dark suits.

“You could be doing a great deal more to stop the Sinthe trade,” she said. “This is a serious crisis. Did the evidence your people found in my father’s study when he was to be on trial for a murder he did not commit-- a murder we both know he did not commit-- not suffice to make some arrests?”

“… I do not handle the arrests, nor do I manage investigations, in trials where I preside as judge,” Neuvillette said. “You know this, Miss Navia. You also know that I could do very little when Callas di Rosula did not, in fact, stand trial.”

Navia’s eyes narrowed. Above her head, the sky was dark, heavy with stormclouds. “You could have called that duel off.”

“It was his right to opt for a Duel of Honor rather than a trial. It was not my place to interfere.” He turned and walked back towards the city without another word. Rain started to fall. In the reflections in the droplets, Neuvillette saw one of Navia’s attendants open a golden umbrella over her head while she collapsed against the other man.

He went to his office and put his head on his desk. How could Neuvillette manage the flow of justice when he did not know what source springs would feed into it? How could he maintain order in his own court, when humans knowingly chose the option that was worse for them, time and time again?

Someone knocked on the door. Neuvillette sat up, banishing the rain from his hair and clothes.

“Enter,” he called, sounding for all the world collected and sure of himself.

The door opened just a crack, and Wriothesley’s head poked into the room. “Monsieur Neuvillette, a moment?”

He was here. An unexpected wave of relief settled over Neuvillette. “Your Grace. I was… not expecting to see you today.”

“Right, because our usual meeting got canceled. Can I come in?”

“Please.”

Wriothesley came into the room and put his wet umbrella into the stand by the door. He pulled a thick envelope out of his jacket at he approached.

“I realized this morning that even though Jurieu and Lourvine’s report was mailed in, I could take mine up here in person, instead of posting it,” he explained. “When I got up here, it looked like the Opera Epiclese had just got out of a trial, and… I saw the rain. So I looked for you in the Courthouse, and when I couldn’t find you, there, I came here.”

He offered out the envelope. Neuvillette took it and set it aside.

“You came to look for me?” he said quietly.

“… I did. Rough day, Monsieur?”

“Yes,” Neuvillette said, “It has been… a ‘rough day.’ It is… nice to see you.”

Wriothesley reached for his hands, and Neuvillette let him take them.

“If you’re here, court proceedings must be over,” Wriothesley said, “I could stay awhile. If you’re done for the day, I mean. I could make a pot of tea. You could talk to me about it.”

His hands were so warm, even through Neuvillette’s gloves. He felt like he could lean on them.

“… I do not have any other appointments,” Neuvillette said. “I will admit, I… had plans for today, which I was scheduling other meetings around, and they… fell through.”

“When our meeting was canceled,” Wriothesley guessed.

“Yes. I…” he trailed off.

Strange. He’d been wishing he could see Wriothesley for an entire month, and now he found himself unable to looked directly at him.

Wriothesley squeezed his hands. “So you were disappointed. You missed me, too?”

“– Yes,” Neuvillette said. That was this heaviness in his chest. It made sense. “Yes, that-- sounds correct. I-- was looking forward to seeing you, so having that chance taken away, was… disappointing. And I-- missed you. Your Grace.”

He looked back up at him. Wriothesley said he’d missed him as well. Another surge of relief washed over him.

“It’s nice to see you,” he said.

“You too, Monsieur. Shall we go upstairs, and I can make you that tea? Or…”

Wriothesley bowed down enough to brush his lips to the back of Neuvillette’s glove. “… You could tell me what you were hoping to do to me. You said you had plans.”

The man never missed an opening. Wriothesley’s smile, no longer colored by pain, looked almost… hungry. Neuvillette gulped.

“You said, next time, we would defile this office?” he said quickly, before he could lose his nerve, before the absolute depravity of the suggestion could stop him. “Instead of yours, I think, is what you meant. However…”

“I gave you something to think about in the bath?” Wriothesley cooed.

Neuvillette coughed. “This… this is not a good idea in practicality. You are right, we should go up to my rooms. This is a public office on the first floor of a state--”

Wriothesley closed the curtains.

“I’ll lock the door,” he said cheerfully.

Neuvillette faltered. “… Maybe we should just go upstairs…”

“Oh, you have an office in there too,” Wriothesley recalled, “But you said Lady Furina might hear us from there? Here at least there’s a hallway between us and--”

“I have a bedroom up there also,” said Neuvillette, but Wriothesley was already locking the door and sticking his umbrella through the handles for good measure.

“Monsieur, you wound me,” he said, “I made you a promise. Scoot your chair back.”

Neuvillette pushed his chair out from under his desk with a horrible scraping noise. Did Wriothesley intend to ride him sitting here? He could push him over the desk afterwards, or Wriothesley could push him, he’d said that was his preferred way to…

Wriothesley came around the desk, but he didn’t sit on it, or on Neuvillette. Instead, he knelt in front of him, under the desk, his chin coming to rest on Neuvillette’s knee.

“Pants off, Monsieur,” he said, already pushing the front tails of Neuvillette’s robe out of the way.

“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette said weakly, “If we do this here, the carpet…”

Wriothesley bit the inside of his thigh, right over the top of Neuvillette’s gartered boot. “Not if I swallow everything.”

Neuvillette moaned, his eyes squeezing shut. He was already parting along his vent, already starting to move out of it.

“Your Grace, it won’t fit,” he whimpered. “Please don’t try. Your jaw…”

Wriothesley bit higher. He was already working on the buckles of Neuvillette’s boots. “I don’t need to put the whole thing in my mouth to swallow, just the ends. I won’t swallow the eggs, and I will definitely know when they’re coming. They’re hard to miss. And if even just one of you is too big to swallow all of, well..”

He pressed his face between Neuvillette’s legs and grazed his teeth over the seam.

“I already told you I like being choked.”

… Neuvillette let Wriothesley unfasten his pants. They had to remove his boots for there to be enough room to pull them far down enough for Wriothesley to settle between his legs properly.

“Actually, can we put the boots back on,” Wriothesley started to say, but he stopped talking when he saw the heads of Neuvillette slide out from his vent.

“… Are you wetter than normal?”

Neuvillette squirmed. “If I don’t let them slide out on their own, the vent lubricates to make it easier.”

“Hmm. What about last month when you were holding on all meeting?” Wriothesley bit his thigh again, teeth scraping over a scale. Neuvillette whined and slid further out.

“You were… already quite wet inside… from the lubricant, when I took you…”

“So I just couldn’t tell? Were you wet for me that whole meeting?”

He may as well have set Neuvillette’s face aflame. “Wriothhhhesssley…”

“No distracting me, answers first. Here I felt so bad about ruining a perfectly good pair of pants, by you had already done it yourself?”

“That was also your fault,” Neuvillette snapped.

“Oh. I guess so.” Wriothesley’s hands slid over Neuvillette’s legs. He quivered, biting back another moan. “You’re welcome, Monsieur.”

He dipped his face in close between Neuvillette’s legs, but stopped before he could reach the three inches of Neuvillette that had been revealed.

He placed a hand flat against Neuvillette’s lower belly. “And Monsieur, did you save up for me again?”

“That issss not where the ovary isss--”

Wriothesley dragged his tongue up one of Neuvillette’s cocks. Neuvillette groaned and hurried to cover his mouth with both hands.

“… I wanted to hear that, but I guess there’s people on this floor.” Wriothesley said against Neuvillette’s sensitive flesh. “I’ll take what I can get. Come out to play, Monsieur.”

It was hardly as if Neuvillette needed much coaxing at this point. Wriothesley lapped at him slowly, first on one side, then the other, petting the one not under his mouth with one of his hands. He traced out the contours of Neuvillette’s erections, first up the sides, then along the ridges of every fluke, then obscenely between both as he pressed them together with his hands. Neuvillette bit down on a gloved fist to keep himself quiet, and as such heard the lewd slurping of Wriothesley tasting him from every angle. When Neuvillette had entirely slid against his lips, Wriothesley tried the heads, sucking gently on one, then the other, just barely tracing his tongue along the slits.

Neuvillette’s belly shook. He was hissing through clenched teeth, whines escaping around his fist. He really wasn’t going to last much longer like this.

Wriothesly kissed back down him on one side, tugging the other side with his hand, until he could trace his tongue around the edges of his vent, kissing along it. More of Neuvillette’s lubricant welled up, as if there was more length of Nuevillette’s cocks to give him. He found himself wishing he had more for him, with how well Wriothesley always took him--

“And the balls?” Wriothesley hinted.

Neuvillette frowned around his hand. So that was why he’d been so focused on his vent. What was it with Wriothesley and this fixation...

He pulled his hand out of his mouth. “I am… right there… hanging in front of you… and you are getting disssstracted,” he whined.

“Monsieur,” Wriothesley said mournfully, “When you have a cock, one of the sweetest pleasures in life is having your testicles licked, and it is painfully obvious that your past lovers have left you neglected. But I am here to take care of you now.”

He still had the feeling that this was a particular fixation of Wriothesley’s, but the words made Neuvillette feel warm all over. He stuffed his fist back into his mouth before he could make any noise and let the testes slip out, drizzling lubricant onto Wriothesley’s waiting, open mouth.

Wriothesley moaned in approval and sucked one past his lips immediately, rolling it under his tongue. The sensation had Neuvillette shivering, gasping around his knuckles as he arched off the chair and tried to grind onto Wriothesley’s tongue. He felt Wriothesley’s chuckle more than heard it, and he indulgently gave Neuvillette just a little more pressure before switching sides to lovingly kiss the other one. Wriothesley’s hands moved to slowly pull on Neuvillette’s cocks while he took his time, delicately licking and mouthing at Neuvillette’s balls with soft, approving groans that vibrated into his skin.

Neuvillette could… understand why this was such a preference for Wriothesley. He’d have to remember later, if he had a clear head at all after this, to return the favor sometime. Neuvillette could feel his testicles swelling and tightening while Wriothesley spoiled him with his mouth and his hands. He was starting to drip from his ends, onto his seat, onto Wriothesley’s hair. Wriothesley gave each of the balls one last long lick before pulling back.

“It seems like you’ll make a mess if I don’t hurry up,” he said. “How are you feeling, Monsieur? Was I right?”

He positioned himself in front of Neuvillette’s cocks, but he didn’t move back in. Nuevillete growled in frustration and yanked his hand out from between his teeth again. The glove ripped.

“You were right. You were correct. Yessss. Now, pleasssee…”

“You know I’m weak to that voice.” Wriothesley started to stroke Neuvillette again, considering one of his dicks, then the other. “Just let me pick my favorite…”

He seemed to like the left side better, because that was the one he took into his mouth. He tilted his head to lean into the angle of the flukes and put his mouth onto the head. He started to sink down with a moan, rubbing this cock at the base and slowly jerking off the other. After the first few flukes, the cock was too wide to just push himself onto. Neuvillette watched in amazement as Wriothesley turned his head one way, then the other, pushing at him with his tongue and sucking hard enough for Neuvillette to cry out in shock around his knuckles. After a few attempts at this, the rest of the flukes slipped into the hot, wet heat of Wriothesley’s mouth. The head brushed against the back of Wriothesley’s throat. Neuvillette’s eyes widened in panic and he started to push at Wriothesley’s shoulders before he took too much and got hurt, but Wriothesly moaned around him and started to swallow. With the sucking pressure of Wriothesley’s mouth and throat working on it, Neuvillette’s cock was squeezed into a shape that Wriothesley could force down his throat.

Neuvillette gripped a hand into Wriothesley’s hair, biting down hard enough on his fist to taste blood. Wriothesley pulled off, until only the flukes were in his mouth, stretching it open, and then crammed it all back down again. Neuvillette’s shoulders shook and he pulled Wriothesley’s hair harder, trying to ground himself against this impossible feeling, and Wriothesley took this as encouragement to go faster. The strokes on the rights-side cock picked up too, alternating with the bobbing of Wriothesley’s head. Neuvillette’s mind was going hazy. He could feel Wriothesley’s tongue licking around him as he was devoured again and again.

Wriothesley pulled off him with a gasp and looked up to meet Neuvillette’s eyes, tongue lolling out, mouth dripping drool and lubricant. Neuvillette had pulled his hand out of his mouth again to ask if he was okay when Wriothesley started to stroke furiously at the cock that had been in his mouth, and swallowed down the other in one go.

Neuvillette roared, his thighs tense, feet digging into the soft carpet, as he fought to stop himself from snapping his hips up into Wriothesley’s mouth.

“Closssssssee—” he warned, his voice more hiss than vowel. “Wrio-- Wriothhh--”

Wriothelsey pulled himself all the way off again and clenched Neuvillette’s cocks together in both hands. He opened wide and pushed both heads, and as many flukes as he could fit, into his mouth. His eyes stayed trained on Neuvillette’s face as his tongue lapped at whatever part of him his tongue could reach, slurping on him desperately. His eyes were tearing up from the effort.

Wriothesley was trying so hard for him. Hurtling towards the edge, Neuvillette swelled with gratitude.

It only took one more good suck for him to come. Wriothesley’s mouth formed a seal around his ends that made it impossible for any of his seed to escape, still licking at him as he started to gulp it down. His hands started to wring at his cocks as if they were one piece, pulling more and more out of him. Neuvillette clutched the arms of his chair with both hands, fighting to hold himself in place as he poured into his mouth.

The rush subsided, though the next one was well on its way and they both knew it.. Wriothesley lapped up the last drops and let his mouth hang open, showing Neuvillette his tongue painted white. He stared, overcome at this vision, and watched Wriothesley turn his head and close his mouth just before the eggs could hit his face. He tugged at Neuvillette with eager hands, pulling every last egg out of him while he quaked through the second orgasm. Wriothesley’s name was torn again and again from Neuvillette’s lips while he spawned in his hands, while Wriothesley pressed sweet kisses up and down the sides of his cocks. He spawned egg after egg until he could feel himself squeezing down around nothing, in his vent, deeper up in his ovary, his body trying to find more to give Wriothesley when he had already taken everything.

Neuvillette closed his eyes and sunk into the cushions of his office chair. “Wri… Wriothhhhesssly, you…”

“Yeah?” Wriothesley came out from under the desk, massaging his jaw.

“Oh… oh, doessss that hurt..”

“Might have overdone it again,” Wriothesley coughed. “Doesn’t hurt bad. Well, not my mouth. And-- if you look-- I did it. Every drop. Not a stain in sight unless the eggs leave a mark...”

“But it hurtsss,” Neuvillette repeated, “Where--”

Wriothesley pulled himself up to stand. “Where do I hurt? Where do you think?”

He was still fully clothed and straining against the front of his trousers. Neuvillette gently cupped the protrusion in his hand, pressing back when Wriothesley thrust against him.

“Should’ve at least pulled myself out, but I was really focused,” Wriothesley groaned, letting Neuvillette stroke him and feel out his shape over his pants. “You were so-- oh, you were… so…”

He stumbled back. “Do you think we can make it up the elevator without anyone seeing? I… don’t think I can keep still if you do that for me right now.”

Wriothesley wanted him that badly. Just the taste of him had got him desperate. Neuvillette shivered as he felt an aftershock pulse through him.

He thought about how to pay him back. “I didn’t file down my claws, since I thought… I would not need to. But I have a spare cravat…”

Wriothesley winced. “You want me to fuck your cravat like a teenager using a handkerchief?”

“… I will think about that later,” Neuvillette admitted. “I have more in my room if you would like to borrow…”

He shook himself out. “But no, I was thinking that I could use it to wipe up anything that landed on my desk.”

Wriothesley considered this. “And you would be…”

“Holding you in my lap?” Neuvillette suggested. “Using my hands.”

Wriothesley grinned. He swung his hips as he came over, then sat down on Neuvillette’s legs.

“Oh… Monsieur,” he murmured, leaning his head back against Neuvillette’s shoulder, “Your claws are still sharp, yes? Your gloves are already ruined, so you may as well keep them on.”

It was very difficult, it turned out, to pull another man out of his pants while wearing wet silk gloves, especially with Wriothesley sitting in his lap where he could not see, and doing a very poor job of staying still. It took four very clumsy hands to free him.

Looking over Wriothesley’s shoulder, Neuvillette could see he was already fit to burst. His cock was trembling in the open air, already weeping from the glans. Wriothesley groaned at the contact while Neuvillette took him in hand.

He dipped the other hand into Wriothesley’s clothes. “The… balls as well?”

Wriothesley twisted half around to glare up at him.

“I have been fucking your carpet for the last several minutes. We do not need to worry about foreplay. My balls have seen their action rubbing on the floor, Monsieur, and now I would like them drained.”

“That is crass, Your Grace,” said Neuvillette. “And... are you sure?”

He pushed his hand down lower until he could find Wriothesley’s sack and press against it with his gloved hand.

Wriothesley bucked up against him. “Archons--”

Neuvillete frowned. “Let’s not invoke my employer right now.”

“Oh. Right--” he bit his lip. “I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

Neuvillette shifted his grip on Wriothesley and started to tug him, slow at first, unsure how sensitive he was. When Wriothesley jerked up again and tried to chase the contact, Neuvillette took that as a sign to pull on him much faster.

The moans that fell from Wriothesley’s lips were shameless, as he thrust up into Neuvillette’s hand around him, as he ground against the hand on his balls.

“Nggh-- fuck, Neuvillette--”

“That’s better,” Neuvillette murmured. He gripped him harder, pressed down with the hand that was lower-- he wasn’t sure what else to do with the testes, honestly, but Wriothesley seemed to like this more than well enough-- and Wriothesley was chanting his name, a plea, a prayer. Neuvillette was not going to slide back out of his vent again anytime soon, he was simply not built for it, but Wriothesley’s dirty moans shaping his name was still mesmerizing as if he were still in the act, still had his heart pounding the same way.

“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley groaned, “Neuvillette, Neuvillete, Neu--”

White spattered across the desk. Wriothesley really had been close. Neuvillette was careful to keep him aimed onto the furniture while he pumped every last drop out of him, feeling the swollen scrotum under his other hand rapidly deflate.

The flow of cum trickled out, leaving Wriothesley heaving and clutching at the arms of the chair the way Neuvillette had been not long ago.

“… Neuvillette,” Wriothesley said, “That was…”

Neuvillette tucked Wriothesley back into his pants. “I suppose,” he said, “That I was inspired, because I missed you very much.”

“… Yeah,” Wriothesley said. “You… you too.”

“I did not recognize that feeling by name,” Neuvillette continued, “My chest felt heavy and cold, and I could not think of anyone else outside of my cases. At one point, I thought I might be ill.”

“You did?”

“Yes. Perhaps it seems silly, to someone who can name the emotion so easily.”

Wriothesley turned in Neuvillette’s lap until he was facing him.

“You could have told me,” he said. His voice was quiet, rough around the edges. Odd… he hadn’t seemed to yell himself hoarse this time.

“We were both busy,” Neuvillette said, “I couldn’t have troubled--”

Wriothesley kissed him. His mouth stayed closed, but he stayed pressed against him for five thudding heartbeats before sitting back down.

“If it hurts that much,” he said, and then he gestured to the curtained windows, towards the rain that was still pouring outside, “If it’s this much-- send me an express post letter. I can’t see the weather from where I work. Barring an actual emergency, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Neuvillette shook his head. “I cannot be so selfish,” he said. “I… should not interrupt both of our work, just because I am…”

“I’m saying that you can,” Wriothesley said. His eyes were red. Was he angry? Upset? Why had Neuvillette’s consideration hurt him? How did he fix--

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” Wriothesley snapped. “Being lonely isn’t a just because, Monsieur, not if it’s lonely for me and I could be there. Aren’t we more to each other than that?”

“… More to each other,” Neuvillette repeated. “You are… the person I look forward to meeting most. I truly did not wish to upset--”

“– Stop that. Listen. If you want to see me more, I will be there. We can find more ways. Even with our schedules. I don’t know how much of yours can be moved around, but I have more gaps in mine. I can find a way to rearrange it. We can meet late, as long as we can get up on time.”

“And… you would do that for me,” Neuvillette ventured. “Because we are… ‘more to each other’.”

Wriothesley hesitated. “More than we used to be, at least. Right?”

“Your Grace…” Neuvillette swallowed. “What are we to each other, then? I regarded you fondly enough before this started, but now…”

“I don’t think I can make that decision on my own,” Wriothesley said. “What do you want?”

“I…”

He wanted to see him every day. That, he knew, might not be a practical request.

“I… would like to see you more. Much more.”

“I would like that too,” Wriothesley said. “And. Are you… seeing other people?”

Neuvillette almost said yes, he met with many people every day, before the actual meaning caught up with him. “I have not been having sexual encounters with anyone else, and if presented with the option, I think I would not take it.” He froze. “Have you--”

Wriothesley laughed, softly, shaking his head. “No, Neuvillette. It’s only been you this whole time.”

“And if presented with the opportunity, would you…”

“I would also say no.”

“Oh.”

“So that makes us… lovers, in the very least,” Wriothesley said.

“My lover,” Neuvillette said, tasting the words, and finding them delicious. “My… Wriothesley.”

A smile rose up Wriothesley’s face. “My Neuvillette.”

“Lovers, in the least,” Neuvillette said. “Should we… revisit our decision on when to tell other people?”

Wriothesley kissed his cheek. “If you are trying to get out of social engagements,” he said, “Having someone waiting for you can be a handy tool.”

“… The press will come to you like crabs and gulls to a whalefall,” Neuvillette warned. “Are prepared for that?”

He shrugged. “I have been in the papers before. When I was arrested. When I was sentenced. When I became a Duke. Some other times.”

Neuvillette hummed. “I suppose no one will have to ask how we met.”

“Ha! I guess that’s true.”

“… We have lain together four or more times, depending on how one counts, and I have not even invited you to dinner,” Neuvillette realized faintly.

“I don’t think we need to worry about three dates before I put out,” Wriothesley teased. “Instead, you were inside me three times before the first--”

Neuvillette kissed him rather than let him finish that sentence. Outside, the rain had stopped.

Chapter Text

Wriothesley supposed he could have helped more with cleanup, seeing as Neuvillette had only stuffed his mouth this time and he was perfectly capable of walking. The trouble was that Neuvillette looked pretty cute chasing his eggs across the floor.

The little things rolled around over the carpet while he tried to pick them up with his bare hands and scoop them into his wastebasket. Wriothesley only got up from the office chair to help when Neuvillette popped one with his claws by accident. The way he stared, expression blank, at the blue stain on the cuff of his shirtsleeve, seemed distressed.

“I can sand those down for you later,” he offered, kneeling next to Neuvillette to help him pick up the last of the stray eggs. “Your evening is free now, right?”

“Yes, I have no more appointments. I was thinking it would be nice to eat dinner out rather than balancing plates on my bed,” said Neuvillette. He tied off the trash bag and put the lid back over the bin. “There. Now, I will just need to go upstairs to put away my robe. If you would like to change, we could see if anything of mine fits?”

Wriothesley stood and looked down at himself. His clothes weren’t stained, he’d made sure of that, but they were wet from places the eggs had bounced off of him or Neuvillette’s lubricant had dripped onto him, and oddly creased in places. He was sure his hair looked much worse from being grabbed.

“That might be for the best, if we’re going someplace nice,” he laughed. He offered a hand to help Neuvillette up. He put his robe back on and, save for the lack of gloves (the dirty ones stuffed into his pocket with the cravat he’d used to wipe the evidence off the desk), he looked entirely normal.

Was it going to look like Wriothesley had gotten into a fight with him and lost badly, he wondered, or would they figure out what had happened in this office? As Wriothesley picked up his umbrella at the door, he remembered:

Neuvillette had covered his mouth for most of his turn and muffled his cries into his hands, but Wriothesley had made no such efforts. He’d been shouting Neuvillette’s name the whole time he was in his lap. Anyone who heard that would know.

Neuvillette opened the door to the usual chorus of greetings from the Melusines in the room. Several human Gestionnaires seated near the office immediately stopped peering in the direction of Neuvillette’s office and whipped their heads back down towards their desks.

They knew.

Or, at least, they’d certainly heard. Wriothesley walked with a little more swagger than was strictly necessary, matching his strides with the Chief Justice’s. Neuvillette did not pay the staff any mind, walking calmly as he always did to reach Sedene’s desk.

“Good evening.”

The Melusine’s eyes crinkled up in the corners. She had no mouth, but she was smiling. “Good evening, Monsieur Neuvillette, Your Grace. Do you need me to call a cleaning crew to your office?”

Behind them, Wriothesley’s ears pricked at the sounds of people’s clothes rustling as they shifted in their seats. He stood up just a little straighter.

“That will not be necessary. But would it be possible to un-cancel the dinner reservation I made for half-past seven?” Neuvillette asked, his voice mild and placid as a lake on a clear day.

She nodded, her eyes squinting up until they were almost shut. “Your reservation for Balcon De Brise? I took the liberty of sending Muirne ahead to ask about it when His Grace arrived. They were happy to give you back your table!”

“Your ability to anticipate shifts in my schedule never ceases to amaze me. Would you be able…”

“… To put tomorrow morning back as it was, as well? Yes, your ten o’clock was moved back to its original scheduled time on the day after next. I sent Baron Hugo a bottle of wine as an apology for all the trouble.”

“Oh, you are good,” Wriothesley laughed, surprised.

“I am a top-class member of the Marechausee Phantom even if I spend most of my time behind this desk,” Sedene said proudly. “Have a good evening, Monsieur Neuvillette, Your Grace!”

They turned back towards the rest of the room: Neuvillette, the perfect, impenetrable fortress, and Wriothesley with his hair and clothes thoroughly ravaged. Every human’s head turned back towards their work again. As they made their way out towards the elevator, many furtive glances were made towards them from behind books.

Wriothesley took the liberty of linking arms with Neuvillette while they waited for the elevator for all of them to see. Right as the door opened, he looked over his shoulder to the stunned crowd and winked. The whispers rose in volume to the point where Wriothesley could almost, almost discern words other than his name.

Alone in the elevator, Wriothesley turned to Neuvillette and smirked. “They all think you folded me over your desk and pounded my criminal record right out of me.”

“… Oh,” Neuvillette said. “That feels… different than the Melusines understanding we’ve lain together.”

“Doesn’t it?” Wriothesley said.

“It more seems like… the crowd in the Opera, before the curtain goes up. But do not worry. Office gossip never leaves the Palais.”

“Worry?” Wriothesley frowned. “We just agreed we’re together, right?”

Neuvillette looked down at their linked arms. “We did. I am still pleased with that. But I have put you in a compromising situation--”

Wriothesley shushed him gently. “And now they know you’re mine.”

Neuvillette’s lips parted softly. “Oh,” he said again.

Wriothesley patted Neuvillette’s hand where it rested on his arm. He got an appreciative squeeze to his bicep in response.

“Still, we should be more careful,” Wriothesley said, “There’s being public with out relationship, then there’s public indecency.”

Neuvillette nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. I was mostly able to keep quiet, but I should have reminded you. I suppose I was focused on other things.”

“Yeah, shame on you,” Wriothesley snorted. “Next time, shove the extra cravat into my mouth and gag me.”

The Chief Justice stared, holding himself perfectly still, but his face slowly filled with color.

The elevator opened onto the second-highest floor. They went into Neuvillette’s apartment so Neuvillette could set aside the robe and put on fresh gloves, an evening waistcoat, and a cape. The man had a lot of clothes for someone who was scarcely ever seen out of uniform, Wriothesley thought. Neuvillette fussed over Wriothesley a little, finding something that would fit him (another corseted pair of trousers like the ones he’d torn open with his claws a few weeks ago, since nothing else in Neuvillette’s closet could possibly fit over his wider hips and another loose, ruffled shirt, the only think in Neuvillette’s closet that could handle Wriothesley’s shoulders). Wriothesley let Neuvillette help him dress, but insisted on tidying his hair himself.

The two headed out into the summer evening.

“So, Balcon de Brise?” Wriothesley said. “I don’t think I know it.”

“It is a small place above a grocery, further up the hill in the hotel district,” Neuvillette explained, “I suppose it is not so crowded these days as it was when it opened after the Cataclysm.”

Wriothesley raised his eyebrows. “And you’ve been going there that whole time?”

“The owner was personal friend,” said Neuvillette, “Having sampled the way fish was prepared in other places when he was a mess sargeant, he brought some of those techniques back home. His skill was such that he earned an unlanded barony title, and later was promoted to viscountcy in his old age.”

“Sounds like it’s pretty good,” Wriothesley said.

“Yes, I go there often, when I have a night to myself. They know me well.”

So this was not someplace Neuvillette took aristocrats to for negotiations. This was someplace more personal to him, where he went to unwind.

He had to admit he was curious. “How’s their water selection?”

Neuvillette stopped at the top of the stairs up into the hotel district. “Oh, it is excellent… but I know, when celebrating, humans tend to drink wine?”

“Trying to get me drunk when you already know I’ll give it up for you,” Wriothesley snorted “What water would you drink to celebrate something?”

“I would open a bottle of Sobek Oasis groundwater,” Neuvillette said, “It is sweet, and its mouthfeel is smooth and playful. Perhaps, after dinner… we could return to my apartment and open one. The vintage of twenty-seven years ago was particularly fine.”

“Dinner and a nightcap.” Wriothesley smiled. “Monsieur, I would be honored.”

He really didn’t get it. He could barely tell the difference between the differently sourced waters unless tea was involved, but maybe one day he would.

The restaurant was small, and they had to go around the back of the grocery underneath to get up the stairs into it. The seating area was entirely on a large balcony, though there seemed to be a retractable roof that could be hung over it.

The host was waiting for them at the door.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, it is always a pleasure,” he said. “And this is… His Grace, Duke Wriothesley? Welcome to the Balcon.”

“Michel. I apologize for the back-and-forth with my reservation,” Neuvillette said, “Especially when you are so busy tonight.”

Only three of the eight tables were occupied.

The host hook his head. “There was a sudden trial to attend to, I hear. We are always glad to see you, Monsieur.”

The host brought them to a table right against the balcony, looking over the city, and the sea beyond the wall. The sun was just beginning to set, giving the light just a hint of gold.

“This view is incredible,” Wriothesley said, in genuine awe. He went around the table to get Neuvillette’s chair, but didn’t really take his eyes away from the coastline. He didn’t get to see many sunsets. After staring a little longer. he shook himself out and was seated.

They were each given a small, hand-lettered menu. Neuvillette did not even glance at his. “For my main course, I will be having the catch of the day. Your Grace?”

“Oh, give me a minute,” Wriothesley laughed. “You recommend the catch of the day so highly?”

Neuvillette made the usual pause before remembering to smile. “I have never been disappointed.”

“I might steal a few bites, then,” he lilted. “I will have… the wine-poached eel, please.”

“And, of course, a round of today’s fare for apertif, and a sparkling Automnequi wine,” Neuvillette finished.

“Oh? Not Qince Village springwater? It must have been quite the trial,” the host chuckled. “Very good, Monsieur, Your Grace. Your apertif will be out shortly.”

“You really do know this place well,” Wriothesley said, once they were left alone.

“Of course,” Neuvillette said, “I have always been assured of the quality here. And I suppose it is no surprise that I am fond of fish. I… used to catch them, in my much younger days.”

Wriothesley rested his elbows on the table and leaned forwards. “You don’t mean with a fishing line, do you.”

“No. I would swim to the thickest school of fish and snatch up the largest ones with my teeth. Or I would root in the sand for crabs, chase pods of blubberbeasts, and peel lumitoiles off of rocks.”

Wriothesley laughed. “That’s hard to imagine, I’ll admit.”

Neuvillette gave another pause, another smile. “I suppose it is, with how I look now. I was… very different, back then.”

“A shame this was before the invention of the Kamera,” Wriothesley mourned. “I am sure the baby pictures would have been incredible.”

“I am… sorry?” Neuvillette supplied. “There is a somewhat younger image of me here, though.”

“There is?” Wriothesley started to stand.

Neuvillette reached out and took his hand to stop him. “You may look at it later. It is from the opening night. I sat with the founder and the staff to be sketched. ”

Wriothesley sat back down, but Neuvillette did not let go of his hand. He only rested it on the table and wound their fingers together.

“So,” Wriothesley hummed, “I suppose this is the part where one of us says, tell me about yourself.”

“This… is a joke, yes?” Neuvillette said slowly. “You know a great deal more about me than most other people already.”

Wriothesley shrugged. “And you know more about me than most people remember. I make a point of keeping mysterious, and my name, if you recall, is different now than what it was in my sentencing.”

Wriothesley had got his hands on that day’s Steambird, years later.

TEEN BOY KILLS HUMAN TRAFFICKER FOSTER PARENTS IN ATTEMPT TO SAVE OTHER CHILDREN, ARRESTED WITH NO RESISTANCE.

Neuvillette’s grip on his hand tightened. “I do recall this. You also gave a different name than you were arrested under, and gave your birthday to the reception clerk at Meropide as that day, despite the birthdate being a month and a half later on the profile submitted for the court record.”

“I was just that determined to turn over a new leaf,” Wriothesley said. “And I didn’t want to keep the name or the birthday those people gave me.”

He thought a moment. “Didn’t it rain that day?”

Neuvillette looked at their hands rather than facing Wriothesley directly. “I am sure you remember as well as I do. It was a long and painful trial. When what is lawful and what is wrong are at odds with each other… it is difficult to make the right decision. And it sits heavily with me. Wriothesley, I…”

“Do not apologize,” Wriothesley said firmly. “Life would not have been easier going back into foster care after that trial. Exile under the ocean where no one knew, especially with no name to tie me to it, where I could become someone different, was better for me. Otherwise, I would have tried harder to run away.”

“… If that is how you see it, then,” Neuvillette said.

“I do. And, if I hadn’t done so well down there and become the Duke, how could we be having dinner together now?”

“Our relationship… would be different,” Neuvillette said, thinking it over. “If we ever met at all.”

“But, instead,” Wriothesley pressed, “Here we are, and here I am: Duke Wriothesley.”

“… Then you are right, perhaps, and it is a good thing. I happen to be quite fond of Duke Wriothesley.”

Wriothesley smiled. He petted the back of Neuvillette’s hand with his thumb, and they were quiet until a young woman brought over tray of various tiny dishes and their bottle of wine. “Is… everything all right, Monsieur Neuvillette?” she asked. “I heard there was a big trial…”

“Oh, Nadine. We are quite all right.” Neuvillette said.

The waitress glanced at their hands.

“She thinks I am comforting you,” Wriothesley hinted. “Everything is well, Miss.”

“That is good then.” She smiled, relieved, and went back to work. “Aperos tonight include soft and hard cheeses, crudites, olives, and crackers and toast points with jam, tapenade, and mackerel roe. Shall I open the wine?”

Wriothesley looked at the roe sitting by the toast, then back at Neuvillette.

“– I can open it, thank you, Nadine. Give my regards to your father,” Neuvillette coughed.

When the server left, he shot Wriothesley a glare and untangled their hands. “Do not say it.”

“Say what? Roe is a traditional garnish for apertif, I see nothing out of place.” Wriothesley nudged Neuvillette’s foot under the table.

He was starting to turn blue around the ears. “What was it we were saying about public indecency--”

Wriothesley heaped a large scoop of the fish eggs onto a bite of toast. “… Actually, is it weird for you to eat this? Should I not?”

“Only if you make such a face at me while you do it,” Neuvillette said.

He uncorked the wine and poured it into both their glasses. Monstadt may have been the undisputed king among wine industries, but good sparkling white wine was nearly always referred to as Automnequi, even when it did not come from the vineyard on those slopes. Aristocrats and wealthy people from all over the world drank it for birthdays, the new year, and weddings. Wriothesley had only drank it once before, when he accepted his ducal title and attended the reception afterwards.

“… Why did Nadine assume something was wrong?” Neuvillette asked. “You were smiling when she got to us, and no one ever makes assumptions based on my expression anymore.”

“It is uncommon for two men to hold hands,” Wriothesley said. “She must have thought one of us was very upset.”

“But lovers hold hands all the time. And you were smiling,” Neuvillette said again. “Should it not have been obvious?”

Wriothesley shook his head. “People don’t always leap to that assumption if it’s two men or two women. As happy as people are to recognize those relationships here compared to in, say, Schneznaya, it’s still less common.”

“I… see. So they will not know we are lovers just because we hold hands and walk together?”

Wroithesley hummed. “Not necessarily. Other men who date men will probably pick up on it, or other people who are often around such relationships, or people who just pick up on these things easily.”

Neuvillette took Wriothesley’s hand again. “Surely there is something between holding hands and public indecency that will let people know, though.”

“Telling them,” Wriothesley offered. “That works pretty well.”

“…”

“What is it?”

“I am not often asked about such things, and am not sure when I would bring them up,” Neuvillette said, “That is all.”

His face was so hard to read when they were in public and his expression stayed fixed. But...

Wriothesley grinned. “You want people to know.”

Neuvillette fidgeted. “Yes. When you said, now they know you’re mine, I… enjoyed that.”

Wriothesley’s chest felt warm, all of a sudden, for someone who had wine in front of him but hadn’t drunk any yet.

“… Monsieur is adorable. I suppose couples can also be spotted by other signs. Hanging off each other, or walking close, behaving much more familiar or affectionate.”

“I… suppose that makes sense.” Neuvillette said.

“This seems difficult for you,” Wriothesley said. “Don’t worry about it. I can teach you.”

He held out the toast with the mackerel roe piled onto it. “Have a bite.”

Neuvillette looked at his hand, then back to him. “You wouldn’t let me feed you before,” he said.

“When you were babying me last month in your rooms? My pride was hurt enough being unable to walk,” Wriothesley huffed.

Neuvillette leaned over the table and took a bite from the toast. Wriothesley saw a flash of pointed teeth and blue forked tongue. So pretty… and now, all his.

Neuvillette sat back up while he chewed. “You are right,” he said, “It feels a bit childish. I used to feed the Melusines that way. Perhaps… like this instead.”

He spread some cheese onto a cracker and offered it out.

“It doesn’t have to be childish. You’re offering me bait to misbehave, Monsieur,” Wriothesley warned.

He made sure to lock eyes with him while he took a bite of the cracker, grazing his teeth against the pad of Neuvillette’s thumb.

Neuvillette drew his hand back. “This seems dangerously close to how you act with me in the elevator.”

Wriothesley smirked. “But you said it would be at least a few hours before that was a problem for you again?”

“… It can still affect me somewhat. We should not talk about this here.” Neuvillette said.

“And I think I’m mysterious.” Wriothesley pulled his hand out of Neuvillette’s and picked up his wineglass. “Shall we toast to discovering each other?”

“Yes.” Neuvillette picked up his glass and clinked it against his. “To discovering each other.”

They spoke on lighter subjects while they ate the rest of their meal. True to Neuvillette’s promise, the food was excellent-- maybe the best Wriothesley had ever had, outside of Court dinners he couldn’t get out of attending. Neuvillette had a great deal of opinions about the Opera House’s current season of shows, and Wriothesley had stories about Sigewinne’s antics and the ongoing series of matches in the Fortress’s Pankration ring. They talked about detective novels, Neuvillette’s favorite coastlines from the shore and from the water, and Wriothesley’s long list of teas he was interested in but had yet to try.

Once in awhile, Neuvillette would glance briefly to the other tables, to see if they were being watched. There was no clear sign whether this was the case.

Wriothesley remembered when he got his first “real” boyfriend a year after he was committed to Meropide, he’d wanted to shout it from the administrative area’s upper deck during lunchtime so everyone in the cafeteria could hear him. Perhaps Neuvillette was having the same sort of urge. Yes, Sigewinne had said Neuvillette had relationships in the past, but it seemed like it had been a long while, enough that all of this might as well be new to him.

If Wriothesley ever told anyone that the Iudex had such a darling, soft side to him, he suspected only Sigewinne or another Melusine would believe it. When their meal was finished and the bill settled, Wriothesley got up first and made like he would pull out Neuvillette’s chair for him again, but when he was standing over him, he leaned down and stole a kiss.

When he pulled away, Neuvillette’s face was tinged a shade of periwinkle. He tasted just a little of wine. Wriothesley stood back up and helped him with his chair like nothing had happened. The other diners had not paused their conversations, so perhaps they hadn’t seen. Nadine the waitress seemed to have caught on, though, from the smile she bit back as she bid them a good night.

“– Ah, I nearly forgot,” Neuvillette said, as they neared the exit, “Here.”

He gestured to the wall, where several framed articles and pictures were hung. One, near the center, was labeled Our First Dinner Service. It was a charcoal sketch a man who somewhat resembled Nadine in a chef’s hat, a few other people wearing aprons or dinner suits, Lady Furina in a very large, frilly dress, and Monsieur Neuvillette standing all together on the balcony of this restaurant in front of a wide display of wines and various seafood dishes.

At first glance, Neuvillette had not changed much in the last five centuries. His hair was styled slightly differently, woven into a plait, and he was holding onto Lady Furina’s hand like she might wander off otherwise. His face looked a bit softer, and perhaps his shoulders were a little thinner, but he wore the same sharp expression he was known for.

“You said the founder was a friend. Did you meet the him during the war, or after?” Wriothesley asked.

“Right after, during the reconstruction efforts,” Neuvillette said. “Viscount Emeric was part of the team who fed the workers rebuilding the walls. I asked him about how a dish was made, and we we got along well ever since. I attended his wedding, and presided over his funeral.”

Wriothesley stood closer to Neuvillette, still looking at the picture. “You must miss him.”

Neuvillette took his hand again. “Yes, at times. But Emeric lived a long life, and he is survived by his descendants, and this place, and my memory. I am reminded of him often. I cannot see him anymore, but to me, he is not truly gone.”

Wriothesley nodded. They looked at the picture awhile longer, then headed out, arm in arm again.

They made their way back to the Palais Mermonia slowly, because Wriothesly had pulled Neuvillette’s hand until it rested on his waist.

“If you are going to look over your shoulder at everyone we pass, maybe you should be a little more bold with me,” he said.

Neuvillette nodded, serious, and pressed Wriothesley close against his side while they went down the street. It slowed their pace down considerably to walk like this, but Wriothesley didn’t mind. It was a nice night out. He couldn’t tell if the people they passed could tell anything by how they were pressed together, because he had long been used to being stared at.

The workers on the Palais’s first floor definitely knew what it meant for Wriothesley to be nestled against Neuvillette’s side while they headed straight for the elevator, but they’d had hours for the gossip to spread by now. Alone again in the elevator, Wriothesley leaned up and kissed Neuvillette’s chin.

“We will be in my rooms before very long,” Neuvillete said, but he let Wriothesley pull him down to kiss him again properly until they heard the elevator door open.

A pod of Melusines in uniform cheered for them and pressed the button to close the door without getting on.

Wriothesley snorted. “Most people who date single parents have the opposite problem to me.”

“Is that so,” Neuvillette said, and when Wriothesley reached for him again, he let him press him against the wall of the elevator until they reached his floor.

“So, you wanted to open a bottle of thirty-year-old Sobek Oasis,” Wriothesley said, even as he wrapped his arms around him in the entryway.

Neuvillette pressed his mouth to his before answering. “You seemed to have other ideas.”

He made a show of thinking it over, tapping his chin. “… I wouldn’t say no, if you think you’re ready to go again… you said something about that earlier, right?”

“I did.” Neuvillette pulled Wriothesley along to a couch in the parlor, and did not protest when Wriothesley moved to sit on his lap.

“Yes, it can be much longer than it would be for most humans before I am able to… push out of myself, again,” he said. “The amount of energy it takes to finish twice, especially when I am ejaculating a full clutch of eggs, is… significant. That does not mean that I lose all interest in these things until then.”

“Meaning, what?” Wriothesley asked. “With how sensitive you get, I assumed just pulling you out isn’t the move.”

Neuvillette winced. “Yes. The hemipenes stay inside until they are ready to come out on their own. Though with the pause we took for dinner… they might be coaxed out.”

“I would like that,” Wriothesley said, “But there’s other things?”

“When sufficiently aroused, though, say… very inappropriate behavior in the elevator… or, perhaps, if I am touching you with my hands in my office and hearing you pray to me while you shudder in my lap…”

Wriothesley groaned softly. “And thank so you much.”

“… I can be... excited in the same way, even if I am not erect and outside of my vent,” Neuvillette finished.

Wriothesley hummed. “… You said the vent was fair game, before, if your eggs are already out?” he said. “Does that mean I could turn us over some time after you’re done with me and switch places?”

“… Right away… might be too sensitive,” Neuvillette said, though he didn’t sound sure.

“You’re not sure?” Wriothesley laid his head on his shoulder. “What about when you’re alone? You never tried, after you came, to put a finger in right after?”

The immediately deepening of Neuvillette’s blush and the way his eyes widened in scandal was an answer enough. He held up a hand to Wriothesley’s face, fingers splayed to show off his claws.

“I… do not use these hands inside myself,” he said.

“And by the time you’ve fucked someone twice, they’re not exactly ready to pound into you right away,” Wriothesley added helpfully.

Neuvillette’s thighs pressed together under him. “… All I meant to say is that kissing, other touching, or… touching the area around the vent, still feels… good. It also means that your insistence on teasing me still has an effect.”

“So… long before you’re ready to come back out, you can still get wet for me,” Wriothesley summarized.

Neuvillette’s legs shifted again.

“… Like now,” Wriothesley suggested.

“Just… warm,” Neuvillette said. “We were kissssing… lubricant happens when it’s trying to pusssh out. Though… it won’t be long before I can.”

“So you’re telling me this because… you’d like to do something?” Wriothesley guessed.

Neuvillette nodded slightly. “I… wasn’t able to see you for sssso long…”

“Oh, you don’t need to be shy,” Wriothesley said, “You’re not the only one who wants to make up for lost time. If it won’t be long, though, why don’t we start a bath, and open that oasis water, and I’ll sand down some of your claws?”

“… This does sound nice.”

“Then, if you still aren’t ready to go, I’ll reach behind and use my hands on you.” He held up his hands and curled his fingers to show Neuvillette how short his nails were.

(It did occur to him that this was a problem homosexual women usually had. Maybe he would joke about this with Clorinde later, once he got around to telling her.)

Neuvillette looked at Wriothesley’s fingers for a moment that he proudly thought was a little longer than it really needed to be. “This, also… sounds like a nice way to spend the evening.”

Soon enough, they were sitting in the tub, Wriothesley sitting with his legs slung over Neuvillette’s lap while the water filled up around them. The ornate bottle of Sumeran water from the Sobek Oasis was sitting at the side of the bath with the soaps. Wriothesley waited for Neuvillette’s nails to soak in the water a few minutes, hoping it would help soften them, before picking up a file and a washcloth to sand down those claws.

“… Soaking did nothing. Are your claws made of steel?” Wriothesley grumbled, peering at his work while he moved the file.

“I am the Hydro Dragon. What use would claws that were weaker in the water be to me?” said Neuvillette. “You see how I got so impatient.”

“I did metalworking in Meropide for a long time, you know. This is nothing compared to sanding down gears so they’ll turn smoothly and quietly. I don’t even have to get your claws all the way uniform.” Wriothesley shrugged. “And you were just that eager to touch me.”

“I… was eager to do these things without hurting you,” Neuvillette admitted. “I did not think you needed any more scars.”

He reached up the hand not being manicured and stroked the back of a knuckle along one of the deep, angry scars that slashed up Wriothesley’s throat.

Wriothesley swallowed. “I don’t think those scars are from a story fit for the mood we’re trying to set right now, Monsieur. Perhaps I could tell you another time.”

“… Very well.” Neuvillette bowed his head and pressed a kiss to another scar at the side of his neck.

“We can’t tell each other everything right away. Where the fun in that?” Wriothesley said lightly.

Neuvillette hummed an agreement. He dragged his tongue up the scar, flicking his tongue over his adam’s apple.

“Neuvillette… it will take longer if you distract me,” Wriothesley murmured. He tried to move the file faster than he already was.

“It will take a long while regardless,” Neuvillette pointed out. “You are still fine if I leave kiss marks in visible places?”

“Feeling like you need to claim your territory?” Wriothesley said dryly, only to gasp at another long lick up the path of another scar.

“Perhapsss. This would be one way for people to know,” Neuvillette said. He kissed and lapped at Wriothesley’s neck, unhurried, while Wriothesley very much hurried to try and sand down those claws faster.

“How do you feel right now, other than possessive?” Wriothesley asked, even while tilting his head back to give Neuvillette better access to him.

“Warm. Light. Glad you are here,” Neuvillette said. “Possessive… I do not know if that is what this is. But the idea of people knowing you are mine… I do like it.”

“Oh, you’re a jealous lover. Good.”

“… Good? I have heard that is not a thing people tend to want.”

“It means we match.” Wriothesley kissed the finger he’d been working on to test his work, nodded to himself, licked it, and moved onto the next claw. “I have even been told I am greedy.”

“The dragons are supposed to be the greedy ones,” Neuvillette sighed. He dipped his head lower to suck at a scar on Neuvillette’s chest.

“You’ll get in the way of my hands,” Wriothesley mumbled. He was starting to get hard between his legs from this treatment. Sitting on Neuvillette’s thighs in the water, there was no way he couldn’t see it.

“That’s true.” Neuvillette sat back up and contented himself with pressing a kiss to Wriothesley’s cheek. “And I still haven’t opened the Sobek.”

Wriothesley was curious how Neuvillette intended to uncork the fancy-looking bottle of water with only one hand free, and then wondered how he hadn’t guessed when Neuvillette pierced the cork with the untrimmed claws of his other hand to pull it out. The water was poured into two wide, shallow glasses.

“What makes this vintage good?” Wriothesley asked, before opening his mouth to allow Neuvillette to tip a little water past his lips.

“It was colder than usual the year before, which changed the pressure of the underground spring that feeds the oasis,” said Neuvillette. He took a sip from his own glass, closing his eyes to savor it. “Can you feel it? The sense of safety and joy in a hot, dry place?”

It tasted like bottled water, Wriothesley thought. But he knew what oases meant to the people in the desert. “I understand its value,” he said, “Who packages this, rather than drinking it themselves after going that far out?”

“The Eremites are the ones who bottle it,” Neuvillette said. “They trade it with other Eremites to express goodwill. This bottle was sent to me as thanks when an Eremite was falsely accused of murder and I declared her innocent despite ambiguity in the case.”

Wriothesley swapped out his file for another moved to work on the next claw. “Even though the Oratrice makes the final calls on your cases?”

“The Oratrice has also never disagreed with me, for all these years. Its agreement when I make rulings in unsure cases provides reassurance for the citizens who come to view court proceedings.”

“That makes sense.” Wriothesley could remember that the Oratrice’s scale had swayed back and forth so often during his own trial that he’d been reminded of the metronome his foster parents kept by their grand piano. Neuvillette must have been unsure too. How odd that he, the one on trial for two murders, had apparently been the only one sure that he was guilty.

“Could I have another sip?” he asked, rather than dwelling on this subject.

“Drink slowly,” Neuvillette advised, “Sumeran water is always best when savored and contemplated.”

He sipped it carefully and did his best to savor it as he’d been asked. He got more out of watching Neuvillette drink it with such obvious enjoyment.

With all four claws satisfyingly smooth, Wriothesley started on the thumbclaw.

“… Is that necessary?” Neuvillette said. “I do not intend to use my thumb in you.”

“It is if you’re going to do this the way you did last time with all four fingers. Your thumb was by my dick,” Wriothesley said. “And this thing’s sharp.”

Neuvillette relented, but he didn’t stay still while Wriothesley worked. He started up kissing his neck again, and his shoulders, letting his teeth graze, but never quite drawing blood. The soft lips and long tongue, accented by the prick of the teeth, did not help Wriothesley concentrate. He almost dropped the file when Neuvillette’s tongue grazed over his nipple.

“Almost-- done. Be patient,” Wriothesley panted. When he finally set the file down, Neuvillette turned to capture Wriothesley’s lips. Wriothesley moaned for him, opening his mouth to let the hungry dragon in, and pushed his hands down Neuvillette’s body. He slid a hand between his legs to feel along the smooth, closer-together scales that protected his vent. Nothing was poking out of it, yet, but Neuvillette hissed and parted his legs so he could press up against his hand.

“Not quite ready yet?” Wriothesley said. He petted him, pleased with the soft sigh he was given for it.

“Not… yet… ssstay there,” Neuvillette requested, before kissing him again, slowly, responding with more soft sounds while Wriothesley rocked his hand against him. Wriothesley shifted onto his knees at Neuvillette’s side and rose up to nuzzle against the side of his head, and then to kiss the antenna that sat against his hair. He relished the way Neuvillette gasped and moved on to slide his tongue along it.

“We are at a bit of an impasse, Monsieur,” Wriothesley murmured, “Seeing you like this is going to get me very hard indeed, but I do not want to address that until you are prepared to help me with it. Whatever shall we do?”

Neuvillette groaned. “You sssssaid… you wanted to…”

“Oh, I did make a suggestion,” Wriothesley said, as if just now remembering it. “Shall we switch, and you sit over my lap? Or do you want to bend over the side of the tub?”

“Wriothhessley, I haven’t even bent you over,” Neuvillette complained.

“I like watching your face too much,” Wriothesley said, with the air of serious confession, “You make a very good point. But let’s have you sit. I won’t see you sliding out to meet me if you’re turned away..”

Neuvillette let Wriothesley reposition him onto his lap.

“… Lubricant,” he realized belatedly. “I do not usually need… one moment.”

He clambered out of the bath and disappeared for a minute, returning with the bottle. “I don’t remember how well thisss works in the water.”

“Better than just water?” Wriothesley said. “Unless your ass also makes its own…”

Neuvillette frowned. “I have been informed that my construction back there is near enough to a human’s.”

“Near enough?” Wriothesley beckoned for him to get back in the water.

“… The only notable difference is… deep enough, and you’ll hit the other side of my ovary,” Neuvillette said. “Which… will not mean anything, right now.”

“Since I sucked you empty this afternoon?” said Wriothesley, “What does it mean when it’s full?”

Neuvillette shifted, fiddling with the bottle of lube. “… It can be tender, when it’s filled out out.”

“Good tender?”

“…” Neuvillette looked away and didn’t answer.

“So… yes? If it was full only a few hours ago, how is it now?”

“… The cramping ssstopped while we were at dinner… sssoo… not too sensitive.”

Wriothesley licked his lips and reached out for him. “So you don’t have two sweet spots now, just the one I am familiar with, and I will proceed in the way I am experienced.”

He patted Neuvillette’s rear, taking a moment to appreciate it and pull him closer, before taking the bottle of oil.

“Anything else?”

“… As it has been… decadesss…”

“Go slow?”

Neuvillette nodded. Wriothesley kissed the middle of his chest, which was at eye level with how he knelt, and tested one slicked-up finger against Neuvillette’s anus. Unsurprisingly, it was closed tight, and as he had been told, it felt like any other he’d played with. No new instructions to worry about. Just his flushed and panting dragon lover, whose vent scales were bumping against Wriothesley’s stomach while he gripped at his shoulders with one hand with claws that dug into his skin sharply, and one hand with claws that didn’t prick at all.

Wriothesley kissed across his chest, petted Neuvillette’s back with his free hand, and circled a finger around the pucker of his hole. When Neuvillette started to relax again and get used to that feeling, Wriothesley pressed his fingertip inside him. Neuvillette tensed again, and Wriothesley kept his finger still.

“No rush,” Wriothesley murmured. “You’re doing well. You’re being good for me.”

He bit gently at Neuvillette’s chest, along the edges of one of his scales. Neuvillette whimpered and shifted his hips slightly.

“Ready for a little more? Okay.”

Slowly, he pulled the finger out, then pressed back in, a little further this time. Neuvillette kneaded at Wriothesley’s shoulders, but seemed to be adjusting all right.

Wriothesley took the other hand and gripped a handful of asscheek, holding Neuvillette open. “You held me like this. Is this what you like?”

Neuvillette hissed. “I jusssst wanted to touch. You have sssso much…”

“Honestly will also net you points,” Wriothesley said. He pushed his finger in further, to the second knuckle now, starting to press around inside him, opening him up more.

“Finger’ssss big,” Neuvillette hummed.

“Maybe, but you’re also so tight that I have no trouble believing it’s been longer than I’ve been alive,” Wriothesley said. “Two hundred years, maybe? I have quite an itch to scratch, don’t I?”

Neuvillette shivered, clutching his shoulders tighter. “Wriothhhesssley, you’re not being fair,” he whined. “When you talk like thissss--”

“When I talk like what?” Wriothesley curled his finger up, searching, until he found the firmer spot along the front wall inside Neuvillette. When he pressed against it, Neuvillette growled and pushed down against him.

“When you… sssssay things to… provoke me. It’sss not fair--”

Wriothesley rolled his finger against his prostate, and Neuvillette gave long, low moan rather than finish his sentence. Whether the way he clenched on his finger at first was nervousness or being out of practice rather than ordinary tightness, Neuvillette was having a much easier time now. Wriothesley fed him a second finger and started to stretch him properly. Once in awhile, he hooked his fingers up to play with that tender swell of flesh deeper in, letting Neuvillette quake and hiss and open for him. Wriothesley stopped glancing up to his face to check for signs of discomfort and went back to biting and kissing at his chest, tasting sweat and skin and scale as his thirst rose.

By the time Wriothesley eased in a third finger, Neuvillette was sitting on him fully to grind against his thigh. He felt hot against his leg, and Wriothesley could tell right away when the scales started to shift so the tips of him could press out.

“Hello, Monsieur.”

Wriothesley rewarded him with an especially hard three-fingered press against where he was most sensitive. Neuvillette rolled his hips down in answer. In the cooling bathwater, Wriothesley could feel the difference between the bath and the warm lubricant that seeped out of Neuvillette and onto his skin.

He spread his fingers wide. “My patient dragon,” he soothed. “Shall I keep on like this? Or would you like to be inside me? I know we spent a lot of time with your claws, but… imagine stretching me open, slowly, while those shy things come out… right into me…”

Neuvillette shook with want and slid out further against Wriothesley’s leg. “Yessss--”

“Yes to which?” Wriothesley asked. “On me, or in me? Or I could take a turn fucking you instead...”

Neuvillette shook his head. “Nexssst time. Sssit on me.”

“No please?” Wriothesley lilted.

“Pleasssse…sss... sssit on me…”

He really was irresistible like this. Wriothesley pulled his fingers out and pushed Neuvillette back against the other side of the tub until he could sit right on his lap, groaning with relief when his erection pressed into Neuvillette’s belly. The tips of Neuvillette that pressed against his entrance already felt bigger than usual, swollen up from being in the water. Wriothesley realized he could have let Neuvillette stay on top and kept fingering him, but he remembered how big just one of Neuvillette’s cocks had been last time they were in the bath. He needed all the help from gravity he could get. At least, in the water, the two heads, weeping with lubricant, were easy enough to press inside. He ground against Neuvillette, kissing him, murmuring encouragements, but the progress was slow. Wriothesley’s erection was throbbing between them, and they were both getting impatient.

“Need a little help, Monsieur?” Wriothesley cooed.

“It issss… more difficult, with how little time has passed…” Neuvillette said, “Not… lack of… interesssst.”

“Oh? Does it feel good inside me?” Wroithesley squeezed down around him to punctuate his words.

“…. Yessss…” Neuvillette nodded, and Wriothesley felt him pulse inside him, push a bit further in. He was getting there. He just needed another push.

Wriothesley leaned forwards until their chests touched and took Neuvillette’s rhinophores in both hands. He pulled, so gently, but Neuvillette still mewled and squirmed, pushing out another inch directly into him. The lengths inside him, heavy and swelled with water, felt almost halfway inside now. Wriothesley decided that this was enough for him to move.

Carefully, he rose up on his knees, before settling back down. The pressure of Neuvillette’s flukes pushing him out in every direction was a challenge, but he could feel it stretching him further apart, bit by bit. He started to take up a slow roll, up and down, easing himself further onto Neuvillette as Neuvillette gave him more to work with. He kept petting those sensitive antennae, starting to tug harder, to turn his head and kiss them. Neuvillette’s dulled-clawed hand dug into his hair and held him in place, and Wriothesley started to slide his lips along the rhinophores and suck, wetly, making the sound as loud as possible to make sure he’d hear it.

Neuvillette started to push his hips up to meet Wriothesley’s careful rise and fall. Wriothesley groaned, turned again to nip at the point of his ear. Finally, Neuvillette was getting properly riled up, but he still wanted more.

“Do you want to breed me again, Monsieur? Fill me up?” he asked, his voice soft.

Neuvillette whimpered. “Wriothhhessley-- don’t teassse--”

“Who’s teasing? You want… me… full... with your eggs."

Neuvillette shivered, clutching at his hips now, and drove up harder.

Wriothesley’s head rolled back. “Yes-- like that-- harder-- who knows-- maybe it really will take--”

He rose up again, almost all the way off of Neuvillette, then fell back down, cramming him back inside. The next time he pulled off, Neuvillette pushed further out, and Wriothesley thrust himself onto more of him than he’d had before. He took up a faster, insistent pace, fucking himself open on Neuvillette’s cocks, swollen far bigger than they had any right to be. He pressed Neuvillette back against the tub and tugged on his rhinophores again, getting merciless. The way Neuvillette shook and rolled his body under him, the way his spine arched and twisted in waves, was hypnotic and decidedly inhuman.

Inside Wriothesley, he grew larger. How much more of him was there? Wriothesley wasn’t sure how much more he could take, but that didn’t stop him from slamming himself down harder to see Neuvillette cry out to him, to make him yank his head back when he pulled on his antennae.

“Mine,” Wriothesley chanted, “All mine, Monsieur--”

The stretch of those water-engorged lengths inside him, constant, the flared ridges catching on his entrance, forcing him open in every direction, shoving up into him, was brutal. Neuvillette was going to drive Wriothesley into exhausting himself again, and Wriothesley looked forward to it. The blue-tinged, undulating, scale-kissed body under him looked so fragile, was so sensitive, and yet Neuvillette coursed up into Wriothesley faster.

He could only take so much more of this before he either lost his mind or came hard enough to pass out.

“Close—” Wriothesley urged. “Fuck, Neuvillette, you didn’t even touch me--”

Neuvillette’s body quaked under his. His back arched higher, pressing a stomach that was now significantly more scale than skin up against Wriothesley’s cock, smooth, hard plates rubbing against him. The water around them rose up, away from Neuvillette and Wriothesley, until they were sitting in an almost empty tub with a curtain of water around them. Without the water to cushion him, Wriothesley fell down hard onto Neuvillette with the full force of his weight and then some.

Suddenly impaled, forced so deep inside without warning, Wriothesley came from the shock. His orgasm ripped out of him, shooting over Neuvillette’s chest, hitting his face, his gills, as Wriothesley clenched and shook. And Neuvillette was still fucking him, holding Wriothesley hard enough by the waist to bruise, urging him to fall back onto his cocks again, again, blue light flashing in his eyes, in his rhinophores, as he took him back onto himself.

Wriothesley was dizzy, only not falling over because of Neuvillette holding him firmly in place. Something heavy and smooth wrapped around Wriothesley’s leg-- that was Neuvillette’s tail. The realization forced one last wave of Wriothesley’s climax out of him, washing over Neuvillette again, and then he was spent, fighting for breath, heart thudding loud in his chest, blinking back stars.

The water crashed back down into the tub. Neuvillette’s body slipped underwater, still glowing along his antennae, still taking him. The water meant Wriothesley was no longer being slammed down so hard with the force of his fall, but if anything, Neuvillette was faster in the water. Those waving motions of his torso cracked his hips up into him with absolute surety, still pounding into every sensitive place he had.

Wriothesley was beyond overstimulated. Even his softening dick sliding against Neuvillette’s scales was too sensitive, so the treatment inside was just short of unbearable. The shocks of contact and impossible stretch should have been too much-- were too much-- but the look of absolute rapture on Neuvillette’s face underwater made it impossible for Wriothesley to push away. The caress of those claws on his back-- dangerously close to slicing him open on one side-- felt like something precious.

Wriothesley took as deep a breath as he could, closed his eyes, and pushed himself himself into the water to kiss him. He felt a hand at the back of his head before Neuvillette’s lips pressed over his.

And then he heard the roar. Underwater, Neuvillette’s voice still came through clear, but it sounded different, more echoing, more like whalesong, and it bounced off the walls of the tub and through the water. Wriothesley saw blue light flash through his closed eyelids, and felt Neuvillette burying himself flush inside again, pulsing once before he came into him in waves. Neuvillette rolled against him without drawing back out, every arch shooting another overwhelming rush of cum into him. The tail around Wriothesley’s leg constricted tighter, tighter, until one last shimmy had Neuvillette give the final burst of himself and go still.

Wriothesley was dragged out of the water coughing and sputtering. Neuvillette looked just as bedraggled as he felt, hair stuck to himself, to the tub, to Wriothesley, eyes wide and dark, gills flapping and pushing out water while his chest heaved.

“Wriothhh-- Wriothesssley, that was--” he kissed him, hard, more tooth than mouth. Wriothesley had to pull away to start coughing again.

“Don’t let me-- underwater-- in the bath again. We have to go into the lake where I get the boon of the Goddess and can’t drown,” he rasped. He dropped his head onto Neuvillette’s shoulder and panted, trying to regain his bearings.

Both of them winced as Neuvillette started to retract. His tail unwrapped from Wriothesley’s leg and, in a moment, the bath started to drain.

“… I… am alwayssss... shocked… at what sort of things I end up doing with you,” Neuvillette said quietly, once both of them were breathing steadily enough to speak coherently. “And yet… you… are always pushing yourself, like I want you... to hurt.”

“You don’t?” Wriothesley teased. He pressed a soft kiss to Neuvillette’s gills. “You don’t want me to feel it for days after? Leave marks everyone can see?”

“Ssssso you and everyone else know you’re mine,” Neuvillette sighed. And then he frowned. “See. Thisss is not… how I usually am.”

Wriothesley shrugged. “See, I don’t know why you’re so worried, because-- this should not be a surprise-- I’m really into it. Maybe the way I throw myself onto you brings out the dragon.”

Neuvillette let his head fall back against the tub. The extra scales he’d called up were fading back into his skin. “Maybe. What I did today was… on purpose, but… it did feel easier than usual.”

He wrapped his tail around Wriothesley’s waist. “There is… a lot I do not know. About myself. Dragons are not… common. These days. I cannot just… ask. Easily.”

Wriothesley sat up a little-- grimacing at how this hurt his back-- to look at him. “But there is one you can ask? Or are you…”

“… The only one?” Neuvillette shook his head. “I… met another one. Once. But we were not able to speak on these matters. I only have some words he wrote to advise me on keeping myself healthy and not becoming a father on accident.”

“I guess… in theory, there’s at least six other dragons. Out there. The other sovereigns. Seven?” Wriothesley ventured. He yawned. “There was a dragon from Khaenri’ah, too, right? In the Cataclysm? Everyone thought it killed the East Wind until he came back and started terrorizing Monstadt?”

His history lessons had mostly focused on Fontaine’s side of the war, and Monstadt was almost as far from Fontaine as one could sail, all the way on the other side of Tevyat.

“… That thing,” Neuvillette said, “Could not have been a dragon. I did not fight far enough from home to see it. But their alchemists built it, likely the same way they made the Rifthounds. It looked like a dragon. But it was an Abyssal creature.”

“Why make a dragon, then? To show off?”

“To terrorize Monstadt, who worshipped Dvalin. Or maybe…” Neuvillette said, “… To try and grant themselves legitimacy. An eighth dragon for an eighth nation, despite them having no Archon.”

Wriothesley pulled a face. “But an absolute, archon-denying sovereign of the Abyss wouldn’t have taken orders from scientists. So it wasn’t a real one?”

“Exsssactly.”

The drain of the bathtub gurgled as the tub emptied. Wriothesley could feel Neuvillette’s spend still dripping out of him. Stretched open as he was, he was gaping too much to really be able to stop it.

“… I think I need you to carry me into the shower,” he grumbled.

Neuvillette picked Wriothesley up and did as he asked. Wriothesley felt too heavy, too sore, to move much, and Neuvillette ended up washing him, thoroughly, before refilling the tub and putting him back in to try and soothe his sore muscles.

“I did all that work on your claws and then we didn’t even use them,” Wriothesley complained. “I should’ve asked you to claw me open no matter how desperate I was.”

“That… is probably true,” Neuvillette said, “Pushing into you directly, it seems, was not enough preparation, no matter how slow I went. I am sorry.”

Wriothesley tilted his head to look back at him. “No. No apologizing. I’ve been fantasizing about you doing that to me since the first time I saw those things.”

Neuvillette blushed and went back to petting his hair without another word.

“… And now that we’ve tried it, we’re not doing it again unless I did more prep work in advance,” Wriothesley admitted. “Maybe… it would be fine if they weren’t so big in the water. Why do they do that? Do you know?”

“… I told you. It’s the same as this.” Neuvillette picked up Wriothesley’s hand and showed him his own fingers, which had long since wrinkled up in the water.

Wriothesley snorted. “The hell it is.”

He licked his lips. “So… in the full dragon form… you’re bigger, so…”

“Those are one at a time,” Neuvillette insisted. “Not a discussion point after today.”

“You are being so negative about this,” Wriothesley said, grinning, “Think of it this way, if I can’t walk tomorrow, I have to stay longer. Strict bedrest.”

“…” Neuvillette stared down at him, his eyes raking over his body.

Wriothesley shivered. “That... was a joke, but…”

“But the thought is tempting,” Neuvillette said. “I am beginning to think that we may be dangerous for each other.”

“You cleared your morning schedule for tomorrow though, right?” Wriothesley said. “No harm in sleeping in and taking care of me awhile. And I can tell you like pampering me. You haven’t exactly been subtle about it.”

Neuvillette rested his chin in Wriothesley’s hair. “Yes,” he said, thinking aloud, “I suppose I do like it. Even though you, a man who has no qualms about swallowing me in my own office, seem to find it embarrassing.”

Wriothesley groaned. “I’m my own man. I can take care of myself… usually. Right now, Monsieur, I am at your mercy.”

So he didn’t complain when Neuvillette pulled him out of the bath and toweled him off. Wriothesley was still too sore and sluggish to be able to protest, and the towels here were so soft, and he was exhausted. He was carried back into Neuvillette’s room, put into one of his nightshirts, and tucked into his bed. Snuggled in this luxury, Wriothesley blinked back the sleep pressing on his eyes so he could watch Neuvillette comb his hair out and put on pajamas.

“You put the tail away?” he mumbled.

“As I said before, it is heavy,” Neuvillette said. “And it tends to drag along the ground.”

Still, when he got in bed with him, Wriothesley felt the tail slither across the sheets and wrap around his waist. Before he could think of words to tease him about possessiveness, Wriothesley was fast asleep.

Neuvillette woke with his head on Wriothesley’s chest. He was warm, his chest rising and falling as he breathed slow and easy. The nightshirt he’d put him in had gotten unbuttoned at some point in the night, and so Neuvillette’s face was pressed into his bare skin, pillowed against the muscle there. His thick arms were tight around him, holding him there, and Neuvillette’s tail had wrapped around him a second time.

When Neuvillette had originally kept this morning clear, he’d had hopes of another morning-after encounter, like he’d gotten the first time Wriothesley stayed over. But that was before they agreed to be lovers. And, remembering how sore and weak he’d reduced him to last night… perhaps he would have a large breakfast with him and help him back home.

The idea of carrying Wriothesley all the way to the Fortress of Meropide so everyone could see danced across Neuvillette’s mind. The thought was tempting. He was also sure that Wriothesley would never allow it, and also that it was a breach of decorum that would call Neuvillette’s character into question and possibly shake the people’s faith in the Court’s justice. Neuvillette could hire a carriage to ride back with him. He’d left dark marks higher than intended across Wriothesley’s neck and chest, so everyone would still see who he belonged to--

Neuvillette shook his head and snapped out of it. In every opera he’d ever seen, getting so possessive so fast was something a dark hero romantic lead did, or even an antagonist. The urge to make Wriothesley carry his eggs was new, but this sudden clinginess, he had been told off for in the past. It had been the thing that chased a lover out of his arms more than once.

Wriothesley had told him he liked it. He seemed to think it was… ‘cute’. He sounded, maybe, proud of himself, when he suggested that he might be inspiring the dragon in Neuvillette to come out to center stage. Neuvillette couldn’t shake the thought that he was going to assume too much and take things further than Wriothesley wanted. That the way Wriothesley made him feel wasn’t allowed.

But Wriothesley had insisted he liked it. That he wanted it. Even after how careful Neuvillette had been not to jump to conclusions, making this arrangement a relationship had been Wriothesley’s suggestion.

And so Neuvillette was forced to trust him. He snuggled into the warmth around him and dozed off until he felt Wriothesley stir.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, you seem to think I’ll run away,” he joked, patting Neuvillette’s tail clumsily.

“I woke up this way,” Neuvillette said. “It is normal… to seek out sources of heat…”

“Is that true? Or are you feeling bashful about wanting to cuddle?” Wriothesley asked.

Neuvillette thought. “I think… perhaps… it is both.”

His face felt warm at the admission. Whatever expression he made, it must have been funny, because Wriothesley laughed. Neuvillette sat up and began to unwind his tail.

“Perhaps I should make us some tea,” he said.

“Normally, I’d offer to brew it, but…” Wriothesley sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I’m still not sure I can stand.”

“I’m sorry--” Neuvillette started to say, and then he hissed around the finger Wriothesley held against his mouth.

“I have no regrets. Understand?”

He wouldn’t take his finger back until Neuvillette nodded. Neuvillette stumbled out of bed, rearranged the blankets around Wriothesley again, and went to start some tea. He was under the blankets again while the tea brewed, discussing what to do about breakfast, when the entrance to his apartment slammed open and the rapid sound of heeled shoes clacked across the floor.

Lady Furina was fast approaching.

“Neuvilleeeeeeeette! I saw you canceled with Baron Hugo, so I know you’re here!” Furina opened the door to his room. “Did you see today’s paper? Did you see what they’re saying about me?”

Wriothesley blinked, owlishly, while the Hydro Archon started to pace circles into Neuvillette’s floor.

“Good morning, Furina,” Neuvillette sighed. “No, I have not had the chance to open the paper yet. We have just woken up.” He knew she wouldn’t be listening, and that whatever was bothering her, she would either be out with it or make Neuvillette guess until he had it right.

“The critics are raking Madame Ouiseau across the coals!” Furina shrieked. “They said her performance was trite and derivative! Did they even attend the same opening night as we did?”

“Perhaps they attended a second showing,” said Neuvillette, “Or perhaps your opinion of Madame Ouiseau’s voice is colored by how you feel looking at her in those costumes.”

Furina gasped, her face flashing crimson. “NEUVILLETTE! Just because I have a crush on an opera singer-- excuse me, even if I did have a crush on an opera singer-- how could I ever let that interfere with my strictly objective opinion about her singing? She had the voice of a Celestial messenger or perhaps even a wind sprite. Your Grace, support me, have you been to see--”

And Furina froze as the situation in front of her came crashing into clarity. Her eyes went from Neuvillette and Wriothesley in bed together, to Wriothesley’s open nightshirt, to the bruises on the exposed part of his chest. “Your Grace?”

“Good morning, Lady Furina, it is always an honor,” Wriothesley said.

“Wh-- I-- why are you here? How?” Furina sputtered, pointing at him accusingly. Her hand shook, and she turned and pointed at Neuvillette instead. “Explain at once!”

“His Grace and I are in a relationship, which we formalized only yesterday,” Neuvillette said. “Perhaps, if you paid attention to others’ affairs, you might have noticed I have been meeting with him more frequently, or that this is not the first time he has slept here. Your Grace, support me, have you been to see me several times the past few months?”

Wriothesley had a sharp mind. It did not take much for him to catch on that Furina was the prey in this conversation.

“Support you?” Wriothesley simpered. “After what you did to me last night, Monsieur, I think you ought to be supporting me. I can barely even sit up.”

“What,” Furina said. “But-- you! No! How dare you!”

“How dare he?” Neuvillette said. “What insubordination has Wriothesley shown? You have come into my rooms without knocking. I have advised you against this in the past. I am an adult with my own affairs. You are lucky you did not wait until one of us was dressing.”

“Or, perhaps, undressing again,” Wriothesley said. “If I am so lucky.”

“Or if I am so lucky,” Neuvillette quipped.

Furina looked about ready to boil over. “This-- this cannot be real. You’re-- you’re putting on an act to mock me. You’re trying to tell me off for going where I please in my Palais.”

“Does she usually get so upset when you have a boyfriend?” Wriothesley stage-whispered.

’Boyfriend.’ Neuvillette was swept away by a sudden giddiness.

“Wh-- no! Don’t make that face? How are you making that face? Neuvillette!”

“… Forgive me, My Archon,” Neuvillette made no attempts to fix whatever his face was doing. “So, the star of last week’s opera has been wronged by the press?”

Furina watched with undisguised horror as Wriothesley casually wrapped an arm around Neuvillette’s waist.

“I will have this discussion with you later,” she squeaked. She turned on her heels and hurried away.

Wriothesley started laughing. “That-- that was--”

“… I suppose you have not seen this side of her before,” Neuvillette said. “She can, at times, be quite brash and immature.”

“Apparently,” Wriothesley wheezed, “Oh-- fuck-- laughing hurts--”

His shoulders shook as he tried to calm down.

“Well, that answers the question of how to break the news to her,” Neuvillette said. “I believe the tea is ready.”

Twice more, while they took their tea, Wriothesley collapsed into muffled laughter. He must have been in shock. As dramatic as Furina always was, the side of it that she showed the general public had a bit more… bravado to it.

“Have you been to see the recent showings at the Opera?” Neuvillette asked, once breakfast had been sent for and he could pile meat and dark greens onto Wriothesley’s plate in interest of him regaining his strength quickly.

Wriothesley snorted and shook his head. “No, I don’t go up to take in a show too often. I end up getting home fairly late.”

“A shame,” said Neuvillette, “You have worked hard to earn your title. It seems a shame for you not to enjoy the privileges that come with it.”

“I guess,” Wriothesley said, “But I didn’t go out to become a Duke, and I don’t really look at things that way. The title gives me more authority to do what I need done, which I do take advantage of.”

He wasn’t eating. He’d been put through so much. He needed to regain his strength. Neuvillette put a bite of ham onto his fork and held it up until Wriothesley ate it.

“In two weeks, the Opera will be putting on The Haunting of Madame de Rien, which is one of my favorites,” he said. “Perhaps you could join me that evening.”

“Two weeks? I should be able to make that happen.” Wriothesley opened his mouth for another bite. Neuvillette fed him some eggs.

“Rest assured that it will not be frontlined by Madame Oiseau,” Neuvillette said, “Madame Rien is a high soprano role.”

“Monsieur, I can promise, I barely remember what that means,” Wriothesley said, “Is this Madame Oiseau really that bad, or is Furina’s crush on her just that annoying?”

“I find it… irritating, I think… the way our Archon plays to her favorites, and expects everyone to value them as highly as she does,” Neuvillette said. “Especially when she prizes them over subjective matters and holds it as fact.”

“Sounds like a lot to put up with,” Wriothesley said.

“She is.” Neuvillette fed him a sausage. “I take my task aiding and protecting her seriously. And I am not without fondness for her. But she can be… very much.”

Wriothesley snickered. “Has she barged in on you in bed with a man before?”

“Thankfully, no. I hope she has learned her lesson now.”

He pulled Wriothesley into his lap for the rest of the meal.

“What time do you need to get back?” Neuvillette asked, once breakfast was over and he was helping Wriothesley back into his clothes. He hoped he could see him at least once in the two weeks before their opera viewing.

“I don’t have any hard scheduling for today, but I do have the usual maintenance to oversee. And… probably, a truly harrowing checkup.” Wriothesley grimaced.

Neuvillette patted his hand. “Drink your milkshake and tell Sigewinne thank you.”

“I know, I know. This time I will.” He shifted to press a kiss into Neuvillette’s cheek. “Promise.”

“Dating,” Clorinde said, eyebrows raised, “Just like that?”

“I mean, we had already been hooking up for awhile,” Wriothesley said with a shrug. He held up his glass for more whiskey. Sigewinne frowned at him and gave him a milkshake instead.

Clorinde pursed her lips. “And you did not think to tell me until just now?”

“The very next time I saw you after the first actual date? Which was two days ago? Yes, Clorinde. You are the first person I have told, technically. People who figured it out because of what I looked like coming out of the Palais elevator are just innocent bystanders.”

“I heard it was what you looked like coming out of Monsieur’s office,” Sigewinne said. She watched Wriothesley throw the milkshake back like a shot and then gave him his liquor.

“You guys gossip?” Wriothesley said.

His Head Nurse pouted. “No, gossiping is wrong. Melusines like to keep each other posted on what’s happening in our family!”

“I’m sorry,” Clorinde said, “Go back a bit-- in the Chief Justice’s office?”

Wriothesley raised his glass to her and grinned. “Oh, you know. He was feeling down. So I sat in his lap…”

Sigewinne raised her hand. “His lap? I heard--”

Her put a hand over her mouth. “Gossiping is wrong, Sigewinne.”

Clorinde shook her head, slowly, baffled. “I suppose... congratulations are in order.”

“I make it look pretty easy, huh,” said Wriothesley, “Thanks for the assist telling him about my samovar and getting him to sent the Schneznayan water. We talked about some stuff after that. Did you know he was in the Cataclysm?”

“… I suppose he must have been,” Clorinde said, “He became Chief Justice not long after, and he already looks like an adult in the commemorative portrait. I hadn’t thought that far into it. His specific contributions during the war… weren’t in my history books.”

Of course they wouldn’t be, if Neuvillette had been doing things during the war as the Hydro Dragon, Wriothesley thought. “He sure does look like an adult in that portrait,” he said instead. “I remember, the first time I saw it…”

“When you were arrested? It’s in the Courthouse,” Clorinde said.

Wriothesley scowled. “Can I please tell a dirty joke just once without you fact-checking me? I don’t remember if I noticed the portrait then. I was looking at my hands when they brought me in. My hands locked into cuffs.”

Clorinde’s eyes widened. “… I’m sorry. I… shouldn’t have…”

Wriothesley sighed. “No, you’re fine. We all have… these things. There’s more blood on your hands than mine, and arguably more honorably. Definitely more legally.”

Sigewinne hummed. “And now you two are together,” she said in sing-song. “I bet you never would have guess that when you met.”

Wriothesley shook his head. “I was fifteen and on trial for murder. I only really thought that he was scary.”

It was too quiet in the otherwise empty cafeteria now. Wriothesley kicked Clorinde under the table.

“I got mine,” he told her. “Way harder starting circumstances, too. You next. Go get her.”

Clorinde startled. “No,” she said.

“Oh, come on. Your chances with the Demoiselle are next to nothing if you don’t tell her.”

“They’re nothing either way!”

“Sure, with that attitude. Or: shoot your shot, and maybe you could be caught coming out of her office with rug burns on your--”

It was only two days later when Neuvillette finally received a return letter from Liyue Harbor. He put it into his jacket and waited until he was alone in his own room before opening the envelope.

Dear Monsieur Neuvillette,

I would not worry that your pigeon is sick. It sounds like she is nesting.

Nesting is a behavior pattern that many birds, and other animals, have some version of, where instincts drive the individual to prepare their surroundings for hatching offspring. If the unfocused thoughts you mentioned tend to drift towards tidying up the dovecote, keeping it warm, or making it more secure, this may be a sign. Urges to protect the self or to lean into her nurturing side may also occur.

For animals that live in places with more distinct seasons than Liyue, such as where you live, such a thing may have been triggered if the other factors that tend to encourage egg production-- food, security, prospective mates-- were presented at an increased rate at the right time of year. For instance, if you were looking after reptiles or amphibians, which are known to hibernate in the winter months, this may be more likely to occur in the spring, which is their usual breeding season.

You implied that your pigeon currently has a regular partner? If this is a recent development, especially if there is high chemistry between them, and it had just come on in the spring when you wrote me your last letter, it could be those instincts setting in. If the eggs are still being laid so frequently, try keeping some near the nest she sleeps in rather than discarding them. A nest with something in it can trick the brain into stopping the behaviors early. Otherwise, over time, even if your birds’ relationship continues, the urges should fade with the change of seasons.

Perhaps I was remiss not to mention this in your pigeon-rearing guide. But, at the time I wrote it, you were very young. I did not want to cause you to assume too hastily that your pigeon was in love.

Always your consultant for these matters,
Zhongli

Neuvillette folded the letter back into the envelope and leaned back in his chair, thinking.

Nesting. It would explain some of these symptoms, some of the ones he had not explained to Morax, such as the sorts of things he was saying to Wriothesley in bed. If it would go away on its own in the summer… that was fine.

He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of leaving eggs on his pillow. That seemed like advice that was more practical for a dragon whose eggs had much harder, dryer shells, like he suspected the Geo Dragon would. Maybe if he put them in a bowl on the side table? How soon would he have something in his ovary for Wriothes---

“You are nesting,” Neuvillette told himself, sternly, in the empty room. “Stop that. Be practical.”

He saw Wriothesley again two days after that, hopping down into Meropide after an evening trial with an overnight bag in his hands. He did, indeed, already have something in his ovary for him. Putting the little clutch of eggs into a glass bowl on the side table like poutpurri afterwards felt silly, and Wriothesley wouldn’t stop poking them, but it was better than trying nothing.

Ajax’s body ached in every possible way, but that was not why he could not move. He was restricted by the coils and coils of the heavy, scaled-plated body that had twisted around him while he made love to it. Beautiful dark brown scales, the color of tea, the color of chocolate, the color of earth, the color of dried blood, rimmed and speckled here and there with gold, held him in place. There were three eggs, their gold-and-gray shells smooth as polished jade, larger than potatoes, resting near his head.

Those ones were old. Zhongli had explained that the honeymoon phase of their relationship, which could last the rest of Ajax’s life on the timescale dragons operated on, would inspire his body to keep producing eggs far faster than was convenient for anyone if he did not keep extras around where they slept. Something about smelling them or being around their magic calming his raging dragon hormones, which meant he was only literally cumming rocks about once a week.

The egg inside Ajax was new.

“Xiaaaansheeeng. I tooold you I could dooooo iiiiit,” he giggled.

Zhongli made him drink more water.

“You don’t have to keep holding it,” he said gently. “I know they are heavy. You have already… more than impressed me.”

“If I let go of it, how are you going to get me pregnant?”

“I have already explained that is not how that works.”

The cup was tipped into his lips again. Ajax pouted up at him while he swallowed.

“Maybe I want to hold onto it anyway. I’m a Vision Holder! I can take it!”

“Ajax. You are barely holding onto consciousness. I can help you get it out if you don’t have the strength. But if you fall asleep first, it will be much more difficult to excavate the egg later.”

“Excavate it,” Ajax parroted, giggling again. “Well. It is a dead god’s treasure… how, exactly, could you help me? There’s no way you’re ready to go again this soon to wash it out with more cum.”

“I thought I might use my tongue.”

He shivered. “I’ll allow it…”

Ajax had long since been shooting blanks tonight, but he still made sure to grind his hips back on the long, flat, hot dragon tongue as it dug the egg out of him, and to tell Zhongli he loved him over and over again while he did it.

It wasn’t just that it was true, or just that he had a political interest in remaining Zhongli’s-- well, Morax’s-- well, The Sovereign Dragon of Stone’s lover.

He liked being pretty for him. He liked being good for him. He liked how thoroughly the dragon referred to in songs as “The Beautiful God of War” could absolutely wreck him.

And right now, he keenly felt the need to reassure Zhongli. He knew accepting the dragon-phoenix chopsticks, a Liyuean symbol of marital bliss, that he had received tonight, was not enough.

But the Tsaritsa would never allow them to marry. Harbingers had to ask permission to have families at all, or even create children out of wedlock.

(Scaramouche had asked Tartaglia what it felt like, signing over the rights to his balls. Tartaglia hoped that horrible boy befell something tragic that made everyone forget he ever existed, and had asked him if creepy puppets even had balls to begin with.)

(It turned out that no, creepy puppets created to house the spirit of the Raiden Shogun did not have balls, but they could sure as hell choke someone with their thighs until they passed out with a dislocated neck. And come all over Tartaglia’s face while he was unconscious.)

(Anyway.)

But even if Ajax asked his Goddess outright if he could please marry his ex-god, adeptus, dragon boyfriend, the answer would always be no. Even if Ajax were not a Harbinger, the answer would still be no.

Men did not marry other men in Schneznaya.

In Liyue, “cut-sleeve lovers” were part of their rich cultural history, and Ajax had a suspicion that the beautiful sleeping boy that long-ago Qixing had destroyed his own clothes rather than wake up in the folktale had been Zhongli. Inazuma’s sword schools had a tradition where a student a year or two older might take a junior student as a lover, on the pretext of learning how to handle every kind of blade. Mondstadt, the land of freedom, was known for wine, beer, being windy, barmaids with huge tits, and men of all ages and sizes in very short lederhosen. Sumeru was the origin of the Eremite love stories that featured strong, beautiful men wearing blindfolds carrying away other men on their backs to make their brides. Natlan’s war songs implied that every general was the object of their soldiers’ affection, regardless of the genders involved. And Fontaine was so well-known for open homosexuality that it was considered the primary destination to find a pretty girl with a complicated hairstyle to cut off all her fingernails for you.

But the Tsaritsa demanded the absolute obedience, loyalty, and hearts of her followers. Marriage was a covenant to Her Majesty before it was a promise to each other. And any marriage, regardless of gender, that would not produce tall, strong Schneznayan babies to join the Fatui and build the walls of ice around the cities, was simply pointless. It followed that other types of relationships were abhorrent and never acknowledged in public.

“… Xiansheng?” Ajax asked quietly. “Zhongli?”

Zhongli, who had been carefully wiping off the egg to put on a little stand on their bedside table… that was cute, actually… paused and turned back to him.

“Yes, Ajax?”

“How do dragons… pair off?”

Zhongli’s reptilian face crumbled, first metaphorically, as his blissful expression fell, and then literally, as the scales folded in on themselves and disappeared, and he became the beautiful older man Ajax had fallen in love with when he first came to Liyue.

“Do they not?” Ajax urged.

“… Some dragons do,” he said. “Just as how only some animals live as mated pairs, and some humans decide to live as confirmed bachelors… some dragons become each other’s primary treasure, and are life partners.”

He lied down next to Ajax, naked as he was, but pristine and without injury while Ajax was scratched and bruised and bitten all over.

“… So…” Ajax said, “What is that like?”

Zhongli sighed, suddenly so old, so weary. He gathered Ajax’s near-broken body close and held him gently against his chest.

“… They exchange scales,” he said. “Each dragon removes a scale… usually from the side of the neck, sometimes elsewhere, and they use their elemental power to graft them onto each other in the gap. Even when the skin is shed, the scale will still grow in that color and shape.”

Ajax nodded, slowly. “… So everyone can see. Like… a wedding ring.”

“Ajax...” Zhongli kissed the top of his hair, likely so he could hide his face from him. “I can’t ask that of you.”

“Why not? Because I don’t have a scale to give back? Or because there isn’t a good place to put one on me?”

“… Yes, technically… but you know that isn’t the real reason.”

Ajax’s eyes stung, and his vision blurred. Funny, he’d been more than happy to be crying much harder just an hour ago. “She wouldn’t know I had it. And I wouldn’t ask her first. Since it’s not marriage.”

“I can’t put you in that kind of danger. I know I will lose you to time, one day. Or to your work. But I will not do anything to speed that process up.”

“Please?” Ajax whispered. “Let me do this for you. I’ll keep it somewhere safe.”

“Please,” Zhongli said back to him, “Do not tempt me with this.”

Ajax pulled back and made Zhongli look him in the face. He looked miserable. Pained. It hurt him, seeing him like this.

“We can make a contract,” he said quietly.

“… Ajax…”

“No, look at me, Xiansheng. I’ll promise not to tell or explain. And-- I’ll give you something you want in return.”

Zhongli shook his head. A tear, smelling of limestone, trickled down his cheek. “Do not try… and use my ways against me.”

“You keep forgetting I am a terrorist and a master manipulator,” Ajax said, with far less bite than those words should have carried. “I’ll tell you something I know you want to hear.”

“Ajax--”

“– I asked Her Majesty about the dragon frozen in the glacial gardens.”

“… What?”

“When I went back to Tsaritsagrad for the funeral. I asked her. I’ll tell you, word for word, what she said. I promise you won’t feel cheated by this deal.”

Zhongli went still. Save for the tears, he may well have been a statue.

“I…” he took a deep, shaking breath, “I need… proper stationary.”

Bingo.

“Stationary, Xiansheng?” Ajax asked sweetly.

“Such an auspicious contract… must be written on the correct paper.” Zhongli explained.

“Of course. I will get it for you. We can go to whatever shops you prefer in the morning… Is there anything else we need?”

“… Ink. The highest possible grade, ground with Cor Lapis, and hued for celebratory agreements. And we must burn the proper incense…”

“You two can both still sit in my box with me,” Furina whined, trying to block Neuvillette from getting into his carriage. “You’ve seen this opera plenty of times. Don’t you want to put your boyfriend in the best seat in the house?”

“I already reserved tickets for a private box,” Neuvillette impressed. “Unless, perhaps, you were hoping to observe His Grace and I holding hands and whispering to each other from very close up?”

Furina stamped her foot. “Better than sitting by myself!”

Neuvillette stepped around her and got into the carriage. “You will not be by yourself. Clorinde will be with you.”

“She’s my bodyguard. She works for me!”

“And so, my Archon, do I. But not tonight.”

The carriage started off, clattering as the meka horse that drove it clinked along.

Every time Neuvillette had managed to meet Wriothesley for dinner, or coffee, or in front of the Opera Epiclese after a trial to walk to one of their homes together, anyone they met did not see any special implication to their being in the same place. They all assumed they were discussing business, unless they were outright caught kissing. And even then, no one seemed to be talking about it, so the pattern continued.

Neuvillette was finding this recurring sequence of events… disappointing? Frustrating, maybe. He had been so worried about scandal breaking out and harming Wriothesley that he didn’t know how to process this situation. Al the warnings he’d given him that he could be in danger, and absolutely nothing had happened except that the Champion Duelist now behaved slightly more warmly towards him.

Appearing together at the Opera Epiclese, to watch a performance or a trial, was a very public way to make a relationship known. Surely this would do the trick and people would figure it out. Neuvillette appearing in public in formalwear that was not his robes would be a strong hint, wouldn’t it? Was his evening suit with the opera shawl sufficient?

(Wriothesley would like it. Wriothsley had tried more than once to convince Neuvillette to put his boots back on for sex after undressing, and this suit featured tight trousers and even higher boots than he usually wore. Perhaps, this time, he could be convinced--)

Wriothesley was waiting outside the entrance to Meropide in a red and black ensemble that made him look like a melodramatic hero, or perhaps even the princely lead of some classic tragedy. The long coat had been traded for a cape with a fur shawl collar, and Neuvillette was sure he had not seen Wriothesley wear evening gloves even for his own transfer-of-title ceremony, but he was tonight.

Wriothesley did not attempt to seduce Neuvillette in the carriage, beyond a few kisses with his greeting. But he smiled in a sly way when he took Neuvillette’s arm as they entered the opera house together, and Neuvillette knew that the Duke knew exactly how good he looked, and that he was about to be in for a night of trouble.

“Your Grace!” called an usher. “I never thought I’d see you here!”

“I come here all the time,” Wriothesley called back, “At the end of trials! I believe I came here personally to pick you up once! How in the world did you get your job back?”

The usher laughed. “They just don’t let me into the safe room or near the bar anymore, Your Grace!”

Ah. Yes. The theft case from three years ago. This man was Antoine Montagne, and Neuvillette was also surprised he had been re-hired.

“Glad to see you’re doing well,” Wriothesley told the him. “Though, perhaps, not as well as I am.”

He leaned his head on Neuvillette’s shoulder. The usher gaped like a fish.

“You two--”

“Have a good evening, Antoine!” Wriothesley blew the usher a kiss and pulled Neuvillette towards the stairs.

“That should start the rumor mill going,” he murmured, looking up at him through his lashes. “Without me parading around any… battle scars. That was what you wanted, right?”

Neuvillette’s cheeks felt hot. “I… have had some… frustrations, yes.”

Their box was one intended for small families or couples-- rather than separate chairs, it had one love seat, and was stocked with a tray of finger foods, a small arrangement of liquor, and the crystal bottle of water drawn from Luhua Pool that the opera’s staff knew Neuvillette preferred to sip while taking in a show. With the door blocked by a heavy velvet curtain, they had the illusion of a private space to watch the performance… if they ignored that anyone on stage or in the boxes on the other side of the opera would be able to see them. Neuvillette had chosen this box for the couples’ chair, its excellent view, and the fact that its position meant that Lady Furina would not be able to see them from her own seat in the place of honor.

Wriothesley took Neuvillette’s coat and sat right next to him with a knowing smile.

“You want to put me on display,” he crooned. His hand slid across Neuvillette’s knee.

“Within reason,” Neuvillete said. He picked up the hand and put it back into Wriothesley’s lap. “This particular opera is also one of my favorites, and the actress performing the role of the grand matriarch was the original talent for the lead role, when it premiered thirty years ago. I think you will enjoy the themes of mind games and intrigue.”

“I am known for my enjoyment of mind games,” Wriothesley said. “Now, let’s get settled in… water, Monsieur? What is Luhua Pool’s flavor like?”

Neuvillette was so eager to explain to Wriothesley that the terraced subsections of Luhua Pool allowed flavors to layer over each other in ways that were never exactly the same from any particular bottle, or even from sip to sip, that Wriothesley had to nudge him when the lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play.

The Haunting of Madame de Rien was the tale of a flower of high society, who loved to manipulate her beaus, friends, and family, until she died of shock (or, perhaps, of joy) when two knights (one Sir and one Dame) locked themselves in a duel for her affections, in front of her husband, right in the foyer of her family’s mansion.

But this was only the first act. Across the second and third acts, people who came through the mansion found letters, notes, lipstick marks, and all other matter of signs of Madame de Rien’s presence. The soprano playing her would appear unexpectedly in funerary garb during almost every scene to comfort, flirt with, or scold with the people in the room. One of the knights went mad and smashed open Madame de Rien’s mausoleum, convinced she had not died and was trying to reach him, but the skeleton in the shroud was undeniably hers.

The end of the opera was a second funeral as the people who loved her laid their feelings to rest, presided by an exorcist from Liyue just in case. The funeral was also two weddings-- the gentleman knight with Madame de Rien’s widower, and the lady knight with Madame de Rien’s elder sister, who had always carried feelings for her. The reprise of the song from the first act’s duel scene, but now in major key instead of minor, was the final number.

It was truly a breathtaking performance, better than any other, except for the first and final showings of the original run, and Neuvillette was transfixed, save for the fact that Wriothesley would not stop touching his thigh. He seemed to be paying attention enough to the show, reacting to the performance, but his hand, warm through his glove and Neuvillette’s trousers, kept tracing up the complicated lacings on Neuvillette’s boots and threatening to untie them, or dipping the fingers just inside, or kneading the thickest part of his legs.

“Is the show not to your liking?” Neuvillette asked, during the first intermission.

“I don’t know why you would ask that,” said Wriothesley, “You were right, I am enjoying the scheming, and the singing is top-notch.”

“Why, then, the wandering hands?” Neuvillette grabbed Wriothesley’s wrist again when his fingers started to drift towards him.

“Well, you have seen the show before. I thought you might be bored.” The Duke smiled sweetly. “Besides, the Opera is about indulgence. We see the show, we enjoy the food, and the drinks, and I have some interest in the other delicacies on offer.”

“My legssss are not on offer in a public sssspace,” Neuvillette tried to say, but Wriothesley’s smile turned all too mischievous when the hiss escaped through his teeth.

“Oh? Perhaps I am the delicacy on offer, Monsieur?”

Since Wriothesley would not cease with his antics, Neuvillette was forced to hold him in his lap for the second act. This, of course, was not the grand play he thought it was at the time. Wriothesley was happy to lean on him and cuddle, but every once in awhile, he would shift, on pretense of adjusting in his seat, and this action always seemed to grind Wriothesley’s ass down onto him in an incredibly suggestive manner. No one who was peering at them in their box would know what Wriothesley was doing, other than being held in his lap, but Neuvillette was sure that he could hear the way his heart thudded in his chest.

Neuvillette let go of him during the second intermission and left to wash his hands, using the finger foods he’d been eating as an excuse, but Wriothesley followed him, since he had eaten them too. He would not give him a moment of peace, and even went so far as to grab the hand towel in the washroom and dry his hands for him, making eye contact that felt far too intimate, especially when the door opened and two young men whose hands were actually covered in what looked like tomato soup came to rinse off.

(“Father is going to scold you again if you can’t eat neatly,” the taller one told the other.)

(“I’m sorry. I was just so startled when the ghost appeared--”)

(“And now Lynette will eat all the the chocolates while we’re away! You are waiting on her sickbed if she gets another tummy ache.”)

“Oh, Monsieur, Your Grace,” called the taller of the two youths, as Neuvillette was opening the door to leave, “Congratulations. I must say, you make quite the handsome couple. I’m sure half the city’s bachelors will be crying into their newspapers tomorrow morning.”

“Aw,” Wriothesley chuckled, “Yourself included? I wish I could say I was sorry.”

Neuvillette couldn’t figure out why, but the boy’s smile in response felt more like a threat than anything else.

“How cruel, Your Grace. Though I’m sure you’re both used to breaking hearts.”

Neuvillette held Wriothesley’s arm more to regain his composure more than anything else.

“Who was that?” he asked, when they were back alone in the relative safety of their box. “Does that young man have a criminal record? I do not recall ever judging him, but I do not oversee many more minor cases.”

“I… don’t know,” Wriothesley said. “As far as I can remember, he’s never visited Meropide. But someone in his family could have. It would explain what he said.”

The next day, on the third page of the Steambird, there would be an article about a man who had been attempting to blackmail the local branch of the Northland Bank only getting caught for extorting funds from other banks because he slipped in a bowl of tomato soup that an unnamed teenager dropped. When he fell, several incriminating papers slid out of his pocket and into the path of two Marechausee detectives who were there to watch the show.

With their strange washroom encounter having the same effect on them that a cold shower would, Wriothesley and Neuvillette chastely held hands for the third act, with their gloves on, until the dramatics of the final scenes led to them leaning against each other.

“… Truly, a memorable performance,” Neuvillette murmured. “I will have to pen the cast my regards later.”

“And I’m sure they’ll fight over who gets to keep the paper,” Wriothesley teased. “You seem quite overcome, Monsieur. How is the weather outside?”

“It is not raining,” Neuvillette said. “… Perhaps a bit misted over.”

“Does that mean anything?”

“It means it is chilly outside.”

They collected their things and headed out into the hallway.

“Your Grace! Monsieur Neuvillette!”

A young woman holding a Kamera ran into their path. “I really am sorry to disturb you, but I must ask-- you have been seen sitting rather close tonight! Do you have a moment to give a few words of comment for the paper?”

“Can’t two men go to the opera without getting hounded for quotes?” said Wriothesley. “You’re a reporter, right?

She was ruffled momentarily, but pressed on. “Yes, I-- I work for the Steambird. Here is my badge-- I was asked to cover for the usual entertainment section talent, but I couldn’t help but see you two from where I was sitting. You turned quite a few heads tonight!”

“Did we,” Neuvillette said. He wrapped an arm around Wriothesley’s waist. “Did you take any pictures of us?”

“… My press permit only allows me to take pictures of the stage while the show is in progress,” said the reporter. “Which makes sense, of course. And I would never publish anything without strong evidence and verification--”

“That is all right, Miss.” Neuvillette shifted closer to Wriothesley, who slung an arm over his neck. “As the show is over, you may take a picture now.”

The reporter blinked. “It’s not the same if you’re posing for it, but it goes against my ethics to ask for false candids…”

“Giving news away for free, Monsieur?” Wriothesley tutted. “Miss, you can take the picture if you promise to send me a copy.”

The girl positively squealed with joy. “Thank you, thank you, Your Grace! Do you have any comments to make on the events of tonight?”

Wriothesley snuggled into Neuvillette’s side, thinking. The longer they stood like this, the more stiff and uncomfortable Neuvillette felt. Perhaps allowing a picture to be taken was a mistake? But this would certainly get the news and. And… he also wanted a copy. He hadn’t been photographed with Wriothesley yet.

“… I think tonight’s show was a true masterwork, and I can understand why Neuvillette spoke so highly of it,” Wriothesley said. “I do not often attend the opera, but perhaps I should make an effort to more often.”

“Neuvillette,” the reporter muttered, “Just Neuvillette, no titles-- ahem. Chief Justice, do you have anything to add?”

“No,” Neuvillette decided, “I believe Wriothesley has said it already. But I would also like a copy of your photograph.”

“Of course. Just Wriothesley. Of course! I’ll send copies to both of your offices by end of day tomorrow!”

The Kamera’s flash blinded Neuvillette for a moment, but he hardly minded.

They crossed paths with Furina and Clorinde, who was attending as her bodyguard, on the steps outside the opera while they waited for their carriages.

“How did you like the show? Did you have a good time without me?” Furina asked, her hands on her hips. “Perhaps we could all ride back together.”

Clorinde coughed. “I do not think that is a good idea, My Lady.”

“Oh? Why ever not?”

“Well…”

“Because I have behaved myself very well tonight,” Wriothesley answered, before Clorinde had to, “And, with all due respect, I think I may not be able keep my manner for much longer.”

Clorinde slapped a hand over her own face and Furina hid behind her.

“Just-- go. Ew. Go, and get a room!”

Wriothesley was on him the moment they got into the carriage. Neuvillette barely had time to shut the drapes.

“That was an order from our Goddess. She said to get a room,” Wriothesley purred.

“A carriage is not a room,” said Neuvillette, even as he wrapped his arms around Wriothesley and pulled him down to him.

The carriage was pulled by a meka steed and a meka driver. There was no one to disturb as long as the carriage was not stopped. And while Neuvillette had managed to keep his hemipenes sheathed when Wriothesley was playing with his leg all through the first act, the effort to stay together had him still wet and tender inside. Wriothesley only had to jam a hand between them and squeeze before Neuvillette whined and started to slide out.

“I behaved myself,” Wriothesley said, “Didn’t I?”

“For the mossst part--” Neuvillette hissed. “Pleassse-- wait til we return--”

He was able to move Wriothesley’s hands away, but he was not particularly motivated to push him off his lap, or to stop kissing him, or to let go of him in any way. Neuvillette was half out by the time the carriage reached the Palais Mermonia. He somehow managed to walk calmly and gracefully up the steps and into the elevator before Wriothesley crashed him into the wall, licking into his mouth, hands between his legs to feel Neuvillette slithering out in his pants. It was through incredible luck that no one entered the elevator on the way up to Neuvillette’s floor.

They did not even make it to Neuvillette’s bed, falling over each other onto the couch in the front room.

“Show me your hands,” Wriothesley panted, already working a hand into his pants, pulling him out into the air.

Neuvillette bashfully held up ten blunted claws.

“Oh, perfect,” Wriothesley breathed.

Neuvillette fidgeted. “I--”

“Yes, Monsieur?”

“I… I knew… you might teassssse… during the sssshow.”

“And you didn’t want to wait for me to file them down for you?” Wriothesley kissed him soundly.

“No—” Neuvillette shivered. “I-- did not wisssssh-- to wait at all.”

There was a scramble for Wriothesley’s pants that ended with them still hanging off of one leg while Neuvillette worked a claw into him, the bare leg slung over Neuvillette’s hip and pressed against his emerging cocks while he got to work. Neuvillette took off his cravat with his other hand-- exerting himself with his gills trapped by his clothes uncomfortable-- and let Wriothesley grope at his waistcoat and shirt buttons while he rocked onto Neuvillette’s fingers.

Wriothesley’s rough hands and blunt nails scraped over scale and scratched red lines into skin, pulled at his nipples (“such a pretty blue, Monsieur--”), and kneaded at his waist. The slime trail against Wriothesley’s broad thigh grew thicker with impatience and Neuvillette tugged on himself to get more lubricant onto his hand before rolling his claws into Wriothesley harder, prying him open.

“Need to get-- insssside,” he hissed, and Wriothesley nodded and slung the bare leg over the couch. Neuvillette pressed just one cock into him first, growling at the softness, the heat and the pressure, but only giving himself a few delicious thrusts to check his work before drawing back out so he could give Wriothesley both of his lengths. It had been enough times now that Neuvillette knew that neither he nor Wroithesley was set to last particularly long.

“We’ll take our time-- in the morning,” he promised, sliding into him with one long, careful thrust. He felt their hips meet and paused, giving them both a moment to get used to the stretch. Folded over the arm of his couch, still wearing most of his opera finery, Wriothesley was flushed and sweating, fighting to keep still, and he was all his.

“Monsieur, I will admit, I was hoping I would get you riled up, but to see you all business this way is still a gift,” Wriothesley groaned, shifting his hips against his. “Go ahead--”

Neuvillette kept the first few thrusts gentle. He trusted Wriothesley with his life, but he did not want to wear him out because he misjudged what he could handle again. He didn’t want to hurt him, he just wanted to make it so everyone knew who he belonged--

Neuvillette shuddered and took him faster. He needed to focus-- focus on Wriothesley, and these temporary, secondary urges, he needed to set aside, and Wriothesley was perfect inside, like he was made for him-- wait, no--

“You’re driven tonight,” Wriothesley chuckled, breathless, “Did showing me off make you happy? Making sure they knew?”

Why did he always lean into these ideas even when Neuvillette didn’t say anything? How did he always know?

“Yessss—” Neuvillette hammered into him, frantic now, “Made ssssure-- they knew-- you’re mine--”

“Next time-- maybe you’ll be the one playing with me in the box seating-- really let them see--”

Wriothesley’s smile was wicked, and Neuvillette could imagine it, holding him up for everyone to view while he took him, legs spread wide, and Wriothesley would moan like this, but the audience would know, they would know he was Neuvillette’s, and if he could fill him up enough, there would only ever be room for Neuvillette inside--

Neuvillette roared out his approval and buried himself into Wriothesley while he came. He tasted blood-- he wasn’t sure when he’d bitten into Wriothesley’s shoulder-- and Wriothesley clutched at his back under the shirt he was still mostly wearing, urging him on, his soft, blunt nails raking over his spine.

“Oh, Arch-- Neuvillette, Neuvillette--”

With all his claws smoothed, it was no risk for Neuvillette to touch him, even if his hands were clumsy while he was still shooting deep into him, and he grabbed at Wriothesley’s cock and tugged it, fast, feeling it throb hot in his hand, slicked by sweat and Neuvillette’s lubricant, and he was coming too, calling his name, bursting all over his hand, and Neuvillette whipped his hips down again and he felt something inside him clench.

Eggs spilled into Wriothesley, and Neuvillette lost his balance from the force with which they came. He was reduced to shaking and hissing in Wriothesley’s arms while he emptied out into him, until he felt himself getting crowded out. There were still too many, and Neuvillette swore he could feel Wriothesley’s stomach swelling under his.

Neuvillette’s hips finally slowed. He was shivering, still wearing most of his suit, and gasping like a fish out of water. When he felt his cocks start to retract, he belatedly thought about everything he’d just deposited into Wriothesley, their nice clothes, this couch, and the rug underneath it, and he whimpered.

“I think…” he rasped, “I think… putting the eggssss in the bowl isssn’t working.”

“Do I seem…” Wriothesley groaned, as the cocks slipped out of him, “Do I-- seem to mind?”

“… Not particularly…” Neuvillette licked at the circle of bite marks in Wriothesley’s shoulder. “… I sssshould ssstill move usss. Try to hold it in.”

He carried Wriothesley to the shower with his knees knocking together. As drained as he felt, Wriothesley was, more or less, unharmed, which meant he got embarrassed and made Neuvillette give him privacy while he cleaned himself out. So Neuvillette crawled into bed and waited for him, still catching his breath.

Wriothesley all but fell onto bed when he came out of the shower, and yet he was the one who gathered him into his arms and pressed soft kisses into his face, murmuring praises, until sleep took him, and Neuvillette was left alone with his thoughts.

He had questions now he wasn’t sure he was bold enough to ask his friend at Wangsheng funeral parlor. But he hadn’t been warned of any extra health risks related to the nesting, so maybe… maybe it would be all right. In the summer, he’d calm down a little, and until then, if the side effects wouldn’t go away, maybe it was better to let himself enjoy it.

Chapter Text

Wriothesley woke up long after the sun had risen to a mouthful of gray hair. At some point in the night, Neuvillette had rolled-- or maybe slithered-- onto him, wound his arms and tail around him, and nuzzled his face under Wriothesley’s chin. He’d said something about reptiles seeking out heat sources before. Wriothesley wondered if Neuvillette ever basked in the sun. Did he get-- ha-- sluggish, in the cold months, like turtles did?

Wriothesley tried to sit up and Neuvillette stirred, giving off a soft growl of complaint.

“It’sssss still early,” he grumbled.

Wriothesley looked at the clock. No, it wasn’t.

“Looks like I’m the one who tired you out this time,” he said, petting the tangled hair. “How do you get breakfast here? I don’t even know where the kitchen is.”

“There is a cord to pull for a bell in the kitchens.” Neuvillette unwound his arms from Wriothesley and rolled off of him so he could sit up. “They often send staff to confirm with me, so perhaps…”

He climbed off the bed, still blinking back sleep. His tail dragged along the floor as he rooted through the armoire for a nightshirt. Wriothesley went to retrieve the overnight bag he’d sent ahead the day previous.

“You could have borrowed a dressing gown,” said Neuvillette. “We have all morning. I have no early appointments and today’s trials do not begin until after teatime.”

“You just want them to see me in your pajamas and robe,” Wriothesley teased.

Neuvillette held out his dressing gown and the nightshirt Wriothesley usually wore when he slept over.

He laughed. “You won’t even deny it? I don’t know if I’m ready for your staff to see me in dishabille, Monsieur.”

“… Yes. Of course.” Neuvillette pulled the clothes back against himself. “This is not a good impulse.”

“Oh, now you’ll make me feel guilty. Give that here.”

Wriothesley put the dressing gown on over his clothes and Neuvillette went to ring the bell. Rather than waiting in bed for a maid to arrive, he spoke briefly with a Melusine who came to the apartment’s front door. By the time Wriothesley had tea brewing and made a point of appreciating out loud that Neuvillette’s tea stash had mysteriously doubled in size in the last week, a cart laden in plates and plates of food arrived, along with that morning’s edition of the Steambird.

Neuvillette picked up the newspaper and Wriothesley sat next to him to read over his shoulder while he turned to the socials page.

Their photograph was front and center of the section. It was a nice picture, really. Neuvillette had been a fine thing in his opera suit, and the way he and Wriothesley leaned in to put an arm around each other made for a good pose. The article was titled:

MONSIEUR NEUVILLETTE SEEN ESCORTING DUKE WRIOTHESLEY TO THE OPERA

Last night, at the premier of this season’s production of The Haunting of Madame de Rien, Fontaine’s Chief Justice was in attendance. Rather than joining Lady Furina in her reserved seating, as he is known to do, he reserved a couples’ box the week prior. Opera Epiclese staff who learned of this reservation were under assumption that this was for entertaining a foreign diplomat, or perhaps celebrating a Melusine’s birthday. At the premier, his guest was revealed to be Duke Wriothesley, the administrator of the Fortress of Meropide. Any thought that this was a bachelors’ night out was disproved when Duke Wriothesley spent the entirety of the second act seated in Monsieur Neuvillette’s lap. Monsieur Neuvillette was observed holding up his water glass for His Grace to drink from, and, in at least one instance, ate a chocolate out of His Grace’s hand.

(Any photographs in circulation of this were not taken by any reporter from the Steambird, which always honors requests that photographs taken during shows only feature the cast and crew. The Steambird does not use photographs taken outside of legal means, nor does it use photographs taken outside of its agreements with the populace.)

Any doubts as to the nature of this meeting can be assuaged by their words with this reporter on their way out of the venue after the end of the show. When asked about the events of the evening, Duke Wriothesley said, “I think tonight’s show was a true masterwork, and I can understand why Neuvillette spoke so highly of it. I do not often attend the opera, but perhaps I should make an effort to more often.” Monsieur Neuvillette, when asked for comment, said he had nothing to add to this statement, but addressed His Grace without honorifics in turn.

The Chief Justice and Administrator of Meropide have been observed in public with slightly more frequency of late. While rumors have circulated that some sort of trouble was brewing, it seems now that what these two pillars of our justice system are scheming is not among the weeds of politics, but the blooms of romance.

“… I thought so. ” Wriothesley tapped the paper with his finger. “That reporter-- I knew I’d seen her before. Mademoiselle Charlotte is an investigative journalist. I’ve seen that pink hair flashing in the crowd at the releases of high-profile prisoners. She meant it when she said she was covering for the usual arts and entertainment writer.”

“She certainly looked into us quite thoroughly, to have this much information gathered so fast,” Neuvillette said. “When do you think we will receive our copies of the photograph?”

Wriothesley patted the back of his hand. “She’ll follow through on her promise. Maybe they’re already in the post. Right now, I’m a little more curious about whatever gossip rag managed to take a picture of you licking chocolate off my fingers.”

Neuvillette blushed. “I did not lick your fingers. I took the one chocolate you fed me between my teeth without so much as touching your hand.”

“Oh, you’re right,” said Wriothesley, “What a shame. We shall have to fix this.”

He picked up a scone from the breakfast selection laid on the table and held it out. Neuvillette took a bite, but Wriothesley got the distinct impression that this was done to humor him, and not out of true flirtation.

And then the dragon’s stomach grumbled loud enough for Wriothesley to hear, and they detached from each other to eat normally.

Well… normally, Wriothesley suspected, for Neuvillette. Other than the tray of scones, there were two small ramekins of crab meat baked into eggs with cheese, puff pastries full of savory whipped cream and lobster, the butteriest, softest brioches Wriothesley had ever eaten, crepes filled with fresh fruit--

“Okay, I’ve woken up here before,” Wriothesley said, uncovering another tray to discover the platonic ideal of a pain aux chocolat, “This is not what we usually have. What’s going on?”

Neuvillette looked at the feast spread across their table.

“I hadn’t realized,” he said. “I only asked for two of what I would usually have. While I do eat a larger breakfast than the average Fontainian, and these are many of my preferred breakfast dishes…”

“Do you think it has something to do with those?” Wriothesley gestured to the vase bursting with Rainbow Roses in every color that had also been on their cart.

Neuvillette paused. “… There are no Melusines who work in the kitchen,” he said slowly. “Which may mean… that the chefs did not know about our relationship.”

“… Then the newspaper we were given without you asking… is a sign that the kitchen staff is congratulating us,” Wriothesley said, “Since Miss Charlotte’s article was in the paper, and you asked for two breakfasts.”

“Some of these dishes take far longer to prepare than it took for them to arrive,” Neuvillette pointed out, gesturing to the lobster puffs. “I suspect someone saw the article and the kitchen was whipped into a frenzy.”

Wriothesly grinned. “Or they realized you were awake later than usual, on top of coming home with me. Maybe they figured you needed more energy. It would have been faster for them to whip up an omelet and write congrats on the sex on it in catsup...”

Neuvillette placed a tart topped with baked apple slices arranged to resemble a rose in front of Wriothesley. “You, clearly, do not need more energy, if you can get this fresh right after we woke up.”

“I woke up with a naked man plastered to me,” Wriothesley said. “How are you so calm and collected? Did you get so spent last night that you can’t come back out yet?”

He picked up one of the crepes in his hands to eat it, letting jam and whipped cream run down his hands so he could make a show of licking it off.

Neuvillette stared, frozen, his fork halfway to his mouth. “I… am not so tired as you think,” he said. “Though… while you took a proper shower before bed last night, I just wiped myself down, and I have trials in the afternoon.”

“Well, before you wash up, and after this incredibly luxurious meal,” Wriothesley said, “Should we spend some time doing what your chefs think we’re up to?”

After taunting Neuvillette for the rest of the meal, Wriothesley ended up on his knees in the shower. The hot spray against his back felt heavenly after he’d been folded and laminated like puff pastry over Neuvillette’s couch the last night, and shielding Neuvillette from the water meant that his cocks wouldn’t swell so big that Wriothesley couldn’t swallow one once they were out. He licked along the edge of Neuvillette’s vent to try and suck him directly into his mouth, but when this encouraged the lubricant to well up faster and for Neuvillette to choke on his breath and grind against his face, Wriothesley dipped his tongue inside.

It tasted, like the inside of Neuvillette’s mouth, mostly like water, though the consistency of the slick was much thicker. He could feel the shafts pressed together inside their vent, pulsing with Neuvillette’s heartbeat, sliding out against Wriothesley’s cheeks on either side of his face. When Wriothesley dug his tongue lower, he found Neuvillette’s balls inside a lower subsection of the sheathe, and he hollowed out his cheeks sucking the soft, sticky things into his mouth, rolling them against his tongue while Neuvillette yanked at his hair and nearly lost his balance.

Wriothesley had no trouble taking one of Neuvillette’s cocks in both hands and pushing one down his throat once he figured out again how to twist his head to cram the flukes past his teeth safely. The moans that hissed their way through Neuvillette’s teeth were delicious, but Wriothesley was simply too full from such a large breakfast to swallow when he came. He pulled back and opened his mouth while he kept tugging on him with his hands so Neuvillette came all over his face, dripping down his chin and off his tongue. Neuvillette stared, entranced, his other cock still hard and weeping from the slit. In short order, Wriothesley found himself up against the shower wall with his ass in Neuvillette’s hands, feet dangling, with Neuvillette using his tail to brace himself against the opposite wall while he took him with a driven sort of desperation.

They had to take a nap before it was time for Wriothesley to leave.

The glacial gardens behind the Imperial Palace in Tsaritsagrad were painfully cold. Various statues were carved out of snow in some sections, and in others, specimens were frozen in large slabs of ice. Many were beautiful plants-- vibrant flowers and trees that would never survive here. Ajax remembered being shown these things as part of his recruitment tour for the Fatui. The promise to see the world, and take in all of Tevyat’s beauty, was tempting for many Schneznayan youths.

Further in, down the maze of paths, there were some sections that always seemed to be blocked by snowflurries on the days the gardens were open to the public. These frozen specimens were animal life. Brightly colored birds from all over the world, Rishbouland tigers, crocodiles, bakedanuki, and human political prisoners. These sections were toured by Fatui agents before their first important mission. Most of the humans were traitors, and the Capitan or Il Dottore-- who usually led these tours-- took great glee in explaining that many of the humans were still alive, frozen in agony and time, unable to age or die. This far North, the Tsaritsa’s control over her element was absolute.

The Harbingers quietly walked through this section of the gardens after Signora’s funeral. Ajax-- well, Tartaglia, here-- made a beeline away from Scaramouche, not wanting to be presented with one of his cruel advances and have to turn him down, because he had no idea what would happen to Zhongli if that guy knew Tartaglia had a boyfriend--

“– You have an ex-lover among the Harbingers?” Zhongli interrupted. An arm wound its way around Ajax’s waist, firm and immovable as stone.

Ajax shivered. “Not like an ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t a thing. He just, you know, gets off on slapping people around, and I hadn’t gotten together with you yet, and you knooow how I love getting put into place by people more important than me--”

“Did you sleep with him after we met?” the arm around him tightened. “What does he look like?”

“I was in Liyue the whole time after we met until I left for this funeral.” Ajax said flatly. “And I am not about to give out real information on my co-conspirators, but: he looks like the kind of boy that Lord Barbatos gifts a vision to. Tiny. Decades of trauma behind his eyes. Not really my type, outside of the slapping thing.”

“Yet you lay with him multiple times…” the gold that flashed in Zhongli’s eyes, the color of mora, spoke of hours of possessive torture, but Ajax needed to stay on task before he could enjoy that.

“You have multiple epic-length poems about yourself about times you seduced a mountain or turned into a woman to make eyes at an innkeeper.”

Ajax sat on Zhongli’s knee for the rest of the story to calm him down.

The Harbingers quietly walked through this section of the gardens after Signora’s funeral. Ajax-- well, Tartaglia, here-- made a beeline away from Scaramouche, who was not even his type, especially now that he was getting double-dicked down by a sexy older man who was a dragon and had way more interesting anecdotes about the history of kite-making.

And Tartaglia ended up in front of the frozen dragon. It was--

“She,” Zhongli corrected.

“I have a contract to fulfill which states I must recount these events as I experienced them at the time.”

“…”

She, probably, since Tartaglia very much knew by now that dragons do have genders, was a small thing in comparison to the Schneznayan animals on display, probably around the size of the average Scheznayan fish. Barely larger than a house. Her scales were white and almost translucent in places, with a coat of rough-looking spines running down her back like a porcupines, despite being much smaller than the average Schneznayan porcupine.

The Tsaritsa was standing in front of it. As she had not attended the funeral in person, this was a shock to Tartaglia, who scrambled to bend the knee and greet her formally, but he was drawn back to a standing position by a single gloved finger under his chin. The Cryo Archon smiled secretively and put a finger to her lips.

”Shhhh. I am not here for an audience. I only wanted to look at my collection.”

Deferring to her, Tartaglia turned back to the frozen dragon. He felt like he couldn’t just leave, but standing next to his goddess rather than taking orders from far below her throne was uncomfortable for him.

The Cryo Archon, and the all-white dragon with its icicle spines suspended in the glacial slab. Tartaglia couldn’t keep the gears in his head from spinning.

“Your Majesty?” Tartaglia said, with utmost deference, “May I ask you something?”

When he was met with a chilly, but curious smile, he continued, “How did you come across this specimen?"

The Tsaritsa sighed and laid her hand on the ice, near the dragon’s face. “One of the ice-fields that we mine starsilver from was cracking. People were falling in… we were losing productivity. Since the collapses were so severe, I went in secret, in the dead of night, and I did battle with this thing.”

She turned to Tartaglia, her eyes crinkling around the corners. “You had some fascination with this installation the last time you were here, before I sent you to manage the--"

“I have to skip over this part, which goes into details particular to my work,” Ajax said, “As stated in the contract, I am allowed to, skip it and I will,”

“-- At any rate, I thought it was so curious, that a boy like you would be so… drawn to these creatures. Even someone who went through what you did would surely be terrified. But you… you just stared at it with a look like wonder. So I knew I would be sending you to Liyue when the time came.”

Tartaglia took a step back. How much did the Goddess know?

“I knew that you would be able to keep a level head when dealing with that obstinate snake,” the Tsaritsa said, serenely, “Though I am sure you are much relieved to be handling more… mundane matters, now, with that chapter of Liyue’s history closed and you are simply standing by and overseeng the bank.”

It went without saying the Morax’s ploy to fake his own death, which was not even explained to Tartaglia when he was going to be deployed in Liyue Harbor at the time, was known to the Tsaritsa herself, who had orchestrated the ruse with Morax, using Signora as an intermediary. But the way Tartaglia reacted had been part of the plan. Tartaglia wondered, seeing the snowflake twinkle in the Tsarita’s eyes, if even his falling in love with Morax had been in her calculations. Surely, she knew that the branch manager of the Northland Bank was often seen dining with a certain funeral parlor consultant.

“Is this… installation… still alive in there?” Tartaglia coughed.

He knew she knew he’d tell Zhongli. But he also knew she knew he knew she knew he’d tell Zhongli, and that she had allowed him to see the frozen dragon in the first place, so there was a very high chance she wanted him to tell Morax about the speciment in her garden. This was some kind of threat in Morax’s direction, carefully laid out years and years ahead of time. Maybe decades. Maybe centuries.

“Oh, yes,” said the Tsaritsa, “You have a very discerning eye, little Tartaglia. Ice cannot destroy ice, and while I have steel and gunpowder at my disposal to destroy ice… I have not.”

“Its name is Vyuga.”

And the Goddess of Ice disappeared in a flurry of snow.

“Vyuga,” Zhongli murmured. He was holding onto Ajax nervously, rather than jealously, now, and Ajax leaned back into his arms to soothe him.

“Do you know her?” he asked. Was this a hostage situation? What could the Tsaritsa be wanting as ransom, at this stage in the plan, when she already had Morax’s gnosis?

“No.” Zhongli rested his head against Ajax’s and took a deep breath. “Strictly speaking, I do not know her. But I know what she is. ‘Ice cannot destroy ice’.”

“So… this is the Cryo Dragon,” Ajax supplied, “And that means Her Majesty can’t kill her?”

“Oh, she could,” said Zhongli, “But she would only be reborn. And if there were a way to prevent this, she would not.”

Ajax blinked. “Why not? Celestia overthrew the Sovereigns millenia ago, so wouldn’t the Cryo Dragon be a thorn in Her Majesty’s side?”

“Because she knows that Tevyat needs the Sovereigns,” said Zhongli.

“… It does?”

Zhongli laid a hand on Ajax’s face and turned his chin until he could look him in the eye.

“Tevyat needs the Sovereigns… because in a way, the Sovereigns are Tevyat.”

“… Huh.” Ajax frowned, thinking this over. Was that why the Sovereigns were still around, rather than Celestia smiting them out of existence?

“… I should… not explain more than this,” Zhongli said, with an apologetic kiss to the top of Ajax’s head.

He only smiled. “It’s all right. I have things I don’t tell you about work, too. Now… I think we had a deal?”

“The contract does not demand I give you my scale immediately,” said Zhongli, and when Ajax’s jaw dropped, he quickly corrected, “– I do not intend to make this trade at my kitchen table over takeout. I… have never done this before. I would like to perform the rite with due ceremony.”

“Never?” Ajax said, relaxing into Zhongli’s arms.

“No. I… have had lovers, before, of course. But I have not been… mated.”

“Xiansheng,” Ajax cooed, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were nervous.”

Zhongli’s silence spoke volumes.

“Is there a ceremony? Or do you just mean you want to make it special?”

“Not ceremony in the sense that I expect to do this in front of an audience, or that there are ritual words to say. It is a private, intimate matter. If there is some tradition around it… I do not remember.”

“I guess it’s not like you have friends you can go around and show it off to like a ring,” Ajax said.

“… there are few these days who would know what if meant,” Zhongli said. Still, there was a glimmer in his eyes.

“But there’s someone you want to tell,” said Ajax.

Zhongli thought a moment, then shook his head. “I… probably ought to leave him alone. It might stir up bad feelings for him. Let us finish our dinner, and… curl up into bed, for the exchange.”

It was apparent when Wriothesley returned to the Fortress of Meropide that some of his guards had read the morning paper. Some of them called over to congratulate him, and some looked away, awkward or embarrassed. The next day, it was likewise obvious that some of his staff had sold the prisoners their newspapers for Credit Coupons, as they often did. Some of them looked rather sad about it.

“Is there anything anyone wants to ask me, about the new rotation pattern, or anything else,” Wriothesley finally said, at the end of a staff meeting two days later. He’d be more than happy to talk about his relationship if they just asked, but his people were always just a little too intimidated to sit and have a casual cup of tea with him, let alone ask him about his personal life.

The whispers were starting to get irritating.

The more junior guards in attendance looked at each other, trying to figure out if this was some kind of test.

“… How has… the Chief Justice… been?” one of them finally squeaked, after getting elbowed repeatedly by the guard sitting next to her, her cheeks bright red.

“That’s sweet, Sabienne. He’s been well. And whatever you’re imagining, imagine it much, much faster and harder. And twice as big. Are there any other questions? I’d rather we laid everything out than have a dip in our efficiency.”

Sabienne hid her face behind her hands. There was another flurry of whispers. Wriothesley could feel a headache coming on. This was a room full of competent adults who, normally, carried about their very important jobs with utmost seriousness.

Wriothesley tapped his finger against the table, testily, as he spoke. “We’ve been together two weeks. Yes, we were seeing each other awhile before that, yes, that’s why he’s been here more often, so no, he is not performing inspections of the Fortress, as that is still not under his jurisdiction. Yes, this is why I have been going topside more often, and the Chief Justice tops. Anything else?”

The room went silent. A sea of wide eyes stared back at him.

“No? Good. You may return to your posts.”

The second major annoyance took place in the city, on a day Wriothesley was not even there to see Neuvillette. He was delivering an expense report that had certain confidential information on it to the Palais Mermonia. Afterwards, he stopped by Neuvillette’s office, but Sedene told him Neuvillette was in a meeting across town, right up until the day’s trials. He considered trying to catch Neuvillette on his way to the Opera House, but decided against it. Neuvillette would be rereading the case’s files or discussing its details with Lady Furina on the ride over.

He was headed to the Quarter Lyonnaise to pick up lunch when a man he didn’t know ran to catch up with him.

“Your Grace!” he skidded to a stop in front of him, blocking his path. He looked too upset to be angry and the wrong kind of scared to be attempting assassination, but Wriothesley didn’t let down his guard.

He frowned. People didn’t usually recognize him in public without his coat. “Yes, that’s me.”

“Your Grace-- you must-- you must speak with Monsieur Neuvillette,” the man stammered, “My brother goes on trial today. It’s a misunderstanding! He would never kill anyone, no matter how much a blackmailer was holding over his head.”

“He wouldn’t?” Wriothesley crossed his arms. “Then the evidence will prove him innocent, won’t it?”

The man was sweating. “I-- you don’t understand. He didn’t do it! Please, my appeals were ignored, but the Chief Justice will listen to you--”

“You would have me try and sway the events of the trial?” Wriothesley asked.

“I—”

“You’re asking me to bat my eyelashes and make the charges go away.”

The man flinched. “No, I--”

“No? Good. I have somewhere to be. If you have some evidence that proves your brother innocent, go to the Opera Epiclese and present it. You know we have precedent for rushed evidence. Spina di Rosula bursts in to interrupt trials all the time, on the same rights all citizens have to bring the truth to light during court proceedings. My part of these things comes after the trial.”

Wriothesley turned on his heel and stormed off. On his way back to the Aquabus station, he was stopped by a reporter who wouldn’t say what newspaper he worked for, a woman who wanted to know if Wriothesley could put in a word for her son to get a promotion in the Maison Gardiennage, and a very foolish man who thought he could try and threaten Wriothesley to get the suspect for another day’s trial released.

Having his picture put in the papers usually inspired a brief uptick in people recognizing him on the street, but rarely was he stopped by so many people in day. Wriothesley was going to have to hire a carriage rather than using the Aquabus for awhile until this calmed down.

Getting on the Aquabus today, though, he found himself sitting across from the young president of the Spina di Rosula and two of her bodyguards.

Navia regarded Wriothesley coldly. “Your Grace… I don’t suppose you’re on your way to the Opera?” she said.

“No, Demoiselle, just heading home after some business in town.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Of course. The matters that take place during trials have nothing to do with you until the verdict is handed down. How nice for you.”

“These days, sure. Is there something special about this trial?” Wriothesley asked. “Should I be preparing a cell extra carefully?”

“If you must know, we have evidence the man being put on trial today is a sacrificial lamb for a smuggling ring that moves wildlife poached from other countries. He is indirectly responsible for the deaths of several people and countless animals, but he did not kill the person he is on trial for murdering. Putting him away will only further cloak the crimes he has actually committed.”

“Then he’ll be proven innocent. You are the second person today to tell me he didn’t do it, so I can only assume the Marechausees dug up enough to get to the bottom of this.”

“To find the real killer?” Navia waved a hand dismissively. “Maybe.”

“So, then, I suppose you’ll be bursting in to bring the real evidence that inspires a retrial,” Wriothesley said. “Why bother me about it, then?”

He knew what she was going to say, but he still had to hold himself back from rolling his eyes when Navia opened her mouth.

“You could talk with the Chief Justice about it. If the papers are correct and not just making conjecture, he would listen to you, would he not?”

Wriothesley stood. The Aquabus tilted slightly as it readjusted it balance on the rail. Wriothesley could hear the Melusine who operated the bus starting to tell him off, but he pretended not to hear her.

“And what, exactly, can the Iudex do, if he hears that the case might have more to it? He can’t call a mistrial when the man genuinely is the prime suspect for the case. His verdict relates to the trial at hand. You are already going yourself to present some kind of evidence that this goes deeper, right?”

“If you must know,” Navia said again, also standing-- the Aquabus tilted again-- “I was in direct contact with a Forest Watcher from one of the regions the poaching was taking place! But he has suddenly stopped responding to my letters, which means someone else is putting some sort of pressure on him, or that he has been detained to prevent aiding the investigation. He wouldn’t be the first person to disappear because of this group. But oh, that’s not within the Iudex’s authority to oversee? That’s not part of your jurisdiction?”

What an ill-tempered young lady. Wriothesley had not spoken with her directly before, and now, he wondered what exactly it was Clorinde saw in her.

“You’re so sure there isn’t another investigation about this case?” Wriothesley said slowly. “If it’s as overreaching as you claim. If you have some key evidence, or a witness, you should bring it forth, as the Spina di Rosula has done countless times before and turned the tides on tricky cases just like this. You’re right, Demoiselle. My hands are tied until the verdict is handed down.”

Navia’s lower lip wibbled. Was she seriously about to start crying?

“You’d be better off asking Dame Clorinde than me. She has Lady Furina’s ear herself,” Wriothesley continued, his irritation getting the better of him. “Or are you so furious with her for doing her job two and a half years ago that you’re too proud to ask her for help? I thought you two were friends.”

Navia sat, heavily, glaring poison into Wriothesley’s face. Wriothesley sat too. The Aquabus lurched both times.

“I know you two and the Demoiselle’s attendants are the only people on this transport,” sighed the Melusine at the head of the boat, “But can you please stop throwing off its balance calibration? I don’t want to be on the first Aquabus that goes tumbling off the rail and into the ocean. I would probably be fine, but when four humans hit the water, they’d be crushed by the physical shock, and it would be… really gross.”

“Sorry, Aeval,” Navia and Wriothesley huffed at the same time.

Aeval’s shoulders drooped. “Just argue in one spot. That’s all I’m asking. I don’t know if I can break up a fight between to Vision Holders, either, and I don’t really want to find out.”

It was quiet for a few minutes while Wriothesley glared at Navia and she glared back.

“Is there something I can actually do to help you?” Wriothesley finally said.

Navia ground her teeth a moment longer before answering. “Are you in contact with law enforcement from Gandharva Ville or Chenyu Vale?”

“You know that the Fortress of Meropide operates separately from the rest of Fontaine. All of my interactions with foreign authorities are related to handing off prisoners wanted in other countries.”

“… I see.”

“I have nothing against the work your organization does,” Wriothesley said. “The Spina di Rosula helped me, once, a long time ago.”

Navia blinked. “We did?”

“Yes, though I think you would have been too young to be involved. When I was first arrested, I was worried that there would be no one trustworthy to look after my younger siblings. It was your father who found them better homes than being dumped into our sinking child welfare system. One of our older siblings had escaped and become a teacher in Poisson, and he took most of them in.”

“Escaped?” Navia said, her eyes widening. “What exactly were you arrested--”

“I’m not going into my case file with you if you aren’t familiar. You can look it up in the public court records.”

Not that Navia would find it easily, as Wriothesley had been tried under a different name. Very few people these days who remembered his case knew that child was him.

“Again. If there’s something I can actually do, you can ask. I don’t want people in Meropide who don’t really need to be there. Or people under my jurisdiction for the wrong thing, and sentenced for an unfair amount of time. Not for too long and not for not long enough.”

“… I see,” Navia said quietly, seemingly declawed for the moment.

Wriothesley smiled. “Though, now that I think of it, letters can take awhile to get to me. You’ll reach me a lot faster if you just ask Clorinde.”

When they pulled into the station, Wriothesley looked at the sky above the Opera Epiclese. There were some clouds gathered. He was tempted to stick around and watch the weather, but he had work to do, and Neuvillette had been the Chief Justice for a long time. Hopefully, if the trial Navia was about to run in to shake up got to be hard on him, he’d ask Wriothesley to go see him like he had said he could.

The papers the next day reported a massive upset in the trial after the Spina di Rosula showed some evidence that implied an international poaching ring. It wasn’t enough to stop the murder trial, but it was enough to put it on hold while more evidence was sought out. Not long after, Liyue’s Ministry of Civil affairs sent one of their agents with evidence of exotic animals being brought through Chenyu Vale.

When recounting these events to Wriothesley weeks later, Clorinde would explain that the Forest Watcher who Navia had been in contact with had been away from home at the Pardis Diyai research base. While he was there, he had been struck by lightning on a perfectly clear day and nearly died from electrocution. Not answering Navia’s letters had nothing to do with the poaching ring.

Navia would send Wriothesley a box of homemade macarons and a handwritten apology.

The case of the man being framed for murder to cover up for an animal smuggling ring had been a surprising development, but it had not especially shaken Neuvillette.

The following day’s trial was different. Finding out that a known scammer who had long been on the wanted list had three families who did not know each other was was good entertainment for the Opera Epiclese’s audience, perhaps, but the accounts each of the victims of his bigamy gave were harrowing. One wife had been so berated and verbally abused by the defendant that she had trouble even testifying about the way her children were treated. One wife had truly thought the defendant was a poor artist who needed to travel for his work, and he had been slowly draining her of the small funds her late parents had left her, and she was starving and working herself to the bone to pay off his “debts”. And the third wife, who had three children, was so young. Throughout the trial, the defendant backtracked, lied, and twisted his words to much that the prosecution was unable to present a consistent case, even though it was clear the man was guilty.

But in the pursuit of the truth, and in the interest of determining the correct sentence, reveal after miserable reveal was dragged out in front of the audience. What would these three families do? How would the wives come to terms with the truth? What about their children?

It was raining heavily even by the first recess, three hours in. In Furina’s private waiting room, Neuvillette looked out at the gloomy weather. How long was this going to drag out?

“Monsieur Neuvillette?” Aeife, the Melusine who guarded the Opera’s front door, peeked into the room. “Is there something I can do?”

“See if you can convince that man to ask for a Duel of Honor,” Furina said darkly from behind a very large slice of cake. “I’ll send Clorinde right out for him.”

“The window for him to request a Duel of Honor has passed, with the trial already underway,” Neuvillette reminded her.

He turned to Aeife. “You know the weather sometimes turns during a trial. This is… just one of those times.”

It was unusual for one of the Melusines to ask directly how he was doing. Usually, they would try and cheer him up by telling stories or bringing him gifts.

“I know,” Aeife said, “But since I already convinced Trow to cover my post, I… could carry a message into the Fortress of Meropide for you.”

Neuvillette shook his head slightly, turning back to the window to watch the raindrops pelting the glass. “You shouldn’t disturb His Grace over such a trivial matter.”

“… Shouldn’t I?” Aeife said.

Neuvillette heard Wriothesley’s voice echo across his mind. ’If it hurts this much-- send me an express post letter. I can’t see the weather from where I work.’

“…. Since you took the trouble of finding someone to cover your shift.”

A Melusine was escorted into Wriothesley’s office to hand him a note.

Wriothesley,
I want to see you.

The rain up in the overworld was furious and heavy. The lights shining out of the Opera Epiclese meant that court proceedings were ongoing, and it was not that far from Meropide’s entrance to the opera. Wriothesley still had to fight back the urge to clutch his umbrella tighter and run into the building. He thanked Aeife at the door and put an overflowing pile of Strange Components into her hands before easing his way into the main seating area.

From his place in the judge’s seat, Neuvillette looked emotionless as he stared down at the man on the stage, who was explaining fervently that it was not his fault if he sold products that his customers did not understand how to correctly use. As the poor excuses piled on top of each other, Wriothesley looked up at the cold, intense, but unreadable expression on Neuvillette’s face, and he thought about the rain outside.

When a member of the Marechausee Phantom burst into the courtroom holding a bag of even more incriminating evidence, another recess had to be called so the forensics team could examine it. Neuvillette stood and disappeared into the hallway behind his box, and Wriothesley headed out of the courtroom, walked up the stairs, and hurried to catch up to him.

“Hey—” He caught Neuvillette by the hand in front of a set of double doors. Neuvillette turned, his eyes wide.

“You came,” he said. He squeezed his hand tight and pulled him into the room behind the doors. It appeared to be a parlor, complete with comfortable places to sit and a fully loaded tea table. Wriothesley was met with the view of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the roar of the rain outside.

Neuvillette pulled Wriothesley in and hugged him tightly.

“I’m here,” Wriothesley said. “I’m here.”

“I do not understand,” Neuvillette said, “I cannot fathom why humans do some of these things. All of this pain, and for-- for money. Just money. And-- sex.”

Wriothesley rubbed his back, breathing slow. Neuvillette started to relax against him.

“Some people just… don’t understand what things are worth,” Wriothesley said tightly.

He thought of the faces of the children still in the courtroom. called to testify against their father. He thought of his older siblings who were “adopted”, never to be seen again, sold off to cruel guardians or shipped off to other lands. All for just money, and for sex, as Neuvillette had said.

But as much at the thought turned Wriothesley’s stomach, Neuvillette was the one crying. He kissed him, gently, on the sides of his cheeks, as if his tears were pouring down his face and not out of the sky.

“Surely, after the evidence is examined, you’ll have enough to do the sentencing. And after that, we can get out of here. Open a nice bottle of water, eat something warm.”

Neuvillette nodded into Wriothesley’s hair. “I would like that.”

Wriothesley hummed. “My place or yours?”

“… Your place is about to accept that man behind its walls one way or another,” Neuvillette said. “So I would prefer elsewhere, tonight. Unless you have another residence?”

“I really don’t,” Wriothesley said, “Sorry. I haven’t had a reason to be topside much until recently.”

“Perhaps… we could go to my other residence,” Neuvillette said. “I think, after this, I would like… to be away from humanity awhile.”

“Your other residence?”

Neuvillette hesitated. “Underneath the city. It is more of a… den, than an apartment. We will have to swim there.”

“A dragon’s den,” Wriothesley hummed. “I’d like to see it. After I personally see this defendant go into my elevator.”

“… Yes. Please do.”

Wroithesley urged Neuvillette to sit on the couch and drink some water-- the bottle claimed to be Springvale-drawn-- and eat something. The rain didn’t let up noticeably, but Wriothesley knew by now that it may keep going awhile, even after Neuvillette was calm. The way that children kept crying long after an injury hurt, because they felt better after. The way that adults forgot to cry, because they had been told carrying on like that was unsightly.

Very few people knew that this was Neuvillette crying, so no one would have told him not to. At least, with everything that beat down at him, he could cry as long as he really needed.

The tea table was set for three, as if Lady Furina would be joining them, but she never showed. They went back out and returned to their respective seats, and the trial ran through its last and final session. With that last evidence, the defendant’s fate was sealed: guilty, sentenced to thirty years in Meropide. Wriothesley got up and fell into step with the Gardes to personally escort the man to the Fortress of Meropide, and watched the door close on him. The rain was loud on Wriothesley’s umbrella.

Neuvillette was waiting for him back at the courthouse, in that sitting room again. He was without his robe, handing a garment back off to Aeife, when Wriothesley arrived. Wriothesley held out his damp jacket.

“It’s chilly out there,” he said. “You’ll be cold in just your waistcoat.”

Neuvillette nodded, snuggling into the coat, pressing the fur collar against his face. Wriothesley held an umbrella over both of them as they left the Opera Epiclese.

“So… underneath the city,” Wriothesley said, sidling close, so no one could hear them over the sound of the rain, not that many people were around at this point.

“Yes. We will take my carriage back first.”

Zhongli was quiet for the rest of that dinner. Holding Ajax in his lap, finding excuses to touch him, to wipe stray grains of rice off his mouth. Ajax could not shake the feeling he was nervous. But then, Zhongli had said he’d never done this before.

What a special privilege, to be giving something new to someone so old and with so many lovers in his past. Ajax was buzzing, like he did before a fight, like he had when Zhongli first locked eyes with him.

If this was a private, sacred moment for Zhongli, then it would be for Ajax too.

He went and washed up, cooing for Zhongli to go get ready for him. Ajax had his own preparations to make. He bathed quickly, combed his hair, applied just a little of that old-fashioned perfume that he had once felt nothing in particular about and now wore nightly because it drove Zhongli mad for him. He left his day clothes on the floor and came out to the bedroom in just the pretty silk robe he always woke up in when he fell asleep naked or cold.

Zhongli was waiting in his dragon form, his body coiled around their bed. Ajax smiled and reached for him, accepting a claw to be helped up over the thick tail to sit inside the walls Zhongli created with himself. His hand was gently urged forward, until his palm rested against the warm scales at the side of his neck, behind his head.

“Pick one,” Zhongli said softly. “Whichever… feels right. Make me your prized possession.”

The strange eyes of the dragon, the exuvia, shimmered, dewy with emotion. Sentimental old thing.

Ajax smiled and traced his scarred fingers over the edges of the dark scales. He took his time, feeling out their shapes. Perhaps the smart thing to do would be to pick a small one he could hide easily. But he wanted the biggest, prettiest one he could find. And why shouldn’t he? If Ajax were a dragon, Zhongli would be doing the same.

His hands closed around the edge of a scale trimmed in gold, sharp around the edges, but smooth as a polished gem.

“How do I take it?” he breathed. “Will it hurt? Will it scar?”

“Just pull. It may take some strength, considering how recently I last shed this skin. Please do not use your Delusion.”

Ajax tugged, but the scale wouldn’t budge. He pulled harder, his nails raking against it, but he couldn’t even scratch it. His fingers hurt from pulling, but nothing moved. Getting frustrated. he huffed and grabbed onto the edge of the scale with his teeth.

They scraped against the scale, too, making a noise that made Ajax’s ears hurt, but slowly, after tugging with all his might, the scale came free. The edges of it cut into his mouth, coating his tongue in blood, and the paper-soft, yellow patch of skin revealed where the scale had been began to weep blood too-- not red, but gold, warm and metallic.

Ajax held up the scale for Zhongli to see. It was almost too large to hold in his palm, sharp around the edges. “Xiansheng, I got it.”

Zhongli heaved a great hissing sigh, in equal parts pain and contentment.

“And I’ll take good care of it,” Ajax said. “You said this makes you my… prized possession? Is that what this means? Do you belong to me now?”

“It is the way dragons view their life partner,” Zhongli explained, “We hoard treasures out of habit… once, to show our power, I suppose, but that was before I was born. Now it seems closer to how other animals collect shiny things and use them to decorate their nests. If I had not retired, I would be sequestering you in the Golden House at this moment.”

“And making love to me on a pile of coins?” Ajax said, fluttering his lashes.

“Indeed.”

Ajax licked his lips, relishing the taste of blood and the way his cuts stung. “I own a bank, Xiansheng. We could still do that. Imagine slamming me into the vault until my back is imprinted in hundreds of mora marks, until they cut into my skin and bleed, until I’m branded with them, the gift you gave to Tevyat--”

“… This is a discussion we should certainly continue later,” Zhongli decided, “But to the topic at hand… not all dragons take a mate, as I mentioned before. To wear that scale signifies me as an extension of your treasures, and you as an extension of my own body.”

“An extension of a deposed king,” Ajax said. “And his keeper. I do like how that sounds…”

He kissed the bare patch of Zhongli’s hide, letting the golden blood stain his lips. “But you have nothing to put here. Is that fair?”

“The skin will heal, and there will be a scale there again the next time I shed my skin, as if I had lost it some other way. I am not the first dragon to take a mate of a another species. The others seemed perfectly satisfied in their versions of this contract. And I have traded this scale for something else, as it states in our contract.”

“I see. But what about me? What about my satisfaction?” Ajax said into the open wound.

He bit down hard on the skin, testing how delicate it was. He couldn’t break it with his teeth. “If I had a scale to give you, another dragon would see it on you, and know you were spoken for. But now, they’d think you’re single, and you’re mine.”

Like only one of them wearing their wedding ring. He didn’t like it. The blood on him, his and Zhongli’s, called to him, crying for battle, for injury, and Ajax had taken without being taken from. A theft instead of a fight.

“I know! You can take this.”

He sat up, pulling back enough for Zhongli to watch him. He put his thumb in his mouth and fit the edge of the fingernail between his teeth.

And he began to pull.

“No, Zhongli said, alarmed, uncoiling to try and stop him.

“What do you mean, no?” Ajax huffed. “It’s hard, embedded in my skin, and pulling it out will hurt and bleed. It’s a better trade. Or will you not take it even after I work so hard to give you something?”

“You already gave me something,” Zhongli insisted. “Simply because it will hurt to remove and because both things are constructed primarily of keratin does not signify that you should injure yourself.”

“Then don’t take it when I give it to you. I’m still ripping it out,” said Ajax stubbornly.

He put his thumb in his mouth again--

And Zhongli hooked a claw around his wrist to pull his hand back.

“If you wish to mirror what I gave you more closely--” he sighed, and it was heavy, resigned, exasperated, “--I should be the one to do it.”

And he brought Ajax’s hand to his mouth, and fit the thumbnail between his teeth.

“Yes,” Ajax breathed, “Yes. Take it. Make it hurt. Make me your prized possession.”

Something about the words being echoed back at him urged Zhongli on, and he began to pull. The sharp dragon teeth grazed the skin of his thumb, slicing it as the skin around his nail started to give. The slits of Zhongli’s pupils widened to ovals, then circles, as he focused on him, his gaze another sharp thing pinning him in place. Then, with a horrible tearing, the nail was ripped out, leaving only bleeding skin at the end of Ajax’s thumb.

The pain was excruciating, and Ajax was elated. He laughed, even as he grimaced and bent over, clutching the injured thumb, blood dripping onto the sheets. It had been a long time since he’d experienced a shock that made his whole body go cold all over. Zhongli hissed in concern, the coils of his body slithering to hold him close.

“You did not need to do this,” Zhongli said, his forked tongue tickling Ajax’s ear. “I already held you as my greatest treasure.”

“And now another dragon would know,” Ajax said, grinning fiercely, still bleeding from the edges of his mouth.

Zhongli licked his cheek, then turned to examine the bloody oval of fingernail that rested, so impossibly tiny, in the palm of his claw. “… Another dragon… would,” he hummed. “And I believe… I can make use of this. Give me some of your hair.”

Ajax fisted a hand in his own hair without question and started to pull, causing Zhongli to scramble to stop him and fetch a pair of shears. Laughing again, Ajax trimmed a few locks into Zhongli’s hand to join the nail. The hair soaked up the blood, turning from orange to red.

Zhongli closed his claw into a fist. Blood-- red and gold-- dripped out from between his fingers, and the tawny yellow of Geo energy shone through the cracks.

When he opened his hand again, there was a jagged scale sitting in the blood. It was almost leaf-shaped, with sharp ridges running down it. The scale was a coppery orange, the same shade as Ajax’s hair, with hits of blue at the edges.

“I do not know,” Zhongli said, “If it will take well enough to regrow. We shall have to see.”

Ajax picked it up to marvel at it. “This is mine?”

“No, Ajax,” Zhongli chided, “As I just explained. now it is mine. Fix it into the gap in my scales or give it back so I may do so.”

Ajax sliced his fingers on the jagged edges, sliding it under the scales around the bare patch of skin. Zhongli growled, gently, rustling his coils and flexing his neck until the scale slotted into the gap in his armor properly. The flash of orange stood out in sharp contrast against the dark brown of the rest of his scales.

A strange sense of pride and self-satisfaction welled up in Ajax’s chest. The chances of anyone else ever seeing this-- let alone someone who knew what it meant-- were small. But he would see it, every time Zhongli took this form with him, and he would know.

Zhongli spent far too long fussing over Ajax’s hands and bandaging them up before they made love. Usually, Zhongli would take him hard, for as long as Ajax could survive, fucking him open with one cock until he was about to finish, then switching to the other one and delaying his climax. He could carry on like this, switching and holding off, for hours, until Ajax was a battered, boneless thing hanging limp in his coils. Tonight, however, Zhongli was gentle, tonguing him open before Ajax had even come once and sliding inside him, easily, despite his overwhelming size.

When Zhongli started to growl and constrict around him tighter, Ajax braced himself for the switch to the other cock and the likely change to a rougher, faster rhythm, but instead, Zhongli hilted himself fully into Ajax and filled him, spilling his rush of churning seed deep into his body, then only stilled a moment before he pulled out and gave him the other one, plugging up the gush of cum that tried to escape. With the second length working into Ajax, Zhongli twisted his body, holding him tighter as usual, but also rubbing Ajax’s erection against the slit his cocks protruded from.

“If you want thisss--” Zhongli hissed, and Ajax did not need further instruction. He pushed into the hot, wet crevice, moaning at the slide of Zhongli’s lengths against his dick, pushing into the impossibly slick space between them, the one already spent softening against him even as Ajax thrust against it.

Zhongli around him, Zhongli deep inside him, Zhongli leaking out of him whenever he fucked into him hard enough. Ajax’s fingers still throbbed under his bandages, and he was clinging, trying to wrap his arms around his neck, even biting at his scales to try and get some leverage, but Zhongli had him in his grasp and at his mercy, even going gently like this.

Ajax’s vision blurred when he came, but he found himself trying to focus on the smudge of orange in the sea of dark brown that clouded his sight. This was his, all his, he would never win against Zhongli in a fight without pulling a dirty trick but when he was the focus of all of this intensity it still felt like a victory--

Zhongli’s roar thundered into his ears as he emptied into him the second time. He felt the shape of an egg press against his rim, but Zhongli pulled out before it could breach him, and that massive, heavy cock slid between his thighs, rutting against his scarred body, until the egg sat cooling on his belly.

“I could’ve taken it,” Ajax mumbled, but there was no real distress in his voice, just a whine as his softening cock slipped out of Zhongli.

“I know,” Zhongli hummed. He licked up a bead of sweat that trickled down his chest. “But I like seeing them near you.”

“Sentimental old man,” Ajax snickered, “My sentimental old man. My… mate? Is that what you called it?”

“Yes.” A low, rumbling hiss whistled through Zhongli’s teeth as he shifted so Ajax could lie against him more comfortably. “My mate.”

Wriothesley held Neuvillette’s hand on the carriage ride back to the city, keeping an eye on the rain outside. Neuvillette was quiet, resting his head against his. They disembarked the carriage at the front gate of the city rather than going all the way to the Palais. Wriothesley held his umbrella over them both while they climbed the paths down the cliffs to the beach at the base of the city, even though he had a feeling Neuvillette did not mind if the rain touched him.

Wriothesley grunted in surprise when Neuvillette started to strip at the water’s edge.

“I’m more than willing to comfort you that way if that’s what you want, but I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting this,” he said, eyebrows raised.

“Oh-- no, forgive me,” Neuvillette said, though he continued to step out of his boots, “I wish to transform somewhat, so I may swim more strongly. The clothes will tear if I am wearing them when I do this.”

He bundled his clothes together and offered them out to Wriothesley. “Would you hold these? I can keep you dry underwater, but I will need an arm free to swim properly.”

“Of course,” Wriothesley said. He held the bundle carefully and kept his eyes trained on Neuvillette’s naked body, now with curiosity rather than surprise.

Neuvillette held his hands out to the rain for a long moment, closing his eyes, before his rhinophores started to glow faintly blue and scales started to rise up out of his skin. His tail curled out of his back, the translucent fins at the end glowing too and spreading to catch the rain, and Neuvillette’s body grew longer, wider, until he was tipping forwards to disappear into the water.

The bluish-white head that emerged from the water was more snakelike than fishlike, but certainly made Wriothesley think of both. The rhinophores were longer, floating around Neuvillette in the water, and many more half-translucent fins seemed to sprout down the side of his body. Wriothesley couldn’t see how large Neuvillette was like this, or much about the rest of his features, in the dark water, but he could see two large, pale shapes spreading out from Neuvillette’s back. His wings.

A webbed claw rose out of the water and beckoned for Wriothesley to come forwards. He took it, noting that the talons looked sharp even though Wriothesley had sanded Neuvillette’s fingers down not too long ago.

Wriothesley was eased into the water against the smooth-scaled body. There was a pocket of air around him and the bundle of Neuvillette’s clothes, keeping them both try, except for what water was stuck to Neuvillette’s scales where they touched. He looked around, trying to get another look at the rest of him, but he didn’t have much of a view from this angle.

“There will be time to observe me after we reach my den,” Neuvillette said. His voice came through perfectly clear, even in the water, though it sounded a little more like he was singing. “I will take us there now, if you are ready.”

Wriothesley nodded, but he was not expecting Neuvillette to take off so fast. The bubble around him provided cushioning, but the scenery whizzed past them almost too fast for him to see where they were going. They swam into a trench a little past the Institute of Natural Philosophy, around a rock formation encrusted in Beryl Conches, and into a cave that was almost impossible to spot until they were swimming into it. There was a strong current trying to push them out, stronger than any human or machine would be able to swim against, but Neuvillette cut through the water like a knife. He swam deeper, starting to slow so he could navigate many twists in the passage, holding Wriothesley tighter so he wouldn’t knock against the stones while they turned.

“Nearly there,” Neuvillette told him.

There was a light above them, dancing in wavelike patterns. As Neuvillette started to swim up in that direction, Wriothesley realized that this was a light above the water just before they resurfaced onto a narrow sandbank. Neuvillette placed Wriothesley down on a rock before flopping onto his belly.

They were in a large cavern that was mostly water and beach. The ceiling above was crusted with Beryl Conches, which was the source of the dim light.

“I suppose my foyer is more interesting to look at in the low tide,” Neuvillette said. As he hauled himself up out of the water, Wriothesley got a good look of the body he’d been held against.

Past the snakelike head, its fins, and the gills near Neuvillette’s jaw, he had a long neck, accentuated by smaller, many-edged fins. Two darker blue stripes of scales ran down from the roots of his rhinophores and down his back. His shoulders and front legs were thick, with the body tapering towards the tail, the back legs almost an afterthought. Along the sides of Neuvillette’s body, pairs of fins with long spines that went from white at the base, to blue at the tips, protruded. The tail looked much the same as it did when Neuvillette had shown him before, though it stretched much longer, proportionate to this body.

And then there were the wings folded against Neuvillette’s back. When he saw Wriothesley looking, he raised one tiredly, showing a wingspan that Wriothesley could easily hide under. The wing unfurled like a sail, thick like a stingray’s wing or an aquatic bird’s, rather than the thin, glassy flesh of his fins.

“Can you… fly?” Wriothesley asked, feeling very silly to ask such a question.

“Not in here,” Neuvillette said, gesturing to the cave around them, which was not much longer than he was in any direction. When Wriothesley’s eyes widened, he continued, “I have not flown for some time, as I have been keeping a lower profile and it takes a good deal of energy to stay airborne. Most of the time, I use my wings to propel myself through the water.”

“But you needed an arm free to swim?” Wriothesley murmured. He stepped closer and laid a hand on the smooth, silvery underside of the wing.

“For passage through that current, I need it to steer, or to bat aside any floating debris.”

“Wriothesley…” he sighed, his voice heavy as he folded the damp wing around him to pull him closer. “Normally, I would be more than happy to explain every part of my biology. But at the moment, I am…”

He trailed off, uncertain.

“… I am crying,” he finally said.

Wriothesley put his arms around Neuvillette-- or as much around him as he could. “I think you might be worn out, on top of whatever else you’re feeling,” he murmured. “Exhausted, even. Let’s lie down. Will you show me where you sleep?”

Neuvillette’s wing pressed against Wriothesley for a long moment in a strange sort of hug, and then it was shrinking away, until Neuvillette’s naked human form collapsed into Wriothesley’s arms. He led him into the lone passageway that led out of this chamber he’d called the entryway. More glowing conches lit their path. Wriothesley wondered if Neuvillette had collected these or chosen these caves because they were already here, but now didn’t seem to be the time to ask.

The next chamber was much larger, and the walls and floor carved into much smoother surfaces. There was furniture, here, couches, a low table, and a great many bookshelves nestled around a large desk.

“Sitting room,” Neuvillette said, gesturing loosely with a clawed hand, his steps heavy. He pulled Wriothesley on, leaning on him for support, into another hallway. They passed a round door with a wheel instead of a knocker, like the hatch door to keep a ship watertight.

“Treasury,” Neuvillette explained.

They passed a room that appeared to just house a pool of water of unknowable depth. “Larder. Mostly cave crabs.”

And they stopped in front of the pair of doors at the end of the hallway, which sat in a shallow pool of water, almost a moat. “Nest cavern.”

Neuvillette made another weak gesture with his claws, and the water around the bases of the doors rose to move them. They slid into the wall around them and disappeared.

Inside, there was a large bed piled in cushions, a wardrobe, and the other things one would expect to see in a human’s bedroom, but that was all carved into one small niche of the much larger cavern. A good amount of the floorspace was taken up by yet another large pool of water, faintly steaming-- this place must be carved into a natural hot springs. Next to that was, for some reason, a large basin full of sand.

Neuvillette looked to the pool, then the sand pit, then the bed.

“… Sand is too cold… water is unsafe…” He picked the bed. He stumbled in that direction, still holding Wriothelsey’s arm.

“Are those all for sleeping?” Wriothesley asked.

“Yes.” Neuvillette said simply. He climbed into the bed and looked to Wriothesley expectantly. Under all the pillows and blankets, only his face peeked out.

Wriothesley looked down at his sweaty clothes and made the executive decision to strip down before joining Neuvillette under the mountain of bedding. Neuvillette pulled himself into his chest immediately, pressing his face into the warmth of Wriothesley’s neck.

“… Do you want to talk about it?” Wriothesley asked, as he started to pet his hair. “The trial? Or how you feel?”

“I do not know… what purpose that would serve,” Neuvillette said quietly. “I would like to hold you… and rest.”

“All right.” Wriothesley pressed his lips to the top of his forehead.

Seeing Neuvillette like this, weighed down by whatever feelings he couldn’t name, made him wonder how many times a trial had reduced Neuvillette to this, only for him to suffer through it alone.

He remembered the day he’d surprised Neuvillette in his office, right before they confirmed their relationship. The moment he saw that rain, he’d started running even before he could open his umbrella. This left him a soggy, breathless mess as he boarded the aquabus into the city, which at least gave him the chance to calm his nerves before he sauntered into the Palais like it was any other visit. He rememebered how Neuvillette had insisted he couldn’t trouble Wriothesley with his pain.

“… I’m glad you sent for me. I have a feeling it was not easy. Thank you.”

Neuvillette hummed. Wriothesley felt the smooth weight of his tail wrap around him.

“You said… I could be selfish,” he said, his voice so small, muffled into Wriothesley’s skin. Wriothesley gathered him close, and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

Wriothesley was getting far too used to waking up with Neuvillette’s tail pinning him in place. The Chief Justice was still fast asleep, his legs and arms wrapped around him too, his claws resting against Wriothesley’s back. Under the heavy blankets, sweating with no clothes on, plastered to Neuvillette’s smooth skin, he felt far too warm. Wasn’t heat supposed to wake reptiles up?

But then, Neuvillette’s face looked so peaceful on his shoulder. Wriothesley stayed right where he was until the dragon began to stir.

When Neuvillette opened his eyes, Wriothesley shifted down to kiss his cheek. “Good morning. How is the weather?”

“… Much better,” Neuvillette mumbled. “I am not entirely aware if the sky is clear. The forces that control the weather in other countries are still at play in Fontaine.”

“So not every time it rains is you crying?” Wriothesley asked.

Neuvillette thought. “Most times I have witnessed rain were me crying,” he said, after a moment. “I suppose that if you know I am nearby, assuming the weather is related to me as you have been will… not be incorrect.”

Wriothesley held him just a little tighter. “Got it.”

“… At any rate, the rain has stopped.” Neuvillette sat up, untangling himself from Wriothesley. “And I brought you down here without offering you any food or other hospitality. You must be famished.”

“I ate with you in the Opera Epiclese,” Wriothesley reminded him, “But I am a little peckish. You had a… larder?”

“Yes-- a small fishery. I made the conditions of that cavern ideal for crabs and other local fish to rest and feed. There are also some other shelf-stable supplies in that room.”

Neuvillette swung his feet over the side of the bed and kicked around the floor until he found a pair of slippers. “I will whip something up. There is a bathroom on the far side of this chamber, and…”

He went to open the wardrobe. His tail was still wrapped around Wriothesley, so moving this far away tugged him towards the end of the bed.

“… This should fit.”

He held up a voluminous blouse and a pair of gathered, Sumerun-style trousers. “Though I will not object to you wearing one of my nightshirts…”

“I’ll settle for the clothes,” Wriothesley said. “Did you have a tea set in the sitting room? I could really go for a cup.”

He met Neuvillette in the sitting room a few minutes later, where Neuvillette was boiling shelled crab and vegetables on a small stove. Neuvillette did have a tea set, and one tin of tea, well-sealed.

“Is this your preferred blend?” Wriothesley asked. The tin was labeled Coronete du Matin..

“It is the one I am in the habit of buying,” said Neuvillette. “Before coffee was widely imported, all the Marechausees preferred this blend. Outside of enjoying it with you… I largely drink tea when I need to stay awake.”

“Ah, right, Coronete is pretty strong, without being unnecessarily bitter.” Wriothesley laughed. “I drink so much tea these days, I hardly consider the caffeine content anymore.”

He brewed the tea, and Neuvillette brought over his soup. He had whipped up a sort of mock-bisque, using extra potato in place of cream.

“When you don’t have company, I take it you just eat the crabs raw?” Wriothesley said, grinning. “If you don’t stock perishables.”

Neuvillette blinked-- first with clear, sideways eyelids, then his humanlike ones. “I enjoy cooking, or what I know of it. But I have never brought someone here before.”

Wriothesley paused. “… Never?”

“No.” Neuvillette looked away, down at his teacup. “I… have of course shared my nature with others before. But a den is… private. I never brought Lady Egeria here, nor Lady Furina, nor even the Melusines, and I haven't even told any of them exactly where it is.”

This was a private sanctum? “Is it... okay for me to be here? We’ve been together for-- not even three weeks.”

Neuvillette smiled and reached over to pat Wriothesley’s knee. “I trust you. And I feel… close with you, and you are more accepting of my nature than anyone I have been with. I am sure in my decision to bring you here.”

The way he said it so matter-of-factly was what got to Wriothesley. His heart fluttered. “Monsieur… you are a dangerous flirt,” he said.

Neuvillette blushed and busied himself with his soup.

“Are you expected back to Meropide any time soon?” he asked.

“Not exactly.” The work Wriothesley had to do could wait until evening, or maybe even until tomorrow. “Why, Monsieur? You’ve dragged me to your lair, and now you intend to ravage me?”

Neuvillette took a suspiciously long sip of his tea.

“I know you were curious about the dragon’s body, and it would be safer to show it to you here than out in the open,” he said. “It is also easier to hold that form in the water, and the heated pool in my nest chamber feeds from groundwater. As it is naturally occurring, you will be able to take advantage of your Vision and dive comfortably.”

“But Monsieur,” Wriothesley said, batting his eyelashes, “You know I have lustful plans for that body.”

“… We can discusssss that after breakfassssst...”

Wriothesley grinned, knowingly, but didn’t rush him. He wasn’t finished with his tea, anyway, and good tea was meant to be respected and savored, not gulped down like liquor or coffee.

Afterwards, they went back to the bedroom. Wriothesley glanced at the vault door as they passed.

“What do you keep in there, anyway?”

“Ah. Treasure,” said Neuvillette, not even looking at the door.

“… Such as?”

“Largely, things I dredged up from shipwrecks. Mora, artworks, gemstones. A great deal of additional Beryl Conches, as I am fond of them, and how their light glances off the other things. I have an… urge, to pile up shiny and valuable things, but it felt odd leaving them in an open cavern, once I had a certain amount piled up. Hence the door. There are also some things scattered on the floor of the hot spring in my room.”

Wriothesley thought about the highly ornamented walls and shelves in Neuvillette’s Palais apartment, and the wardrobe full of fine clothes Neuvillette rarely wore. It made all the more sense, now.

They reentered the bedroom and Neuvillette stripped-- businesslike, still, not putting on a show. Wriothesley followed his lead and placed his borrowed clothes on the chaise lounge by the bookshelf, leaving only his vision tied to his arm, before following Neuvillette down the steps carved into the rock and getting into the water.

It was blessedly hot. Wriothesley sighed as he swam out into the pool, immediately sensing that the water was safe for him to dive and breathe in. By the time he got his bearings, Neuvillette was already in the draconic body he’d used to bring Wriothesley here. Wriothesley opened his mouth to speak, but only bubbles came out.

He hauled himself up onto the steps. “Didn’t you say this form barely fit in your bathtub?” he called. “It’s way too long for that!”

Neuvillette’s head surfaced at Wriothesley’s side. “I am nearly too wide for the bathtub.”

“… You were low-balling it so I wouldn’t be alarmed, weren’t you.”

“Partly, it is that,” Neuvillette admitted, “It has also been a long time since I showed a human this body. My sense of scale… may have been different in my head.”

Wriothesley reached out and stroked his snout. Neuvillette’s head was easily the size of his torso. Not big enough to swallow him whole, he thought, but definitely big enough to snap him in half.

… Perhaps now was not the time to examine why that thought excited him.

“So,” said Neuvillette, “Yesterday, you seemed to have questions.”

Wriothesley nodded, still stroking the scales. “You said you have to concentrate to keep this up?”

“Yes. Shape-shifting is not an easy skill. Due to… the incomplete nature of my reincarnation, the humanlike body you normally see is more or less my default state. I could hardly even take this form until I was over one hundred years old. My time as a hatchling was spent swimming around with sharp teeth, a tail, externalized gills, and webbed hands.”

“And otherwise, a naked toddler?” That was kind of cute.

“Quite.” Neuvillette pressed his head into Wriothesley’s touch. “As for the flying…”

He raised up a wing. It was silvery, shinier, on the underside. “My wings seem more suited for swimming. But dragons do not necessarily need wings to fly.”

“Right,” Wriothesley said, “Rex Lapis was always depicted flying through the air without them.”

Neuvillette paused, his gaze focusing far away, for a moment. “Yes. That is the form dragons from that region seem to take, in their folklore.”

“But then, Monstadt’s East Wind has four wings in the pictures?” Wriothesley said.

“Even he does not need them the way a bird would, I suspect. Dvalin would be Anemo-aligned, and therefore able to push the wind around him and use those wings as sails.”

Wriothesley frowned. “Is he…?”

“The Dragon Sovereign of the Air?” Neuvillette cocked his head to the side. “I am not certain. There are records of other elemental dragons.”

“… Am I allowed to ask about that?” Wriothesley said.

“I… am unsure. I am hardly in some grand conspiracy with a secret group of other dragons, other than an implied connection to the other Sovereigns. I do think Dvalin is the Anemo Dragon. It would explain how he survived so long through what he did. I will say that the two serpentlike Gods who attacked Liyue Harbor last autumn, within a few months of each other… are regarded in stories as lesser, hydro-aligned dragons, but I never met either of them.”

Wriothesley sucked a breath in through his teeth. “I saw a photograph of Osial’s attack. That guy was… huge. And that’s a lesser dragon?”

“Osial and Beisht predated the Archon War, as they are mentioned in the songs discussing it. They were each easily over a thousand years old even then. Dragons, like many other reptiles, do not stop growing as they age.”

“Right, you mentioned the size thing.” Wriothesley reached further back on Neuvillette’s head, towards his rhinophores.

Neuvillette pulled his head back. “The time for questions will be over if you distract me too much.”

Wriothesley grinned. “All right, that’s fair. I’ll behave. …What are those for again? Detecting water currents?”

“Water currents, salinity, and acidity. They are also the medium through which I sense elemental energy underwater. For them to detect such small signals, I suppose it only makes sense that they are… sensitive.”

Wriothesley nodded. “Can they sense anything in the air?”

“To some extent, elemental energy, mostly Hydro. But I also have Elemental Sight that reaches anything I can see, just like you and other Vision Holders.”

Wriothesley reached out for Neuvillette’s wing until he extended it for him to touch. “Part of me thought your whole body would be soft and squishy like your rhinophores,” he said.

“That would leave me quite defenseless,” Neuvillette chuckled. “No, it is only my rhinophores, which I can somewhat retract as a sea snail could, and… my hemipenes.”

“At your size, they wouldn’t fit in me at all if they were as rigid as mine,” Wriothesley pointed out. “…”

He furrowed his brow, thinking. “Do girl dragons have two clits?”

Neuvillette shrugged with his wings again. “I have never met one. The language of my… medical text implies that there is not a major difference in the sexual organs of male and female dragons.”

“What are the differences? I wouldn’t want to meet a Lady Sovereign and, I don’t know, get it wrong.”

Neuvillette raised both wings in a gesture that resembled a shrug. “There do not seem to be any. My being a drake and not a drakaina is just another part of my nature that I inherently understand. It is also why my human form, and the halfway-between form I wore most of my youth, appear male. Dragons with better a grasp of shapeshifting appear to be able to take various human forms, as well.”

“Oh, I read Rex Incognito in school along with all the other classics,” said Wriothesley. “Aren’t Monsieurs Gilde and Sterne writing an opera about that one?”

“They are adapting Liyue’s pre-existing opera of Rex Incognito,” Neuvillette hummed. “Furina wants me to… dress for it.”

It was very odd to see a dragon roll his eyes, especially when his face was not otherwise very expressive.

“Or perhaps, evening gown for it?” said Wriothesley.

“Hmm. It would be an opera gown. Unfortunately, she told the Melusines, and they also wish to see this.”

“Is there a petition I can sign--”

“You do not need to add to the tens of voices already speaking, when Kiara has already began drawing up patterns with Madame Chiori. I no longer have any choice in the matter.”

“Perfect.” He grinned, watching Neuvillette fidget.

“… Have you other questions, or would you prefer to simply tease me?”

“Oh, I bet I could do both,” Wriothesley said, but he relented, “Why the three beds? Nests?”

“The human-sized bed, I suppose I needn’t explain. The hot water in the spring soothes aches and encourages healing, due to my elemental alignment. And the sand… feeds a certain urge to burrow. The pressure gives a feeling of security and privacy, the lower temperature encourages me to sleep for longer, and when the time comes to shed my skin, moving through the sand helps me wiggle out.”

He said it as if reciting it. Actually--

“That medical text must have been thorough,” Wriothesley hummed.

“Ah. Yes. So exhaustively so that I had no questions whatsoever until recently,” said Neuvillette.

“Since I seem to learn something every other time I meet with you,” Wriothesley said, “Would be better for me to just borrow it?”

Neuvillette had been treading lazily in the water, paddling his webbed claws, his back and tail waving side to side. But now, he froze, and went totally still, his back rod-straight.

“No,” he said.

Wriothesley froze in place too. Had he overstepped his bounds? Neuvillette rarely gave him a hard stop.

Neuvillette flinched, then swam forward to lay a clawed hand the size of Wriothesley’s chest over his knee. “… Forgive me if I startled you. There are secrets in that tome that are not mine to tell, and I would not wish to move the book from its hiding place unless I needed to confirm something in its pages.”

His spine was waving again, but the motions were smaller and quicker. Nervousness, maybe?

“… I am starting to see why facial expression does not come naturally to you,” Wriothesley said. “I think I need to learn your body language one of these days.”

He patted the back of Neuvillette’s hand. “I think that’s all my serious questions, then.”

“… You have a… distracting question. Don’t you.”

“Oh, I sure do. If your claws are like this, how do you jerk off?”

Neuvillette pushed his head under the water and blew a long stream of bubbles. When he finally emerged, Wriothesley was still smiling expectantly.

“Why-- do you need to know thissss,” Neuvillette hissed.

“Something to think about in the bath?” Wriothesley lilted.

It had worked, though. Flustering Neuvillette had proven to be good way to shake him out of a bad mood, if it wasn’t over something too serious.

“Do you open that mouth really, really wide, and wrap your tongue around your dicks?” Wriothesley guessed. “Maybe even stick it inside?”

“I have too many teeth for sssssuch a thing--”

“That’s why I said open your mouth really wide! So they stay out of the way!”

A little shiver rippled its way down Neuvillette’s tail. “No. No, I have not-- tried that. If I thrusssted-- the danger--”

“… No, okay, that makes sense,” Wriothesley grinned. “But you do do something?”

“Ssssso do many other creaturessss, one way or another,” said Neuvillette.

Wriothesley pouted. “You don’t want to tell me? What if I tell you how I do it? These days, I also get in the bath, you know.”

“Wriothhhhessssley—”

The huge head bonked against his side. “You do not need to do thissss. You already have me where you want.”

“Maybe I genuinely want to know,” Wriothesley said. He pet the side of his scaled face, allowing Neuvillette to nuzzle into his hands.

“… In the ssssand…” Neuvillette finally said.

Wriothesley blinked. “You fuck the sand.”

Another little shiver that sent waves across the water. “Wet ssssand. I ussssse it for the presssure. Thissss is hardly sssomething you find arousing--”

“The urge to burrow extends to everything, huh.”

“… Many aquatic animals lay their eggs that way to keep them ssssafe…” Neuvillette couldn’t keep still now, waving in the water again. Wriothesley wondered, if he put his head under the surface, if he would see his cocks starting to push out of his body, with how antsy he was getting.

“That does make sense…” Wriothesley kissed the tip of his snout. “But now you put your eggs into me.”

The water splashed loud from the displacement as Neuvillette retook his human form. Wriothesley was about to ask if he’d pushed it too far again when he was pinned against the stone steps, his head grabbed in two clawed hands, for a desperate, hungry kiss.

Of course. Kissing would be difficult in the draconic form, with not much in the way of lips, and all of those teeth. What were the usual forms of showing affection for dragons? Wriothesley would have to ask later.

He was dragged underwater. Wriothesley had no trouble breathing with his Vision tied to his arm, but the sudden feeling of floating in the middle of the pool with nothing to steady himself against, save for Neuvillette himself, left him disoriented.

Grey hair floated around him like a cloud. Neuvillette’s tongue was hot and insistent in his mouth, and even underwater, Wriothesley could still hear the groans, the hisses, as his body rubbed itself against him. It turned out Neuvillette was emerging, rutting against Wriothesley’s belly, more than half out already.

How big would he be when he retook that other form? Wriothesley groaned at the thought, though more bubbles escaped his mouth than sound.

Actually-- he tapped Neuvillette’s cheek to get his attention, then pointed up towards the surface. He was pulled back up into the air, though Neuvillette could not quite keep still, tail wrapped around him again to hold him in place.

“I won’t drown, but I can’t talk in there either,” Wriothesley said, squeezing his shoulders. “We should-- talk before we just—”

“Oh. Of course.” Blue flashed across Neuvillette’s face. “I was going to prepare you with my tongue, and then take you under the water. Is that-- acceptable?”

“Acceptable,” Wriothesley wheezed, “Yes, fuck, more than acceptable-- how big are you like this? Can I see--”

“… Perhaps… we ssssstart in the ssssand,” Neuvillette decided. “I ssshould take longer care opening you for thisss...”

Wriothesley found himself being carried out of the water and into the sand pit. He was placed in the very center of it and pressed down under Neuvillette’s weight for another kiss, the sharp claws trailing over his body just barely light enough not to scratch, his two lengthening erections sliding wet and hot against Wriothesley’s, encouraging him to rise and stiffen too. When Wriothesley was worked up enough to start groaning and thrusting up against him and clutching at Neuvillette’s hair, Neuvillette pulled off of his mouth with a slow drag of his lips and started to kiss down his body, kneading at his belly and thighs carefully with his palms, claws turned outwards to protect him from scratches.

Neuvillette’s face reached the place between Wriothesley’s legs. His tongue wrapped around Wriothesley’s cock, tugging gently. Wriothesley moaned, fought to keep still like Neuvillette had warned him about, but this was all a distraction so Neuvillette could drape Wriothesley’s legs over his shoulders and slide his hands under his ass.

He licked up Wriothesley’s length one more time, lazily, as if he had not just been grinding down on him just as desperate, and moved to kiss his asshole. Those sharp blue eyes looked up at Wriothesley from over his thigh, and Wriothesley nodded.

“Do it,” he said.

Neuvillette had no trouble answering that request. The forked tip of his tongue traced around the rim of Wriothesley’s hole before dipping inside. Wriothesley had become partial to Neuvillette’s hard, sanded-down claws demanding his entrance open, far more than his own fingers, but the soft licks, the noticeable shift when Neuvillette rolled his tongue up or made it flat, the heat of it, had Wriothesley shuddering and clutching at the sand before long.

He felt the flutter of that tongue against his prostate, gentle, not nearly what claws or Neuvillette’s cocks could do. The soft urges of his tongue, the occasional lapping against that spot inside, had Wriothesley tender, relaxing into this deep kiss, arching his back and pushing his hips down to answer.

Neuvillette hardly seemed unaffected, lapping deeper, strange soft growls issuing from his throat that Wriothesley realized would be hisses, were Neuvillette’s tongue not far too deep inside him for that sound to be lost. Neuvillette pressed a palm flat against Wriothesley’s taint, nudging his balls aside, so he could shield the delicate skin with his hand and lick into him further without pricking him with his fangs.

“Neuvillette—” Wriothesley panted, “Surely-- surely that’s enough-- I’m ready--”

Neuvillette groaned and pulled his tongue out of Wriothesley in a long, slow side.

“For what I usually give you, perhapssss…”

He made his tongue flat and dragged it over Wriothesley’s balls, earning a shaky moan from him.

“But I am giving you sssssomething today that we sshhhould… work up to,” Neuvillette sighed, before continuing to lick at him, watching how it made Wriothesley shudder.

Wriothesley took a deep breath. “How much-- bigger is it, anyway? Can I see?”

Neuvillette pulled further back. He pressed the meat of his hands against Wriothesley's ass and pulled him open, as wide as he could make him go without forcing him too hard.

“Perhapssss… perhapssss… you are ready for the dragon’ssss tongue,” he decided. Neuvillette’s words were clumsy, his pupils so wide his eyes almost looked black. “Then, after thisss-- I ssssshall take you.”

“Yes, yes, do that,” Wriothesley said. “That’s a good idea, you should do that--”

Neuvillette sat up, licking his chops like a cat. He’d been kneeling, bent over while he licked him open-- to keep his cocks out the sand, Wriothesley thought, because they were dripping heavily, but looked clean.

Neuvillette rolled his shoulders, stretched up his arms, and in a slow, twisting motion, took on his other form. The scales rose out of his skin quickly as his flesh warped, his spin elongated, his hair molding together and forming his fins, those wings briefly spreading out and blocking most of the light. And Neuvillette’s cocks swelled, the hue shifting a deeper blue at the ends, and grew with him, to a size that…

Well, Wriothesley could see why Neuvillette had been so insistent that Wriothesley only take one of those at a time.

Wriothesley had, in encounters with previous lovers, happily taken a fist more than once, but the flared ends with their flukes were easily larger than an open hand. There was a very real possibility that this time, Neuvillette would not be able to fit an entire length into him.

Wriothesley started to sit up, to crawl towards him, eyes fixed on the two monsters he was up against, when Neuvillette tapped his snout against his chest to urge him to lay back down.

“Not yet,” Neuvillette hissed softly. “We sssstill have work to do.”

Wriothesley swallowed. “I can take more than you think,” he said weakly, but he knew Neuvillette was right. He needed more of a stretch before he could even dream of taking one of those cocks.

“Hold yoursssself open.” Neuvillette instructed.

Heat flashed through Wriothesley’s body at these words. He did as he was told, and hooked his elbows under his knees to present himself.

The dragon’s eyes were trained on him, sliding over his whole body, and then snapping back to focus between his legs. The gaze had a weight that left Wriothesley feeling pinned in place. A glob of precome dripped onto his belly.

Wriothesley was used to being the one in control, with him. He didn’t mind being held in place by a look alone, but… he wasn’t going to cede his power so easily.

He reached down between his legs and hooked his fingers into his entrance, then stretched himself as wide open as he could manage.

“Well, Monsieur? Do you want another taste?” he goaded.

It worked. Neuvillette growled and surged down, mouth open. The end of Neuvillette’s tail came around to hold Wriothesley down against the sand as the dragon’s tongue licked slowly up Wriothesley’s underside, his entrance, the fingers he used to hold it open, his balls, his shaft. At this size, Neuvillette’s tongue was larger than the cocks Neuvillette had given him in past encounters. It was much, much longer, and maybe thicker than both combined. Wriothesley could feel it stretching him as it licked into him, first playing with his rim, then dipping inside, before starting to work in and out of him, urging him further and further open.

Despite his bravado, Wriothesley was unable to keep quiet under this treatment, would have been squirming back down onto that tongue if Neuvillette’s tail was not holding him down. The only thing keeping him from coming just like this was that somehow, the powerful tongue that coaxed at his inner walls always shied just barely away from his prostate-- it was going much deeper than that, actually, so it was probably more accurate to say that Nuevillette was actively avoiding it. Was this mercy so Wriothesley could keep going longer, or selfishness so Neuvillette could cram inside him before he came?

Wriothesley craned his neck and tried to sit up enough to look over Neuvillette’s tail. To look down between his legs and see a dragon there-- Neuvillette had always been a dragon, he knew, but to see him like this, the seemingly endless body, the way his mouth hung open to fuck him with his tongue, the gleam of his knifelike teeth…

The sense of danger cut across his arousal like a knife, threatening to send him over the edge. Wriothesley shuddered, clenching his jaw. He was not going to finish just like this. Not when he could hold on just a little longer and get impaled on--

Neuvillette withdrew his tongue with a long slurping sound that made Wriothesley’s belly clench.

“Wriothhhesssely,” he said, “Relax. You are too tensssse.”

Wriothesley frowned and sat up on his elbows. “Monsieur, I am trying to hold on.”

“I sssssee.” The end of Neauvillette’s tail twitched in the sand beside him. “You are stubborn, you know. You have come before I was finissshed stretching you other times.”

“That was different. I want to be in full awareness of my senses when you drag me underwater and fill me with those.”

Neuvillette hissed, his back arching up, tail slapping the sand off to Wriothesley’s side. “Wriothesssley-- I am alsssso holding my patience, pleassse--”

“Are you? Why?”

“I would like to be able to do thissss without needing to carry you back into the Fortressss,” Neuvillette said.

He was kneading at the sand with his claws. Wriothesley laughed.

“Oh, Monsieur,” he said, “You can’t keep still when you’re worked up even in this form, can you…”

“This is serious,” Neuvillette huffed, but Wriothesley only smiled.

“I know, but you’re only going to be able to prepare me so much. I don’t think I’ve ever been this loose.”

“…” Neuvillette’s eyes narrowed in on Wriothesley’s anus. He wondered just what it looked like right now. Surely he was a mess, with Neuvillette’s drool dripping out of him, with sand stuck to his asscheeks.

“You could turn back and see how easy I take both of your cocks at the usual size if you’ll feel better, but I’m beginning to think you’re stalling.”

Neuvillette’s huge head turned away to look at the ceiling. “I would feel better, but… maybe too much…”

Wriothesley pet his tail, feeling the smooth scales, admiring how firm it was underneath. All muscle. So strong. And yet this nervous.

“You don’t want to finish off too early either, huh?” he said gently.

“Well…”

“Seems like a waste when we’ve put in all this work?”

Neuvillette nodded. His face did not emote much like this, but the way he moved was familiar enough that Wriothesley could all but see the sheepish, blue-flushed expression he might be making if they were having this conversation in his usual form. “I jusssst… want you ready… and don’t want you hurt. The eggs… may be a bit bigger, too, so I have reasonable concerns...”

Wriothesley bit back a moan thinking of that. “I will be fine, Monsieur. If I am in real trouble, I’ll tell you. Or-- blast you with ice if you seem not to hear.”

The dragon laughed. It was more of a percussive hiss, but Wriothesley could tell it was laughter, and he found himself laughing too.

“That ssshould send the message,” Neuvillette said. “Now…”

He shuffled closer, lifting his tail away. “Maybe you are right. Perhapssss we should just try.”

Wriothesley was about to try and sit up now that he was freed, or maybe plant his feet in the sand to raise his hips, but Neuvillette seemed to have an idea how to approach this scenario. His tail scooped at the sand under Wriothesley’s hips until he could slide a clawed hand under him and hold him up. It was an embarrassing position, really, sprawled with his shoulders on the ground and his hard dick waving in the air-- but Wriothesley had other things on his mind.

Neuvillette’s cocks loomed ever closer. Lubricant drizzled off of them, darkening the sand, as they approached. Neuvillette’s back curled higher, higher, so he could watch what he was doing, his wings sprawling out against the ground as a counterbalance.

Always a glutton for punishment, always needing to get the last word in--

“Neuvillette, come and take me,” Wriothesley breathed.

Neuvillette growled and pushed forwards the last few feet. The wide, weeping head of his cock-- the one on the rightg, Wriothesley had noticed he seemed to favor that one when he went one at a time-- brushed against Wriothesley’s entrance, first smearing around him in a circle, spreading lubricant over the whole area, before grinding against his hole, testing the resistance.

He was hesitating again. Wriothesley tilted his head back until he could catch Neuvillette’s eye.

“All wet for me, Monsieur?” he teased. “I told you, you don’t need to keep holding back like--”

He choked on his own breath as Neuvillette breached him. Even just the tip felt impossibly large, but surprisingly… Wriothesley took it just fine. Perhaps Neuvillette had stretched him better than he thought. The heavy coating of slick over all of Neuvillette’s cocks eased it, surely, and the way he was soft enough to squeeze into him certainly helped… but even so, Wriothesley was amazed he was able to take this much on the first press.

The flukes that spread out from the tip still proved to be trouble, as much as they had the first time he took him-- worse, maybe, because even if Wriothesley knew their shape very well now, they were so, so much larger. Neuvillette paused when he couldn’t press any further in, one of the flukes halfway inside with seemingly no room to go any further.

Wriothesley was not about to give up just like that. He shifted his hips, reminding himself to relax but also adjusting the angle. Working himself back and forth, knees shaking, he was finally able to urge the curved protrusion in.

“Wriothhhhessssley—” Neuvillette’s voice was soft, but it still bounced off the walls of the cavern, “You don’t have to--”

“No, no backing out now, I’m figuring it out,” Wriothesley grunted. “I want it-- twist like this--”

They worked at it together, Wriothesley rocking back and forth while Neuvillette found the angle to push himself further forwards. Neuvillette’s head rested in the sand near Wriothesley’s, nuzzling his cheek, pressing his snout against him as if to kiss, licking sweetly at his face. Wriothesley was achingly hard at this point, but the work of figuring out how to take all of this had him far too distracted to think about that.

Despite his encouragements, he was just as impressed as Neuvillette when he’d worked himself onto every one of the scalloped edges of his dick.

“That’s-- the hard part-- done.” he laughed. “See? Easy. Right?”

“Yesssss, you’ve proved your point,” Neuvillette said. “You ssssseem very proud of yourssself.”

He was panting. The claws on his back legs scrabbled at the sand, his spine stiff in its horseshoe curve above him.

“You should be too, I think, for staying so still,” Wriothesley hummed. “But since that’s always the hard part…”

“You can take more,” Neuvillette said quickly, and to his credit, he waited for Wriothesley to nod before he rocked his hips forward.

No amount of getting eaten out could have prepared Wriothesley for this. Yes, getting the flared head past his rim was the tricky part, and yes, it was easier for Neuvillette to push into him with the wide part already inside, but he’d never been pushed that open, that deep. The claw under Wriothesley pressed him up against the armored scales of Neuvillette’s underbelly, the exposed left cock sliding against Wriothesley’s, as Neuvillette carved out a space inside him. He could feel parts inside himself he’d never been able to feel before shifting out of the way.

He was definitely going to need to be carried home.

“Neuvillette, Neuvillette,” he stammered, “Neuvillette, you’re so-- so big-- f-feels--”

Neuvillette stilled. “Feelsssss…?”

“I didn’t say you had to stop,” Wriothesley groaned. “But… how much more…”

“Thisss is mossst of it--”

“Give me the rest then.”

Neuvillette shuddered, his wings beating against the sand. “Yessss--”

It was only a few more inches before Wriothesley felt the heated, sopping wet skin of Neuvillette’s vent press against his entrance.

He moaned in satisfaction. “There-- all the way-- I told you--”

Wriothesley certainly felt a strain. But he’d pushed himself this far, and now he wanted to see how much farther he could go.

“… You’re going to assssk for my ballssss now…” Neuvillette guessed.

Wriothesley snickered, smiling into the scales above his face. Could Neuvillette feel that? How sensitive was his hide?

“Honestly? I’m hoping you’ll go so hard you’ll complain it’s too much. I know you’re delicate there.”

Another wavering shudder from Neuvillette, another long, wanton hiss. “Wriothesssley…”

“Hmm?”

“I am taking you into the water now.”

“Oh--”

That was all the warning before Neuvillette held Wriothesley against his body with his claw and leapt, backwards, his body forming a perfect arc. There was barely a sound as they hit the surface, as the hot water rushed up to meet them, and they were both submerged.

Wriothesley was still snug against Neuvillette, spread open by him, his own erection nestled against the other one that much farther up his body than he thought it would from far away. Was that how deep Neuvillette was inside him? Wriothesley shivered despite the warmth around him, clenching instinctively but finding the girth inside him had no room to give.

Neuvillette shifted in the water, but did not move inside him. Instead, his tail coiled around one of Wriothesley’s legs, and his back twisted and turned, until Neuvillette was winding himself around Wriothesley like a spring, holding him in endless coils of the body too thick for Wriothesley to wrap his legs around all the way.

Neuvillette’s wings folded around him in what would have been a gentle embrace if not for the vice grip that was just light enough not to constrict his breathing. This was a mercy-- even as a Vision Holder who could breathe underwater, exerting himself too much would leave him breathless far faster than it would out in the air. Neuvillette seemed to be short of breath too, for how fast his gills fluttered when Wriothesley looked up into his face.

Wriothesley wiggled his arms until Neuvillette parted his coils to let his arms escape. He patted his sides gently in thanks.

“Is thissss--” --fuck, he knew Neuvillette was able to speak underwater, but the way the hiss rumbled through the current made the space around him vibrate, tingling all over-- “– All right?”

Wriothesley kissed the side of the coil closest to his face and nodded. He could feel Neuvillette swelling up even bigger inside him in the water already, but he’d adjusted to everything else Neuvillette had ever dished out. He trusted him.

Neuvillette arched his neck down to poke Wriothesley’s cheek with his snout.

“Jussssst… ride. Almossssst how you would in my lap.”

Wriothesley nodded again, and Neuvillette’s tongue flicked against his ear.

And then he started to move. The thick walls of Neuvillette’s curling body shifted, squeezing ever so slightly, then rolling in waves in a way that seemed half-reminiscent of the times Wriothesley had been with him in the bath. When the movement rolled down to Neuvillette’s hips where they met Wriothesley’s, his dick was pulled back, then pushed back in as the motion continued. Neuvillette moaned in that way that sang through the water, his tongue flickering out again, and Wriothesley answered, though it wasn’t loud enough in the water even to reach his own ears. He settled for petting Neuvillette’s sides and kissing across his scales to show his approval as Neuvillette did it again.

Layers of pressure were fighting for attention, the pressure of Neuvillette curled over and over around him, the gentle feeling of the water around him, the friction of the hot slide of Neuvillette’s left cock against his own and against his body, the vacuum of emptiness as Neuvillette pulled back, and the incredible, incomprehensible press as he plunged back in. The first few thrusts this way were slow, almost lazy, but Wriothesley was already shaking, heart pounding, holding on tight.

And then, of course, Neuvillette sped up. The practically gentle push and pull of those first few thrusts gave way to something more insistent, more brutal, and Wriothesley still took it with alarming ease, which perhaps he would have been more worried about if it wasn’t so good, being surrounded, being taken so deep, the water churning above as Neuvillette got faster still.

It wasn’t until the massive shape inside him pressed far too precisely against Wriothesley’s prostate that he realized that this had been Neuvillette controlling himself. Wriothesley shuddered and did what he could to slam back down in answer as the pleasure shook him, sharp and sudden, and Neuvillette constricted him just a little tighter before hitting that spot again, harder.

Wriothesley was at the Sovereign of Water’s mercy. Fucked open until he was molded for his shape, rocking down to meet him in a motion that was, yes, rather like how he did it when he sat in his lap, but felt so different like this. There was no escape from the body holding him in this surrounding grip, its waving thrusts now slamming up into him and hitting him right where he wanted it again and again, every curved edge inside rubbing against it, as Wriothesley clutched tighter in response, grinding against the cock that pressed against his, both of them leaking trails of white into the water.

He’d never felt this vulnerable before in a way that felt safe. And it was good, really good. The constant growls and hisses that echoed through the water were building towards that roar that Wriothesley loved to hear, and he knew he didn’t have much long either, from how he throbbed against Neuvillette’s cock, from how his heart was booming in his ears.

And yet, he wanted some control back.

Wriothesley wiggled and reached until Neuvillette brought his head down to him to accept a shower of kisses along his jaw. The surging rolls of his body did not slow, so Wriothesley’s hands were somewhat clumsy as he stroked his face, reaching back--

Until he had both of Neuvillette’s rhinophores in hand, and he tugged as hard as he could.

Neuvillette threw his head back and howled. The shudder that wracked through him was not purposeful as the motions he’d been making, but it had him pushing harshly into Wriothesley nonetheless. Wriothesley grinned and pulled again, bringing both of the antennae down to kiss, messily, looking up into Neuvillette’s eyes and holding his gaze.

“Wriothhhhhessssss--”

The water rushed past them as Neuvillette dove to the bottom of the pool, taking Wriothesley with him. He was pressed down into the soft sand at the bottom, laid against a bed of glowing gems that sent flickering light everywhere, as Neuvillette coursed into him with a speed that broke Wriothesley’s understanding, the flukes of his cock dragging against his walls endlessly until Wriothesley couldn’t tell when he was pushing out or back in, and Wriothesley’s back arched into the ever-constricting bends of Neuvillette’s body as he felt himself tighten, almost to his peak--

But Neuvillette came first. There shouldn’t have been room for his spend, with how he filled him so entirely, but Wriothesley could feel it, almost boiling hot and thick, rushing into him, clouding the water between their hips. Neuvillette dug his head into the sand next to Wriothesley’s and cried out, his voice ragged around the edges even as his roar filled the space around them, his hips still snapping down into Wriothesley, as he still yanked at Neuvillette’s soft horns with a need to see him like this longer--

He was so close now that he would have yelled in protest when Neuvillette pulled out if he could hear him, even though he knew very well what came next. The wide end of Neuvillette’s cock caught against the rim of Wriothesley’s anus as he pulled it out, and yet, he shoved his other one, the left one, the one he’d only been rubbing against him, right inside him without any attempt at delicacy.

It should have hurt, but Wriothesley was far too gone now, pushing right back onto him, needing more contact, he was so close, he’d held on long enough to see Neuvillette lose himself like this and now--

Another roar ripped through the water as Neuvillette started to fill Wriothesley with eggs. Hilted far deeper into him than Wriothesley had ever imagined, Neuvillette quaked above and around him as the torrent of soft, round shapes pushed into Wriothesley, and once again he could feel his own body shifting to accommodate this. They were bigger than usual, and Wriothesley could feel each one pushing out at his walls, squishing against each other, rubbing against everything inside him--

It was finally too much. Wriothesley spasmed, clinging, tugging on Neuvillette’s rhinophores, grinding his hips up against him, mouth open and sloppily forming the shapes of Neuvillette’s name as he came. His eyes were shut tight, and so he did not see how the water between them filled with white, did not get any warning beyond a tension in Neuvillette’s coils before he was dragged up out of the water and back into the sand, still coming hard over Neuvillette’s scales and gasping desperately as his lung readjusted to air.

Neuvillette started to move again, fucking him shallowly, pushing the eggs deeper, deeper, to make room for the ones still pushing out into him. Wriothesley thrashed in Neuvillette’s hold and moaned his name again, sending one last great wash of cum across his belly before he fell back into the embrace of the scaled coils, shuddering, little spurts still shooting out more seed as he fought his aftershocks.

Neuvillette held him close, air whistling through his gills as he also fought to catch his breath. Inside of Wriothesley, his cock was starting to shrink back and retract.

“Remembered… almossst too late… that eggs in the water is a risssk,” the dragon panted quietly. “Wroithhh… Wriothhhesssley, you are so…”

Wriothesley blinked, half snuggled into Neuvillette’s tail.

“Neuvillette… did we just use the pull-out method?” he rasped.

“Well—” Neuvillette squirmed. Wriothesley winced when this tugged the end of Neuvillette’s dick out of him.

“Yes or no?”

“Not-- really. I could alwayssss have ssscooped them out before anything took. But-- yesss. I shhhould have-- thought more. Sssssorry.”

Wriothesley smirked, pressing his cheek into the warm scales under him.

“Is the pull-out method in your biology textbook?” he asked.

“Wriothhhhessssley—”

Embarrassingly, after a few more attempts to tease Neuvillette, he fell asleep. When Wriothesley woke up in Neuvillette’s bed again, he was unbelievably sore, even numb in places, but he was clean and dry and in a fresh nightshirt. He was almost unable to move at all, and would not have been able to stand, let alone walk. He had to keep insisting to Neuvillette that he would be fine while the dragon fussed over him, applying all sorts of salves to interesting types of bruises Wriothesley had never seen before, coddling him, feeding him.

There was a reason he usually brushed Neuvillette off when he tried to baby him like this. It didn’t sit right with him. The only people Wriothesley could remember treating him so gently… well, they hadn’t had Wriothesley’s best interests in mind, nor the best interests of the other children at the group home, which was why Wriothesley had to kill them.

But Neuvillette had rendered him all but useless with the battering he’d given him underwater, and Wriothesley felt no fear, no anxiety, just pleasured, glowing exhaustion. After all that, with a little time and rest, he was going to be fine. He decided privately that he could let Neuvillette spoil him a little if it would make him feel better. It wasn’t like he really minded this treatment.

Right now, safe and sore in Neuvillette’s watery lair, he could let himself be weak for a little while.

The day after he received Zhongli’s scale, Ajax went about his day perfectly normally. No one asked about the bandages on his thumb-- he got into scrapes all the time and his subordinates would never dare ask about his injuries anyway.

And no one would know. Maybe someone else would have been sad that they became the mate of one of the Seven Sovereigns and no one was the wiser, but the feeling of getting away with this only filled Ajax with glee. Pride, too, when he got dressed the next morning and saw the soft look in Zhongli’s eyes when he kissed the scale before sliding it into his breast pocket.

But the outward-faced edge of the scale was sharp. It had almost cut its way out of Ajax’s pocket and fallen out when he caught it and wrapped it up before putting it into his purse.

“I suppose you could fix it into a necklace,” Zhongli suggested, when Ajax explained the situation that night at dinner. “Then it could be hidden, if you wish, and you would feel it if it fell.”

Ajax opened his mouth and let Zhongli feed him an eggroll.

“Have you reconsidered learning to use chopsticks properly?” Zhongli added, as an afterthought.

“No one expects a foreign ambassador to actually be good with those,” Ajax said, once he’d swallowed his bite. “And you like feeding me.”

Zhongli fed him another eggroll.

“Anyway, I’m not putting it on a necklace, because you’ll get all worried when it cuts me, and I’d rather you cut me on purpose,” Ajax said. “And I don’t really want to sand down the edge either. That seems disrespectful! Tea please.”

“You can drink tea without my help.”

“… Please, Xiansheng? For your mate?”

Zhongli picked up Ajax’s teacup and helped him drink, though he heaved a great sigh as he did so. “You are right that I would rather you not get cut up from wearing my scale. Ideally, you would only ever wear marks I gave you on purpose.”

Ajax drank deeply, and kissed the edge of the teacup before he pulled away. He watched Zhongli’s eyes follow his lips.

“It’s not like I really have to hide it either. Right?”

Zhongli hummed and held up another eggroll. “That is true. In this age, you would have no reason to conceal it.”

“Do you want to see me wearing it, Xiansheng? You would see it and know. I like seeing your new scale on you…”

“Yes,” Zhongli admitted, “It would make me happy.”

And so, Ajax had the scale fixed onto a pauldron. He already went about his day semi-armored, which was a marker of status for a Schneznayan, and the dark, gleaming shape looked enough like an armor plate for it to draw no questions-- though Nadia at the door had admired it aloud.

“That’s a beautiful piece, sir,” she sighed with envy.

Ajax grinned. “Thank you! It was a gift. I just had it fitted to sit alongside my other pieces. I think I’ll wear it every day. Doesn’t it bring out my eyes?”

No one would dare ask a Harbinger where he received armor from, so there was no risk of his relationship with Zhongli becoming any less a secret, though he was sure some of his people had their suspicions. There was a chance that the answer to any personal question would be a state secret, after all.

Zhongli was certainly enthusiastic in his greetings when Ajax went to pick him up from work still wearing it. He wore it still when they changed into pretty silks (Zhongli had caught a glimpse of them in the market last week and hinted he’d like to give them to Ajax as a present, then discovered that once again only Ajax had his wallet) and went onto the Pearl Galley to enjoy the evening’s performances. Ajax made a show of trying to use chopsticks so badly that he was eating out of Zhongli’s hands once again without even needing to ask.

He’d been practicing in secret, of course, but he would surprise Zhongli with that when his technique was perfect. Until then, he liked making the staff at every restaurant they visited scramble to find where they kept their “foreigner cutlery”.

These happy days stretched on interrupted for more than a week. Work for the bank-- easy enough these days, just smiles and threats with clients-- pick Zhongli up, get dinner, and go to bed, sometimes with no time for sleep until it was time to go to work again.

Then came a day where Zhongli was told that he would be needed for a “rush customer” late that evening. How that teenager who ran the funeral parlor always knew when someone would bring her a body was a secret Ajax’s men had yet to figure out, but it meant that Ajax was left to walk home by himself. He went out to stroll by the pier and get something cheap and deep-fried to eat, when he heard a lyre playing.

Liyue Harbor was a major port for travel, trade, and diplomacy, so it went without saying that there were often foreigners around, especially near the docks, and there was certainly a healthy population of traveling musicians from every part of the world.

Ajax only noticed this musician in particular because he was so short he had to stand on two crates to be seen, and even then, his floppy green hat barely peeked over the heads of some of the adults in the gathered audience.

His playing, also, was quite good, the kind that Zhongli would call refined to excellence through years of practice.. The Victories of Saint Vanesssa was a classic Monstadter ballad, and the sweet trills of the lyre and the soft call of the musician’s voice drew the crowd in-- Ajax included-- as if Saint Vennessa were a close personal friend, whose struggles affected the singer greatly. With nowhere to be for awhile, Ajax went and got some fish skewers before coming back to hear the rest of the bard’s performance.

“All right, all right, that’s all the work my voice can take for now,” the bard giggled, setting his instrument down and clapping his hands together. “Thank you, everyone, for listening, and the tips-- though honestly, if some of you would like to tip me in liquor, I really am parched--”

“You’re too little to drink!” said a little girl in the front of the audience, jabbing a finger at him accusingly. This earned a hearty laugh from the crowd as it started to disperse. The bard took off his hat and collected a few more Mora from the children gathered near before he started to gather his things.

That was when he turned and gave Ajax a hard look. The soft green of his eyes became something far too deep and dangerous as his gaze focused on his new pauldron.

“Where’d you get that, mister?” he chirped.

His sweet smile no longer reached his eyes.

Ajax frowned. “A man with a really good armorer doesn’t share, so he can stay a cut above the others,” he said.

“Hmm. Yeah, that’s something Schneznayans nobles say. Where’d you get it, though?” He hopped off of the crates, taking a second longer than expected to land, and picked up his lyre. “I’d really like it if you told me.”

This boy thought Ajax seemed like nobility? Maybe Zhongli’s elocution lessons really were wearing off on him. “I already said, I’m keeping it a secret.”

“Yeah, I heard you, it’s just that it looks so familiar. Maybe I know the armorer and would like to catch up with him.”

Who was this? How much did he know? The expression behind those green eyes was unreadable as they glowed in the light of the sunset.

“What did you do to get something like that, I wonder?” he asked, his voice pitching down into a minor key. The wind between them swirled strangely.

Ajax could see the Anemo vision on the boy’s belt. Whoever he was, and whatever his problem was, and as much as he’d love a good fight if this guy was any good, if he caused another public scene in Liyue Harbor, he might get deported and he did not want the kind of trouble that landed him in with the Tsaritsa.

(Not to mention, the Balladeer would laugh at him until his voicebox fell out. And how would Ajax be able to see Zhongli if he got posted on the opposite side of the world?)

Ajax scowled. “If you knew who I was, you wouldn’t be asking personal questions,” he said. “Back off while you still have the chance.”

He whirled on his heels and marched up the stairs into the city proper. Just when he thought he’d lost the musician, the boy hopped out of the alley behind the antique store.

“There you are!” he laughed. “Now, come on. Tell me where you got that pauldron.”

“Fuck off.” Ajax said.

“Hmm… no.”

“I don’t remember causing trouble for anyone in Monstadt,” Ajax said through his teeth. “I am asking you nicely to leave me alone. Neither of us really want trouble here. In the middle of the street. Outside the nicest restaurant in town.”

“Can I make a guess, then?” said the bard. The wind picked up behind him, fluttering his cloak, putting out several lanterns that had just been lit.

“Did you get it by… desecrating a corpse?”

He asked it like he was talking about the weather, but Ajax did not trust his tone. Especially if he really had figured out it was one of Rex Lapis’s scales, assumed Ajax had got this by robbing a grave, and cared about what happened to the corpse of another nation’s god when everything about this boy screamed Monstadt.

Ajax grinned anyway, nastily, showing every last one of his teeth.

“If you know what it is, mister,” he said, “Why are you asking me where I got it?”

“I guess that does sound like something you guys would do. But why, then, would you only wear one, if you were showing off? Why not wear the whole pelt?”

The air around Ajax was suddenly too thin to breathe. He felt fine otherwise, so this wasn’t psychological, wasn’t a heart attack, wasn’t another weird kickback from his Delusion of his Abyssal poisoning.

And then the air rushed back and Ajax breathed deeply, through his nose so he wouldn’t start gasping and showing fear.

“Wellllllll,” the little musician said in sing-song, “If that was the case, your superiors would have told you off for flaunting such a theft! So it must be a coincidence, right?”

“Sure,” Ajax said. “A coincidence. You now, if you’re really so interested in my accessories, we could go outside the city and have a nice, long talk about it.”

“Oooh, I see! You’re on a chain.” The boy’s laugh was musical, like bells, like a choir, and it grated on every one of Ajax’s nerves. “But no thanks! You aren’t my type. And you’re a little young for me.”

This boy was not the age he looked. An Adeptus? Ajax didn’t know of any who took non-Liyuean forms, but that didn’t mean it never happened. Maybe he was a Hydro Eidolon or some other sort of regional fairy. He definitely wasn’t a ghost, because Ajax had watched him accept real money into his hat from guests.

“Just tell me. Did you take that out of the Golden House?”

“No. Now leave me be, I have work to do.”

The wind died down, and the lanterns came back on. The music tinkering out of the nearby shops started up again.

“Then it’s like mine, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ajax said.

“I said… it’s like mine.”

The bard reached under his cloak, into his shirt, and pulled at a dark cord tied around his neck. Ajax’s hand went to his belt for his longbow, ready for whatever weapon the boy was planning to pull out of concealment--

But what was on the end of the cord was not a knife. It was a scale.

It was long and bladed, shaped almost like a feather, a vibrant shade of blue just barely greener than the color of the sky.

This boy was another dragon’s mate.

“See? We’re the same.”

Chapter Text

Zhongli left his late-evening appointment at the funeral parlor in more or less high spirits and immediately smelled wine on the wind. Its scent, strong and sweet and floral, filled his senses. It promised sunny afternoons laughing under the shade of a tree, warm evenings watching the stars with good company.

Barbatos, the god of Wind and Freedom, was in Liyue Harbor. And he was nearby.

“They have been saying you flew off into the sky to never return,” he said, quietly, into the night air. He knew Barbatos would be able to hear him. “Come out where I can see you.”

“They’ve also been saying you’re dead,” came a familiar, playful voice from directly above. Barbatos was standing on the roof of the building opposite the Wangsheng funeral parlor.

At least he had the sense not to call him Morax in public where someone might overhear.

Barbatos stamped his foot. “But now I find out you’re MATED?”

Slowly, Zhongli smiled. So soon after the scale exchange, his elemental signature would still carry traces of the Hydro energy in Ajax’s scale. Barbatos must have sensed it when he caught his scent in the wind.

“I am,” he said. “I was considering whether I should tell you.”

“You harlot,” Barbatos hissed. He leapt off the roof to land directly in from of Zhongli, glaring up at him, his little hands balled into fists. “Slag. Whore. You didn’t even tell me you were seeing someone!”

“I only knew you were not still sleeping because the Traveler told me he met you,” Zhongli said. “And, as you put it, I am supposed to be dead.”

Barbatos rolled his eyes. “Dead and mated.”

“Retired, and mated, in truth,” Zhongli corrected.

“Retired with a job? What’s the point of that?”

“Plenty of the elderly pick up some side work to fill their time.”

“Stop trying to deflect!” Barbatos jabbed him in the chest with a finger. “You went and-- and-- paired off, without telling me, without introducing him, and without letting me throw you a stag party!”

He was glaring daggers, but there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

“Barbatos,” Zhongli said gently, “Are you truly just upset I did not allow you to plan a human bachelor party, or are you frustrated that I am now off the market?”

Barbatos’s jaw dropped. “How dare you.” he said, “Imply that my indignation is not as the only friend you have who is worthy of being your best man. Of course I know you’re the type to be exclusive when you get mated-- unless you put a clause about infidelity in your contract?”

Zhongli blinked. Being mated with Ajax was his reward from another contract. He had not written up a document for the scale exchange itself. Becoming mated was almost the oldest type of contract there was, and so had had felt no need for embellishment. Ajax was a part of him now, and he a part of Ajax. That was all there was to it.

“You seem rather hopeful that we have an infidelity allowance clause,” he said, instead of explaining any of that.

Barbatos shoved him in the chest. “Only because he’s the worst!”

Zhongli smiled wider. “You met him?”

“Sure I did! But he wouldn’t tell me anything! And then he holed up in Liuli Pavilion in a private room so I couldn’t follow him! And the room he’s in doesn’t have any windows so I can’t just--”

Zhongli’s expression fell and his contentment gave way to a scowl.

“Barbatos,” he said slowly, “Were you harassing my mate?”

“Uh.”

Barbatos took a step back.

Zhongli put a hand on his shoulder. In these forms, Zhongli was only a head or two taller than Barbatos, but he could hold him with the full weight of his truth body, and Barbatos, as a wind sprite, was made up no almost no substance at all.

“Were you following him and badgering him with personal questions? Did you make threats? Is this why he chose to hide himself away?”

“Uhhh. Well.” Barbatos tried to laugh. “I didn’t know where he got that scale he was wearing from. So I wanted to be sure! You know. When I figured out you really gave it to him I showed him mine but he still wouldn’t talk--”

“Enough,” Zhongli said sharply. “You have caused my mate distress. This is, by extension, an insult to me, as the one who gave him that scale. Or have you forgotten?”

Barbatos squirmed out of Zhongli’s grip. “I was just curious,” he whined. “You never date anymore. Or even mess around!”

“Clearly, that has changed,” said Zhongli. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must go an apologize to Ajax for your behavior.”

He turned sharply and walked towards the Liuli Pavilion, his footfalls heavy. But behind him, the wind swirled, as feather-light steps followed him.

“Great! We can go together and you can clear the whole misunderstanding up. Then, we can all get drunk on whatever liquor the Liuli Pavilion keeps on the top shelf and you can tell me your whole sweet love story--”

“No.” Zhongli said. “Get out of my sight before you anger me any further.”

“Hmmm. You know, even if you send me flying away and pin me to the mountains behind the city, I’ll still find you, right? Imagine how annoying I’ll be then.”

“…”

“I’ve been going by ‘Venti’, by the way,” Barbatos said. “What about you?”

He sighed, his shoulders falling. “… ‘Zhongli’.”

“Awww, that’s a pretty name. It suits you!”

There was no escaping the wind. Zhongli might as well smooth things over if Ajax was truly upset.

Maybe he should find him some flowers-- ah, no. He had forgotten his wallet again today. Zhongli had realized this at lunchtime when he had to put his meal on Ajax’s tab. He would have to approach Ajax with his apology empty-handed this time. He could climb the hill and see if Madame Ping would lend him some Glaze Lilies, but that was in the opposite direction of the restaurant, and Zhongli needed to see Ajax urgently.

The hostess at the Liuli Pavilion was happy to let Zhongli into the private room he shared with Ajax, and to stop Barbatos from following him in.

“Xiansheng?” Ajax dropped the chopsticks he’d been holding incorrectly and picked up his fork. “I thought I would see you at home.”

Zhongli sat in the chair next to his and took his hands. “I would like to offer you an apology.” he said.

Ajax narrowed his eyes, though he let Zhongli pull him into his lap. “Is this about your friend?” he said. “Is he bothering you too?”

“Always,” Zhongli sighed. “Venti is… a friend, yes. A very old friend.”

“Uh huh. Why? He’s so...”

“That can be explained more thoroughly back at the apartment,” Zhongli murmured. “I do not know how much of his own nature he wishes to reveal.”

“You’re bringing that guy back to our place?”

“You have seen what he is like.” said Zhongli, “I would prefer we had this conversation on our terms rather than him following us around. Like me, he has… nothing but time.”

“And a mate.” Ajax said. “Is he here too?”

“… I have not sensed him,” Zhongli said. “But finish your meal first. He can stand to wait outside in the cold awhile.”

“It is not that cold here,” Ajax snorted. “I’m pretty much done. I’ll have them box the rest up.”

Carrying armfuls of takeout boxes containing most of the feast Ajax had left untouched on the table, they walked back to the apartment.

“Hello again!” Barbatos-- well, Venti-- cheered as he started to follow them, popping out from an alley. “Where’s the afterparty?”

“We are going back to Zhongli’s apartment because he’s protecting your secrets,” Ajax said, “Not that that will matter, since I am a Fatui Harbinger.”

“Are you?” Venti looked at Zhongli with his eyebrows raised, clearly questioning his taste in men.

Ajax smiled. “Tartaglia, the Eleventh. I maintain the local branch of the Northland Bank. It’s not really a secret, so there’s no point in beating around the bush.”

“You see why I had to retire,” Zhongli remarked.

Venti pulled a face. “You did that for him?”

“Not exactly. But it was a… weighted factor in my decision. Living as who I was would have made it difficult to pursue him, seeing as he was here to fight me.”

“… Right.”

They returned to the apartment and closed the windows.

“So,” Ajax said, “How do you know this guy?”

“Oh, we met in the war.” Venti said idly, draping himself across a couch.

“The war. Which one. Cataclysm? Stone Gate Territory Dispute? Conquest of the Chasm?”

“No, no. Archon.”

“Oh. Of course. The Arch--”

Ajax paused as the words caught up to him. “The Archon War.”

“Uh huh.”

“…”

“…”

Slowly, Ajax grinned. Zhongli knew that look. It meant trouble.

“So, how far did you fly when La Signora kicked--”

“YOU ARE MATED TO A HARBINGER.” Venti shouted at Zhongli.

Zhongli startled “… I am well aware of who he works for.”

“Oh, Celestia. Of course. She helped you pull off this whole thing. It’s always been-- Oh, I know what we’ll do,” Venti grabbed a lace tablecloth and draped it over his head like a veil, batting his lashes. “We’ll have Morax drop the Exuvia on the battlefield! Then, everyone will think he’s dead. While they’re celebrating, Egeria can wash them out and I’ll freeze them in place so Murata can--”

“Please do not do an impression of Anya here. I would like to avoid giving Ajax a religious crisis,” Zhongli said stiffly.

Ajax was, indeed, staring in horror. Venti’s impression of the Tsaritsa was just a little too spot-on. “Anya?” He whispered.

“… Let’s all calm down and open a jar of plum wine.” Zhongli sighed.

He poured them all drinks and situated himself on the other couch. Ajax sat across his lap, clinging to his arm possessively.

The two gods and the Harbinger stared each other down.

“I met Ajax when I had just begun to work at the funeral parlor,” Zhongli said, “I showed him around the city, and affection grew between us. I did not pursue him openly until after he knew what I was.”

“Then I challenged him to a duel and he got rock hard.” Ajax supplied smugly.

“Duels are a common form of courtship for dragons,” Zhongli said evenly. He could not let Ajax rile him up while they had a guest. It would not be appropriate. “And my overtures into human courtship had not gone far, with you, so I had been… frustrated.”

“I doubt a Schneznayan would know which way of tying the knots on your blouse meant you were actively pursuing him,” Venti said. “Or did you wear culturally significant perfumes and wait for him to notice~?”

“…” Zhongli poured himself another drink.

Ajax snickered, the teasing seeming to make him let his guard down.

“So,” he said, gesturing to Venti, “Who’s the lucky dragon?”

“My East Wind, of course.” Venti pulled the scale out from underneath his clothes.

Zhongli did not miss how Ajax tensed, as if he were expecting him to produce a weapon. “How is Dvalin? I understand the Traveler helped heal him from Abyssal poisoning. You must be relieved.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s fine,” Venti said. “Aether went back and visited him once a week for a while to fight him again and chase away the traces of the poison, so he should be pretty much all the way better now.”

Zhongli froze, his cup halfway to his lips. “You haven’t been to see him?”

“I said I’m sure he’s fine!” Venti said quickly.

“You have not been to see him. After sleeping for hundreds of years, while he was being tortured--”

“I didn’t know!”

“– You have not been to visit your mate, even once?” Zhongli leveled a serious, heavy look on Venti, until he started to squirm in his seat.

“He’s no longer worshiped by the people of Monstadt, and his duties as the East Wind are concluded.” Venti said quietly. “You know what they say… if you love someone, set them free. After all that, I’m sure he doesn’t want to bother with me. I’m hardly a legend these days myself.”

Venti’s hands were shaking as he poured himself another drink, a strained laugh bubbling up from his chest. “I can’t go back to him now. What if he asks for his scale back?”

“He will not,” Zhongli said. “He did not choose you for your status or your power. That is a reason dragons choose someone to reproduce with, but not a reason to choose a mate.”

Venti started to chug the liquor so he wouldn’t have to answer.

“Dragons can get divorced?” Ajax whispered. His hand fluttered to his new pauldron, where Zhongli’s scale sat so handsomely on his shoulder.

“In theory,” Zhongli said gently, “But I cannot recall a time I have heard of it happening. What you are witnessing is insecurity from a wind sprite who has drunk himself into self-doubt.”

“I have not,” Venti said, “I am looking at the situation realistically. He has not come to see me either, you know.”

“No, instead, he visibly circles the entrance to his lair in the heart of his territory, waiting for you to return.”

“Like when you wait outside the door for me to come home?” Ajax asked Zhongli.

“Exactly like that. It is the same display. He is inviting his mate to visit.”

“He’s just flying all over the place. He’s waiting for Aether to come back if he’s still sick. He’s not--”

“Waiting outside the entrance,” Zhongli continued to lecture, favoring educating Ajax over humoring Venti’s deflections, “Shows that he has prepared the den to receive him, and is anxious to re-enter together, rather than go in to sleep alone.”

“No it doesn’t,” Venti said, his voice wavering. “That would mean he forgives me.”

Zhongli raised an eyebrow. “Well, you said it yourself.”

“I’m here to ask about your relationship anyway!” Venti hiccuped, slamming his cup on the table.

“Hey, I bought those,” Ajax protested, as if he had not purchased many other things in the apartment. “Like Zhongli-Xiansheng said, he guided me around the city when I had just come here to take over the bank. He saw me accepting honors from the local Fatui, so I told him who I was. But he didn’t change how he acted around me. He kept being the same absentminded, sexy old fox, telling me about the history and customs of the city.”

“I am not a fox. I am a dragon,” Zhongli pressed.

Ajax only smiled.

“Then, when I had finished learning how to handle the bank, the previous manager took me onto the Pearl Galley for his sendoff. Through the music and the courtesans and the crowd, I heard a familiar voice, lecturing another guest on the difference between the blessings associated with different Adepti, and I looked up and saw Xiansheng holding court at a table crowded with withered historians, debating how to interpret the metaphors in Moonlit Bamboo Forest. None of them were looking at the dancers. Then he looked up and locked eyes with me, and I knew I was done for.”

Zhongli’s breath caught in his throat. Ajax had not told him this story.

“And yet you approached my table and asked me how I was going to pay for my meal,” he recalled.

Ajax grinned cheekily. “I wasn’t going to realize I loved you and not go talk to you.”

“… That is pretty cute,” Venti admitted sullenly. “I still don’t think you should trust him.”

“Ajax and I have had long discussions on this subject,” Zhongli said. “We have an understanding with each other, about what we do and do not discuss, about what we can trust each other with.”

“I would have a lot more to lose than gain if I betrayed him now. We already have his Gnosis, too, after all, so at this point I’m just in Liyue as a regular ambassador,” Ajax added.

Venti threw back the rest of his drink to pour himself yet another. “Well… as long as Morax is happy,” he mumbled.

Zhongli smiled, resting a hand on the back of Ajax’s waist.

“I am.”

“Say it one more time,” Furina said slowly, “You can’t come to the benefit dinner with me because you have… a date.”

“Yes,” said Neuvillette gravely, “As I am sure you remember, Duke Wriothesley and I formalized our relationship quite recently-- one month ago, as of the night of the benefit. To celebrate thirty days of being official, I will be taking him out on the lake.”

(Neuvillete hated the benefit dinners with the Coastline Beautification Council.)

“The moon will be full,” Neuvillette continued, “And the city from the water at high tide is a beautiful sight.”

(The Coastline Beautification Council had been founded by noblewomen with honest intentions, but in the twenty years since, it had fallen to little more than a social club that occasionally organized beach cleanup days. It had done little to handle the more serious issues, such as debris from the Fontaine Research Intitute’s explosion that cluttered the shorelines in the Liffey Region, or the strange chemicals in the water there afterwards, which was harming the wildlife.)

(And yet, because the people in the Council were all of a certain rank, twice a year, Neuvillette was forced to go to their benefit dinner and listen to the members prattle on about their paltry efforts for the view right outside the city while barely mentioning any coastline that was not a popular beach. His efforts in the past to bring these issues to light had fallen on deaf ears. Neuvillette had been able to bring up these concerns with other municipal organizations and the environmental wing of the Research Institute. That didn’t make dealing with the City Beautification Council anything short of miserable.)

“You’re just trying to get out of going with me,” Furina sniffed. “All because you find the Comtesse and her friends tiresome?”

Neuvillette wasn’t lying. He really had planned an outing. And Wriothesley had signed off on using him as an excuse the very day they got together.

“I have already reserved a small rowboat,” he said. “I cannot cancel my reservation or have my deposit refunded.”

The Archon of Justice scowled. “You can afford it,” she said.

Neuvillette could see a proper storm of a tantrum brewing behind his eyes. If he didn’t relent, he was going to bear the full brunt of her outbursts.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself was at stake. It was either acquiesce to Furina and be spared her anger, then be brought into that flock of brightly-colored hypocrites for an entire evening only to arrive home drunk from trying to restrain his temper until far too early in the morning. Or he could go to the lake, with Wriothesley. They could catch fish and roast them on some private shore, go diving to dig up clams, and make love in the surf.

Perhaps Wriothesley would wear clothes suited for boating. With a sailor-style collar, or even very short trousers, in the Monstadt style…

“Furina,” Neuvillette said, “I am sure you are aware how long it has been since I had someone like this.”

Furina frowned. “Several decades, or more than two centuries, depending what you’re counting as having someone. But--”

“I would really like for things with His Grace to go well,” he hinted.

“But you’ll throw me to those old ladies alone? Just for that?”

“It can’t be helped,” Neuvillette said, “There is only one first month anniversary. And this is the last full moon before the mid-summer algal blooms make the southeast shore of the city unfit for boating.”

“Neuvilleeeeeette...”

“Furina,” said Neuvillette, narrowing his eyes. “Do you wish for me to be unhappy?”

The outburst from Furina that followed this question lasted more than an hour. His character, his power, and his desirability as a lover were all called into question. Furina shouted over and over that she hoped the date went horribly, that he had such an awful time and got so sad that the weather was ruined and they couldn’t see the moon at all, that their boat capsized, that his private parts got stung by jellyfish, and many other horrible things.

But Neuvillette got his way.

“I can’t believe you just did that to yourself,” Clorinde said in the hallway afterwards.

Neuvillette shook his head. “Whatever prank she pulls will be inconsequential, compared to what I have just gained.”

“She is going to take me with her to that meeting, rather than go alone,” Clorinde realized, horror dawning across her face.

“If you can bear the onslaught of middle-aged women showing you portraits of their most attractive grandchildren, you may have a good time. The food and entertainment will be of the highest quality. And I am sure you are well accustomed to ignoring the words of socialites by now.”

Wriothesley came up out of Meropide holding his most waterproof overnight bag, wearing a tight striped shirt and trousers that were cropped high above the knee. He wasn’t a man of many clothes, but he knew better than to go boating in office dress and a fur-trimmed coat.

Neuvillette was waiting for him at the docks in a sailor suit.

The frilled neck of the undershirt was high, the sleeves were long, and Neuvillette’s trousers were tucked into long boots, but the ensemble was form-fitting and had a bow tied under the floppy collar.

He had a little hat with a ribbon. He looked like the illustration from the cover of some bodice-ripper novel in which a young sailor was kidnapped and ravaged by pirates. Wriothesley was not emotionally prepared for this.

“Monsieur. I’m feeling a little underdressed,” said Wriothesley, his mouth dry.

“Underdressed?” Neuvillette looked Wriothesley over, doubling back to look a second time at his bared legs. “I would not agree.”

The boat was moored not far away. They waved to the Melusine who handed off the ropes at the Erinnyes docks and rowed out into the sea. The water parted under Wriothesley’s oars with suspiciously little resistance.

“Neuvillette… which one of us is moving this boat?” Wriothesley asked.

The boat stopped.

“I thought so. Why make me row, then?”

Neuvillette’s gaze flickered away.

“I did not wish to call extra attention to us for any prying eyes. You can stop now, if you like. We’re far enough out.”

“Wouldn’t they chalk that up to your Hydro Vision?” said Wriothesley.

“I suppose.” Neuvillette said. “This did not occur to me.”

“So…” Wriothesley waited for an explanation.

Neuvillette fidgeted before he finally spoke. “… I was watching you. I… did not want you to stop rowing… but I also did not want to tire you out when we have plans for the whole day.”

“And here I wanted to show off my skill in a boat,” Wriothesley tutted. “Where are we headed?”

Neuvillette gestured off towards the south. “I know a little cove on an island in the Morte Region where scallops can be dredged up. I thought we might roast them over a fire and have them with the baguettes I’ve packed. I have not seem humans on that beach, as it is secluded, so we should have privacy. Once the sun has set, I thought it would be nice to view the city from the water. The lights reflecting on the sea is… quite something.”

Wriothesley smiled and reached over to pat Neuvillette’s knee. “Monsieur, that sounds romantic,” he said.

Neuvillette’s cheeks, predictably, flushed slightly bluer. “I had hoped you might like it,” he said quietly.

“If you move the boat,” said Wriothesley, “Since you’re the one who knows where we’re going, anyway… I could sit in your lap.”

Even for the Hydro Dragon, it was somewhat difficult to steer a boat via currents along with Wriothesley blocking his sight and taking all of his attention. And he put in some effort to do this-- bracketing Neuvillette’s hips with his legs, sighing when Neuvillette removed his gloves to feel his exposed thighs, kneading and squeezing at the muscle.

“You sanded your claws down for me,” Wriothesley noted, going in for the kiss before Neuvillette could bluster or make excuses.

“We ssshould-- get to the island before the sssssun is too high,” Neuvillette panted, gently pushing Wriothesley to sit next to him instead of over him. “We will have time for thisssss-- later. We have all day.”

The boat zoomed across the water, pushed along by a series of strong currents that had not been there before. From how Neuvillette pressed his thighs together, it was apparent to Wriothesley that he was working very hard to focus.

The island wasn’t very big-- a crescent-shaped thing with a few boulders and trees. Wriothesley tied the boat to a large branch while Neuvillette spread a blanket across the sand. He left his hat, shoes, gloves, and stockings on the blanket with the picnic basket. Neuvillette unbuttoned the high neck of his shirt to free up his gills and the two of them went into the water.

Neuvillette’s hair and his sailor collar swirled around him in the current. His eyes scanned the sea bed until he caught sight of a cluster of shells a little further down. He gestured towards them, then zoomed off in the water almost too fast for Wriothesley to follow. The shells started to move as Neuvillette approached-- scallops swimming to try and get away from one of their natural predators. Neuvillette grabbed a few in his hands, inspected them, and let some of them go. Only three went into the net he was carrying.

“These ones are large, and by the color, the flesh will be sweeter,” he explained to Wriothesley. Wriothesley, still unable to speak in a way that would carry through the water, nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.

Neuvillette and Wriothesley kept hunting. They found more scallops, and a few fish that Neuvillette caught in his claws and immobilized by biting down with his teeth, right behind the heads. Neuvillette, truly in his element, moved effortlessly and gracefully through the water, as easily as walking, and Wriothesley would have had to overexert himself to keep up if Neuvillette did not pause once in awhile to wait for him. Whenever Wriothesley caught up, the corners of Neuvillette’s mouth would tilt up, and he would pull him in for a kiss. Despite being perfectly safe in the water, Wriothesley felt lightheaded when they finally came up to shore to prepare their lunch. They dug a pit in the sand, lit a fire, and put a metal grate over it so they could grill what they’d caught.

“If we’d brought a skillet, we could have fried these,” Wriothesley said.

“… I would prefer not to have them that way,” Neuvillette said carefully. He opened the shells of the scallops, cleaned them, and layed them over the grille still in the shells. He produced lemon juice and some kind of compound butter from the picnic basket to dress them in. In short order, a mouthwatering aroma started to waft over from the fire. The fish, he put onto skewers before drizzling with sauce he’d brought in a jar.

“You have everything all set up, huh,” Wriothesley said. “Here I thought you’d just eat it all raw.”

“I would, were I dining alone,” Neuvillette admitted, “But since I am not, I would prefer to eat the same meal as you. And I… prefer my grilled foods well-dressed. I do not care for my meals to be overly dry.”

“You make it sound like you are a picky eater, Monsieur,” Wriothesley teased.

Neuvillette paused in brushing the sauce over the dish. “… I simply have strong preferences.”

“You don’t drink Fonta either, right? There was an article about how you never took it when it was offered when you last visited the Kinetic Research Institute.”

Neuvillette turned and looked at him.

“Water,” he said slowly, “Is interesting enough without the process of… carbonation.”

Wriothesley couldn’t help it. He laughed.

“Did you bring us an interesting water today?” he asked, looking in the picnic basket. “Oho! Loch Urania limited reserve!”

“The bottle does not say limited reserve,” Neuvillette said. “It is ordinary Loch Urania draft. Perhaps, as a Fontainian, Loch Urania’s water will not seem especially novel to you. But the frothing of the lake leads to a light, airy texture, which I thought would cut through the heavier flavors of this meal.”

“I’m dating the world’s only water sommelier,” Wriothesley said.

“… I did consider bringing wine,” said Neuvillette, “But I thought it might be better not to have either of us swim or pilot a boat while drunk. If you would like to drink… we could always return to my apartments after our voyage. Or to my den.”

“You keep wine in your den?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Neuvillette said, looking over his shoulder to give him another slight smile.

“I certainly do,” Wriothesley said. “Though I’m more of a strong spirits man.”

“… Perhaps we should drink seriously some day. I do… not partake, often, but that is due to my busy schedule than a dislike of alcohol.”

“Let me guess,” Wriothesley said, “Schneznayan firewater?”

Neuvillette blinked. “How did you know? I camped in a distillery when I was there, during the Cataclysm. It was closed down due to the monsters in the area, but some of the soldiers explained the process to me very thoroughly. I found it quite interesting… you are saying this because the word ‘water’ is in the name, aren’t you.”

Wriothesley blew him a kiss. “Guilty as charged, Monsieur.”

“You seem determined at all times to mock me,” Neuvillette said. “Come over and bring the plates. I believe the scallops are ready.”

They had the scallops, the fish, a sliced baguette, and some Bulle Fruits, which Neuvillette carefully peeled with a fruit knife shaped like a fish.

“That’s cute,” Wriothesley hummed, looking over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Neuvillette chuckled. “It was a gift from Sigewinne, some years back.”

“… Some years back,” Wriothesley repeated. “I keep forgetting how old she is. Weird, right? She was at Meropide when I got there and she looked the same as she does now. She only came up to my ribs then. She’s practically at my hip now.”

“You did not see her too often back then?” Neuvillette said carefully.

Wriothesley turned away from him, towards the water.

“… I got into a lot of fights,” he said.

The Fortress of Meropide had been a lot more brutal of a place to live when Wriothesley first got there. Everything ran on Credit Coupons even now, but back then, it has been much more strictly so. There was no daily gratuity meals, no free medical care, and it was against the rules to hand credit coupons over to another prisoner for nothing. Everything had to be transactional. A system set up to keep the prisoners fighting each other, too weak and hungry to try and escape. Even guards who tried to be more lenient to help sick or injured prisoners tended to disappear.

It was better there now. But Wriothesley had been at the helm of that series of changes after going through hell to see everything wrong with the place.

“Don’t apologize,” he told Neuvillette, who had opened his mouth to do just that. “How could you have known? Meropide is outside of your authority. You only had my predecessor’s word to go on. The anonymous staff reports are one of my newer rules. It makes work for both of us, I guess, but…”

“… But it is one of the many improvements you have made, and therefore one of the things that earned you your title,” Neuvillette said. He laid a hand over Wriothesley’s on the blanket and squeezed it. “You have worked hard to make the Fortress a better place. Your reports and the exit interviews of many inmates have shown as much.”

“… Thanks,” said Wriothesley. “Hey. Is this the most depressing conversation you’ve had on a date?”

Neuvillette frowned at the obvious shift in tone, but he did not attempt to reroute the conversation back to its original subject, which was a relief.

“I have been broken up with while out at dinner,” Neuvillette said. “And I did date shortly after the Cataclysm. And during.”

“During? Weren’t you busy?” Wriothesley said, raising his eyebrows.

“A Khaenri’ahn man bought me dinner in attempt to woo me, as one of the Sovereigns, to take pity on his people, even while the escaped Rifthounds ran amok across the Belleau Region. To make matters worse, that thing had already been released in Monstadt.”

“That thing? Do you mean Durin?” Wriothesley asked. He remembered how Neuvillette had dismissed the Abyssal dragon the last time they discussed it.

Neuvillette nodded. “The alchemist Gold built that thing on the foundation of King Nibelung’s bones,” he said in a low hiss. “Do you know how hard one must try to blaspheme against the Sovereigns when they have not held Tevyat for thousands of years? That is one of the few ways it could have even been done.”

“Sounds like you were pissed off,” Wriothesley said.

Neuvillette rarely expressed outright anger. Annoyance, exasperation, disappointment, yes, but not anger. It was strange to see.

He was pushing at the sand with his claws. “I had no issue with Khaenri’ah before the Cataclysm. I had no allegiance to the Seven, and was not yet the Chief Justice, so I largely kept to myself and was concerned mostly with the wildlife in Fontaine’s waters. I cannot begin to describe what happened to the life in our ocean when those creatures and their black sludge began to pour out of the sky.”

“I’ve heard… it used to be different,” Wriothesley said, trying to remember what had been mentioned in his history books.

“We used to have whales, Wriothesley. Here in the inland sea. And dolphins. And… a great many other things, which are gone now. Creatures the size of the monsters you call Local Legends used to be much more common. Abyssal toxin infects larger creatures too drastically, as they eat the smaller creatures with lesser infections, and the poison builds up in their bodies quickly as a result. Thankfully, the toxin is all but entirely gone from Fontaine now, and we can once again eat fish safely… but the large sea creatures are gone, too.”

“Except for you.” Wriothesley said. He shifted to lean against him.

“Yes, I suppose. Except for me. Khaenri’ah were judged and faced their consequences. I hold no true ill will with them now. But it still feels…” he paused, unsure how to describe how he felt. “… I still do not like how I feel when I remember some of these things.”

“And yet… Sigewinne told me once that the Melusines came out of the Cataclysm,” Wriothesley said.

“I am surprised she even said that much,” said Neuvillette, “Yes. They were born afterwards. The rest… I do not know if it is mine to tell. But they are blameless creatures who love humanity and wish to live alongside them.”

It seemed like Neuvillete knew a lot of secrets that were not his to tell. Perhaps it came with being so old.

“What about you?”

Neuvillette turned towards him. “Am I a blameless creature? Many people would argue I am not. Do I love humanity and wish to live alongside them? I… hold the people of Fontaine dearly. I do not have the same wish to be a part of them, the way the Melusines do. Nor do I always understand them. But I take my responsibility to protect them through my work seriously, and I hold a fondness for them all the same.”

He laid a hand on Wriothesley’s cheek. “Some more than others, these days, though I am meant to be impartial as a judge…”

Wriothesley laughed softly. “Sounds like I’d better not break any more laws, so we won’t have to worry about the implications of that.”

“I would appreciate it,” Neuvillette murmured.

Wriothesley closed his eyes and waited for the kiss he knew was coming. Neuvillette gave it to him, his lips moving slow over his. There was a softness to it, a thoughtfulness, rather than the urgency they usually had when their mouths came together for this long.

“Well,” Wriothesley said, when Neuvillette pulled away, “I hold a fondness for you, too.”

“I am glad,” said Neuvillette.

They sat quietly awhile, in each other’s arms, admiring the view.

“I can’t remember the last time I just sat out in the sun,” Wriothesley said.

Neuvillette nodded against his hair. “Neither can I.”

“It kind of makes me want to take a nap? Seems like a waste, though. Who knows when we’ll be able to spend this much time together uninterrupted.” Nevertheless, he yawned.

“You would burn up in the sun as well,” Neuvillette said. “But Sigewinne has hinted more sunlight in moderate amounts would be good to your health.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley fell back onto the blanket, stretching out. “Was this excursion her idea, then?”

“No, it was mine. It is… something I had wanted to try.” He laid down next to him.

Wriothesley reached over and played with the ties on his collar. “Oh, Monsieur. You truly are a romantic. Imagine if the press ever discovered this.”

“I believe they suspect it already, now that they have noticed we are involved.” Neuvillette looked down at Wriothesley’s fingers as he tugged at his ribbon. “I thought you were going to take a nap?”

“I seem to be distracted by this ensemble you have on,” Wriothesley said. “There are other things I can do to take in the sunlight other than napping.”

He tugged him down to him by his collar and kissed him again, pressing a smile into his face. “If, say, I took off some of my clothes, I would get more sunlight, too, wouldn’t I?”

“I suppose you would,” Neuvillette murmured. He slid his hands into Wriothesley’s shirt and began untucking it from his shorts. “Leaving your legs out in these trousers is not nearly enough…”

“You’re the one covered head to toe,” said Wriothesley, fiddling with the long sleeves of Neuvillette’s shirt.

“Ah. Well. I have trouble keeping my scales out of view, at times, and they tend to alarm people. A visiting diplomat from Sumeru even mistook them for Eleazar, once, when I was careless with my gloves during a meal.”

“And here I just thought you were painfully formal,” said Wriothesley. “Oh– your claws are dangerous even dulled– “

He shivered as Neuvillette scratched faint lines into his skin.

Neuvillette said. “I thought perhaps… I may not need them, when we retire tonight. Perhaps I could take you back to my den...”

Wriothesley licked his lips. It had only been a week since he’d been acquainted with Neuvillette’s den and his other form. It had taken three days for Wriothesley to be walking all the way normally again, so the encounter was fresh in his mind. “You want to pull me underwater as a dragon and take me like that again?”

Neuvillette’s cheeks flushed blue. “Well… you seemed to enjoy it, and I… liked holding you so close…”

“And I must be so tight when you are that big.” Wriothesley added. He raised his arms so Neuvillette could pull his shirt over his head.

Under him, Neuvillette shifted, squeezing his thighs together. “Yessss… that too.”

Wriothesley leaned down and kissed across his jaw, earning another hiss. “If you’re going to drag me under later, we had better do something about your eggs now, then. Just as a precaution. We can’t use the pull-out method every time.”

“Do not call it that,” Neuvillete said weakly.

“We pulled out of the water.”

“You are terrible--”

Wriothesley dragged his tongue over Neuvillette’s mouth and cut him off. Their lips slotted together easily, familiar with each other. The sun was warm on Wriothesley’s back, and Neuvillette’s hands were pleasantly cool. His fingers scraped over the contours of Wriothesley’s muscles, outlined his many scars. When Wriothesley started to grind against Neuvillette, to fill out his shorts, Neuvillette fiddled with the buttons to loosen them and slid his hands inside. Hard clawtips held onto Wriothesley’s ass, not quite pricking him, but the sensation had goosebumps raising up on the backs of Wriothesley’s arms.

Wriothesley reached between them to play with the buttons holding Neuvillette’s trousers closed. He pushed his hands past his waistband to feel whether his cocks were starting to come out. He found an inch or two of Neuvillette’s hemipenes with his fingers and stroked, gratified to feel them slide out just a little further.

Neuvillette moaned, his pale lashes fluttering. His gills flared as he breathed in sharply.

“You are so cute,” Wriothesley said. “Actually… can you keep the outfit on? I can go get your hat.”

“Thisssss is another one of your things, isn’t it,” Neuvillette mumbled.

“Come on, Monsieur, sailor costume fetish is a downright ordinary interest, and I would argue a patriotic one for a Fontainian.”

He pet Neuvillette’s lengths with his thumbs, admiring the way Neuvillette shuddered in response.

“You know I would entertain any of your ‘things’. Don’t you?”

Neuvillette shrugged. “You… already entertain… many things alien to you, for my pleasure.”

“That’s regular sex for you, though?” Wriothesley pointed out. “It’s okay if you don’t have anything in particular you want to try. But I’m open to suggestions.”

“You also accommodate my wish to have you in the water… and have awakened in me this penchant for using both of my hemipenes at once, which is a fairly dangerous habit with our size difference… ”

“And the breeding kink,” Wriothesley said helpfully.

Neuvillette narrowed his eyes. “I told you that is a – seasonal affliction.”

“Hmm. Or I’m just made to take your eggs…”

Neuvillette clutched at Wriothesley tighter, whining. Another inch of him slid out against Wriothesley’s hands.

“Ssssssit up,” he said, “I want to disrobe.”

Wriothesley stood so both of them could wiggle out of their pants. “Is your collar detachable?” he said hopefully.

“… I will leave the shirt on,” Neuvillette said.

He glanced to the edge of the water, where the surf washed over the sand. “In return… perhaps you could entertain another ‘little thing’… I would like to feel the surf.”

“It’s either water or animal instincts with you, unless it’s both,” Wriothesley teased.

Neuvillette drew his knees up to his chest, frowning. Sitting on the picnic blanket in just his hat and collared shirt, curled up like that, his modesty barely hidden behind his legs, he was just too cute.

Wriothesley picked him up, to a surprised hiss, hooking his hands under his knees and under his back. “As my Iudex demands~”

He set him down on the wet sand. He reached for Wriothesley, who obliged him and sat over him again. The first wave that washed over them elicited a delighted little growl from Neuvillette, who dug his claws into the sand, kneading at it. From how his legs shifted, it seemed he was doing the same with this feet.

“You definitely aren’t fingering me now,” Wriothesley laughed. “It was bad enough last time getting the sand out of my hair.”

Neuvillette stopped kneading. “… Oh. I… did not think so far ahead.”

Wriothesley sat back, looking him over. His flushed face. His cocks sliding out between pale, scale-speckled legs. His damp hair clinging to his skin. The tail growing out behind Neuvillette and lashing back and forth nervously.

Wriothesley knew what he wanted. He tasted sea spray when he licked his lips before he spoke.

“I’ll just have to be the one taking you this time, then,” he said, carefully.

Neuvillette’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open. So pretty. He looked down at Wriothesley’s cock, then back up at his face.

He swallowed, making his gills flare out.

“You’ll jusssst have to,” he agreed. “No other… sssssolution.”

They crashed together and rearranged themselves between hungry kisses. Neuvillete ended up in Wriothesley’s lap with his back to the water. He wound his tail wound around Wriothesley’s hips.

“Oh.” Wriothesley looked back towards the picnic basket. “Is there oil in—”

“I… make lubricant,” Neuvillette offered. He leaned back, presenting the cocks that had slid most of the way out, dripping and twitching in the breeze. They looked tempting almost enough like this to forget the whole rest of this venture. Neuvillette had even brought out his testes without Wriothesley asking first.

(He wondered how big they were in Neuvillette’s dragon form, and decided he would definitely find that out tonight.)

“How efficient, Monsieur… or do you just not want to get up?”

“Could it not be both– ”

Neuvillette gasped when Wriothesley took him in hand. He stroked him gently, smearing wet onto the fingers of his right hand until he had a decent coating. He spent and especially long time collecting it off his balls. When it seemed slick enough, Wriothesley brought his hand around behind. Neuvillette lifted his tail higher to give him room, and Wriothesley ran his fingers down the cleft of his ass.

Neuvillette whined, his hips hitching down against his hand of their own accord. Wriothesley began to play with the puckered skin around his entrance, getting it wet and aiming to tease him, just a little.

“Precious, Monsieur. But I am always patient for you, aren’t I? … Sort of?”

Neuvillette chuckled. “Ssssort of.”

Wriothesley slid the tip of his finger inside. “You said it had been a long time,” he said casually, circling around just past the rim of his hole, “How long, exactly?”

Neuvillette’s breath hitched. He was too tight for much more than this. Wriothesley needed to get him to relax.

“Y-you… did thissss to me… exactly thirty days ago,” he reminded him.

“No, I know,” Wriothesley said, “Before that?”

“Let… let me think…” Neuvillette shivered. “The year was… ssssso… that meansss…”

He muttered to himself a little longer. “Ah– it was... three hundred… ssssixteen yearsss ago.”

“You haven’t been fucked since the Soldat-Misere Trials?” Wriothesley said, referring to a famous string of court cases that had inspired no less than three award-winning operas.

“… Thossse trialsss were two yearsss later… no relation,” Neuvillette corrected.

The distraction was helping him calm down. Wriothesley eased his finger in to the knuckle. “Lucky man, whoever he was.”

Neuvillette squeezed Wriothesley’s waist with his tail. “A… prominent baritone of the time… Does it not trouble you? Thinking of my… past lovers?”

Wriothesley shrugged. “Yes, and no, I guess.”

Knowing the specifics did rub him the wrong way, a little. It would also be sad to think of someone like Neuvillette not having anyone for the five hundred years he had been Chief Justice, or however long he had lived before that.

“We’ve been together a month, usually people go through the ‘talking about their exes’ stage a lot earlier on. But maybe not right this minute~”

He worked his finger in further. Slowly, Neuvillette was opening up to him. Wriothesley pet his thigh with his free hand, soothing him.

“… More…” Neuvillette breathed. “I can… take more…”

Wriothesley smirked. “I don’t know if my other fingers are still wet enough, Monsieur. One moment.”

He brought his hand back to the front, taking the excuse to stroke up and down his cocks, to massage the lubricant off of his balls. Neuvillette shivering and hissing before him was always irresistible. Like this, knowing that soon, Wriothesley would be inside… he wasn’t sure how he was waiting so politely.

Two fingers were rocked into Neuvillette, and Wriothesley opted to kiss him until his lips were bitten blue rather than exchanging banter. He waited until he could work a third finger in before he sought out Neuvillette’s prostate.

The high, keening moan Wriothesley earned when he thrummed three fingers up against that firm place inside Neuvillette was worth the waiting. Neuvillette ground his hips back onto Wriothesley’s hand, his cocks dripping puddles onto Wriothesley’s lap, his delicate testes gliding across his thighs. His hat kept sliding off his head, and his shirt was stuck to him in places from the waves that were washing over them more frequently as the tide climbed higher.

“Wriothhhhesssley– I don’t know how much more I can take–!”

Wriothesley was not doing much better. Other than the occasional accidental brushes against Neuvillette’s hemipenes, his own erection was untouched, and Neuvillette was so soft inside.

He dragged his fingers out, spreading them to test how far open Neuvillette could stretch.

“All right,” Wriothesley groaned. “Do you want to do what I usually do and stay in my lap?”

Neuvillette shook his head. His hat started to slip again. Wriothesley let it fall this time and tossed it back towards their blanket.

“Not feeling up to riding?” Wroithesley teased. He pulled his fingers out of him.

Neuvillette shook his head again. “Perhapssss…”

He climbed off of Wriothesley’s lap and shifted his weight onto his hands. It seemed at first that he would turn over and lay back, but then… Neuvillette brushed his hair off to one side and stayed where he was, even digging his fingers into the sand to stabilize himself. He removed his tail from around Wriothesley’s waist and curled it up and away, leaving his ass exposed. Neuvillette’s dicks hung heavy below him, bouncing slightly as he shifted and got comfortable.

Wriothesley sucked in a breath, suddenly aware of how painfully hard he was.

When Wriothesley was quiet too long, Neuvillette wavered. “Is this… too strange? I was under the impression this position was quite common.”

“No, it is,” Wroithesley said quickly. (Part of him cheered that Neuvillette had few enough exes that he felt the need to clarify whether doggy-style was too kinky.)

“It’s just not every day a man presents himself to me. Even when I’m the one topping.”

Neuvillette looked over his shoulder, his eyes intense as ever. “I also find it gratifying when you do such things for me.”

He crawled over to kneel behind him, feeling almost reverent in the action. He ran his hands over the slight curve of his waist, pushed them up under his shirt to stroke over his ribs, then brought them back down to take hold of his ass and spread him open. Neuvillette whined, raised his tail higher to allow better access. Wriothesley lifted and squeezed, rubbing his glutes in circles, admiring him and the way his asshole stretched while he played with him.

“Let me just get a little more prepared on my end,” Wriothesley said, before sliding his cleaner hand around to grip Neuvillette’s cocks gently. Neuvillette’s shoulders jumped, sending his sailor collar flapping up. He shifted into his hand, following Wriothesley’s motions as he slowly pulled at him.

“I just need enough to give myself a good coating,” he soothed. Soon enough, he pulled his hand away to a soft whimper of protest and took himself in hand, first to heavily coat his length in Neuvillette’s lubricant, then to line himself up and rest his tip against Neuvillette’s shiny wet entrance.

Then, smiling wickedly to himself since Neuvillette’s back was turned, Wriothesley waited.

“Wriothhhesssley?” Neuvillette shifted, wiggling his hips but not quite bringing them back to take him on his own.

“Hmm?”

“I am ready…”

“Oh, good.”

Wriothesley kept waiting.

“Wriothesley, would you pleassssse–”

Neuvillette’s words were choked back by a low moan as Wriothesley finally pushed forwards.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Wriothesley gasped. “Feels good--”

Neuvillette shuddered, clenching down just a little as he did so. The squeeze around Wriothesley, the warm, soft pressure of Neuvillette constricting him, the slide against his well-slicked walls, was all too delicious. Wriothesley moaned as he pressed forwards, his member throbbing in a way he was sure Neuvillette could feel.

“You’re perfect,” he said, “Neuvillette, this is perfect. You feeling all right?”

Neuvillette nodded hurriedly. “I… am all right,” he managed. “It’s… it’ssss big…”

Wriothesley stopped so he could laugh. “Coming from you? I know I’m decently sized, but you’re on another level.”

“I– I do not have the ability to take myself inside, so this is a poor comparison– ”

He was clawing at the sand, his tail twitching. Doing everything he could do to stay still.

“Pleasssse continue– I am very comfortable.” And needy, it seemed. As always.

“All right, all right.”

Wriothesley leaned forwards until he could kiss the back of Neuvillette’s neck where it met his collar. “Here I come.”

He pushed his hips forward the rest of the way, going easy, but not at the glacial pace he’d been taking. When his hips met Neuvillette’s backside, though, it was Neuvillette who sighed in relief. He sunk onto his elbows, leaning his ass back further against him. The shirt slipped forwards, until his back was exposed almost up to his shoulders. The scales were clustered close down his spine in a long, glimmering line that went down to the base of his tail.

It took all Wriothesley’s collective skill not to pull back and slam into him as hard as he could.

“Beautiful,” Wriothesley breathed. “Tell me-- tell me when I can move.”

Cool scales slid against his back as Neuvillette wound his tail around him again, holding him tight about the waist but not holding him fast against him.

Wriothesley was straining where he knelt, his breath coming out in sharp huffs. He had to stay still. Had to make this good for Neuvillette who had not been been fucked in so long this might as well be his first time.

“… Does the constriction do something for you? You twisted all around me last time too.”

“Y-yes– ” Neuvillette nodded quickly. His blush was reaching his ears. “Yes, it feelsssss– pleassssant. The twining. The pressure.”

“And another dragon would do it back?” Wriothesley guessed.

“… I imagine ssssso,” said Neuvillette.

Wriothesley leaned further forwards, slowly so he wouldn’t shift inside him too much, until he was draped over Neuvillette’s back. He brought both arms around Neuvillette’s waist and drew him up close to him, holding him tight as he dared.

“How’s this?” he asked.

Neuvillette shifted back and forth a little, testing his hold, and also rubbing himself against Wriothesley hilted inside him in a way that made both of them shudder.

“It’sss nice…” He wiggled again. “Pleassse move.”

Wriothesley meant to start slow. He did manage to keep his first few thrusts shallow, at least. But Neuvillette was pulling at him with his tail to try and urge him on faster, and he was pushing his hips up higher, and he was moaning like Wriothesley was taking him much harder.

Who was he to deny an obvious request? Wriothesley went faster, drew his hips back further with every thrust. Neuvillette responded to this eagerly, canting his hips back for him, his tail starting to shift in waves the way it had when he’d had Wriothesley in his grasp the last time. Below him, his cocks were drooling lubricant and precome, enough that drops of it flew back and hit Wriothesley’s thighs as he started to take him harder.

Wriothesley shifted his hold, experimenting with the angle. He couldn’t tell how fast Neuvillette would last like this, sensitive as he always was, shuddering and squeezing and clinging to him like he was right now.

It had been awhile since he took the lead, but he had always prided himself in muscle memory. It didn’t take him long to find the angle that made Neuvillette throw his head back and shout.

“Wriothhhesssley– Wriothhhhessssley, yessss– harder!”

Neuvillette was already a mess, rolling his hips back, hands buried in the sand for leverage. But Wriothesley had better ideas. He reached down for Neuvillette’s arms, pulling them up, until he could hug them close to his body, trapping him back against his chest. He held him fast, trying for more constriction. It seemed like the effort was worth it. Neuvillette cried out, pushing back onto Wriothesley’s cock with his strange, serpentine grace, and Wriothesley bit down on the back of his collar and bucked into him harder.

Once particularly harsh thrust hit something firm, deep inside Neuvillette. The dragon howled, suddenly clamping down much harder on him, with such strength that Wriothesley thought Neuvillette was about to finish.

“There,” Neuvillette begged, “Pleasssse, Wriothhhessley, there– ”

Wriothesley snapped his hips forward at this command, punching another wail out of Neuvillette.

“Neuv– Neuvillette, what is– ”

“I told you– it’ssss my ovary–”

Right. He had mentioned that it was tender.

Wriothesley spat Neuvillette’s collar out and chuckled, his voice rough. He wasn’t going to last much longer, but he had a feeling Neuvillette wouldn’t either.

“Looks like I’ll be– hhaaah – fucking the eggs out of you a different way– than usual,” he said, “Is that– right?”

He lurched forward, an especially punishing thrust accompanied by another helpless cry.

“Am I the one breeding you today?” he growled.

Neuvillette’s echoing roar was answer enough. He convulsed and bucked up against Wriothesley, shaking. His inner walls pulsing hard around Wriothesley, but Neuvillette came harder, torrents of white spattering over the sand underneath him while he writhed back for more.

Wriothesley hissed in a breath through his teeth. He hammered himself in, harder, straining, gritting his teeth. He had to hold on just a bit longer. If he kept him going, kept fucking into that spot inside, Neuvillette would come again.

Neuvillette’s rhinophores were glowing, his breaths hissing, and he was squeezing Wriothesley tighter and tigher inside, shoving back, desperate, voice more hiss than words–

“– Wriothesley yes Wriothesley please harder Wriothesley fill me please yes Wriothesley–”

And when Wriothesley nipped at Neuvillette’s ear and said,

“You first,”

Neuvillette nodded and erupted into the sand. Eggs poured out of him, rolling across the ground. As Wriothesley fucked him through it as hard as he could he could feel the ovary deflating as its clutch was emptied.

The quivering, desperate hold on Wriothesley inside, combined with the sight of Neuvillette so debauched, so undone, was enough to finally push Wriothesley over to come with him. His blunt nails dug into Neuvillette’s arms while he pushed up into that perfect heat, losing all rhythm. Wriothesley spilled deep into Neuvillette, shaking, letting out a long moan into his back.

He stayed hilted in him a long moment, then pulled out and toppled to the side. He whined at the sight of the trickle of cum that spilled of Neuvillette before he fell down to join him.

Conveniently, the next wave that crested high enough up the sand to hit them washed the puddle of Neuvillette’s cum away, and sent the eggs rolling higher up the hill so they wouldn’t get caught in the surf.

“Thissss time…” Neuvillette groaned, “This time… let’sss really take a nap. I will catch usss dinner before the sun goes down.”

Wearily, Wriothesley stood, and stumbled with Neuvillette up towards their picnic set. Neuvillette shrugged his shirt off and left it in the pile of the rest of their clothes, uncorked a bottled water and controlled its contents to clean both of them off. He discarded the filthy remains into the ocean and toweled them both dry.

“Is that pollution,” Wriothesley said weakly. “And why am I the one tired.”

When Neuvillette yawned, his fangs flashed in the midday sun. “Other aquatic animals mate on the beach or in the water all the time. Everything we washed away is natural.”

They curled into each other and drifted off. When Wriothesley woke back up, his skin felt oddly tight, and it hurt to touch.

“Sigewinne said my sunscreen was waterproof,” he complained.

Neuvillette opened one eye lazily. “Sunscreen?” he asked.

Wriothesley blinked. Of course. A reptile wouldn’t burn in the sun.

“… I am realizing that neither of us have tan lines for very different reasons.”

“Hmm.”

Neuvillette was content to lay where he was and watch Wriothesley apply a second layer of sunscreen.

“My Head Nurse talked about me getting enough sun, but not too much?”

Neuvillette shrugged. “She scolded me for other things, such as making sure you do not get dehydrated, and washing anyplace I puncture your skin, and making sure your diet is appropriately varied when you visit.”

“Sounds like you need a second biology textbook,” Wriothesley quipped.

Neuvillette smiled and pulled himself up into a sitting position. “Sigewinne implied that she would prepare something for me soon. But you have lived well before we got together.”

He curled his legs up and started to stand. He lost his balance almost immediately, his knees shaking, tumbling forwards and barely catching himself from falling.

“… Oh. I forgot about this.” He frowned. “Is this what it feels like after I take you?”

Wriothesley laughed. “No, Monsieur. You seem not to be able to stand at all. Do you need help?”

“No, no. Do not trouble yourself. I promised to provide you with another meal, and I can swim without using the parts that are sore.”

He dove into the water. Wriothesley put his clothes back on once his sunscreen was dry and started their cooking fire again.

Neuvillette leapt out of the water, in full dragon form, holding a very large Armored Crab in his jaws. He laid it gently in the sand by the fire before shrinking down to his humanoid shape, shaking the water off his body with a wave of his hand.

And then he stumbled back to the blanket and sat heavily, before flopping onto his back.

“You shouldn’t strain yourself like that after rough sex,” Wriothesley said, grinning cheekily.

“I do not wish to hear that from you,” Neuvillette sighed. “Would you help me dress?”

He helped Neuvillette get back into his clothes, then watched as Neuvillette carved the meat out of the cauldron-sized crabshell.

“I don’t think those leftovers will keep,” Wriothesley said dryly. There was a lot of meat. “Isn’t the Armored Crab a protected species?”

Neuvillette blinked. “I am its natural predator,” he said. “There are also bylaws in place to allow for the hunting of Fontemer Aberrants in times it is necessary for survival, or when there is an overpopulation.”

“Is it legal for me to eat it?” Wriothesley pointed out.

“Yes. I am the one who hunted it. Scavenging from deceased animals is not illegal unless it brings up concerns of public health.”

Coming from anyone else, it might have sounded like Neuvillette was exploiting loopholes. But he said it so simply.

“These laws are in place to preserve the ecosystem, not to leave people hungry. Do not worry.”

He piled all of the meat back into the shell and cooked it over the fire as if it were a stewpot, throwing in some ingredients from the picnic basket. They had to eat the resulting soup out of the shell, but Wriothesley hardly minded having an excuse to sit close while they watched the sun go down. After the meal, they cleared up everything they’d brought with them and Wriothesley helped Neuvillette back into the boat.

The sky was clear, and the stars shone bright above them, making it easy for Neuvillette to push the boat to their destination safely. Wriothesley could see lights dancing on the water far before he could see the outline of the Court of Fontaine’s capitol. At first, it was just a shining collection of lights in the distance, which he would have mistaken a very close collection of stars, if the lights were not shining steadily while the stars overhead twinkled. Then, as the boat drew closer, Wriothesley could see the lights that marked the top of the Palais Mermonia, the aircraft landing pads, and the steel arches that crossed over the top of the city. The other smudges of light separated out as the rowboat glided forwards, and they formed the shape of the capitol, shining far away like a beacon.

“Oh,” Wriothesley said softly.

Neuvillette took his hand. “Yes. I quite agree.”

The boat stilled and they leaned against each other, admiring the view.

“When I answered the summons to come and take over as the Chief Justice, right after the Calamity,” said Neuvillette, “I approached at night, and this was what I saw. I was enchanted.”

Wriothesley nodded. “Can I ask… why you took the job?”

“I received a letter from Focalors. It said to come and take the best seat in the house. This was… intriguing. I felt the need to come and understand Fontaine’s humanity as well as I did the other creatures who live here.”

Wriothesley had a feeling that wasn’t the whole story, but he didn’t feel he had good reason to press for more information.

“I don’t think even humans understand humanity,” he chuckled.

Neuvillette smiled, barely visible in the starlight and the lights from the city shining far away.

“Perhaps they do not,” he said, “And perhaps I never will. My attempts to understand them have been… compelling. Rewarding, at times. I have made the occasional connection, and I have come to be the guardian of the Melusines. I hold the people of Fontaine preciously. And in these efforts… it has become closer to the concept of home, rather than simply territory.”

Wriothesley snuggled into his side and gave his hand a squeeze. “Home is where the heart is, they say. For humans, the people in and around it can be just as important as the space itself.”

Neuvillette hummed, thoughtful. “I suppose the same has become true for me as well. The Melusines… even Lady Furina… and…”

He trailed off, turning to look more pointedly at the city, as if he were avoiding looking directly at Wriothesley.

And you.

The words hung unspoken in the air between them.

Wriothesley craned his neck up to plant a kiss on Neuvillette’s cheek.

“You are a romantic,” he cooed.

He felt Neuvillette’s face grow warmer against his mouth.

“Happy one-month,” Wriothesley said.

“… Yes,” Neuvillette said, “It is.”

Hundreds of miles away, it was mid-morning. A white-and-green speck hovered at the edge of Old Monstadt, held aloft in the air by a wind current that seemed to burst right out of the ground with no clear source.

Venti scanned the sky for signs of life. He saw a falcon dive to catch a fish in the pond in the northeastern part of the valley.

While Dvalin had been sighted ‘roughly once a week’ in the area around his old den, the reports Venti had collected from the Knights of Favonius outriders and the Adventurer’s Guild did not point to any particular day of the week. When Aether was regularly in or around Monstadt, apparently, it had been ‘most Mondays.’

Maybe Dvalin wasn’t even here. Maybe he wouldn’t meet Venti even if he could see him. Maybe Venti really had ruined things for good, and Dvalin was only seen circling around the tower because he was waiting for Aether.

(Where was Aether now? Venti couldn’t remember. He had been in town for Windblume. He would probably come back again for Weinlesefest again in the fall.)

Perhaps the former East Wind could be spotted if Venti headed in closer to the tower in the center of the valley. Harsh winds swirled around it even now, shielding it from monsters or plucky adventurers who were not very skilled with a wind glider.

He hopped down from his updraft, pushing up another one further away. Venti floated down, gently as a dandelion puff, until he reached the new air current. He let his cape flair out to rise up in the air once again–

And was deafened by the wind roaring in his ears from somewhere to his left. Somehow, he was not blown out of his upcurrent like a leaf in a storm.

The heavy sound of windbeats was fast approaching. Venti shot up in the air to land on a cracked pillar, looking frantically towards the east where the sound had come from.

The sky above him glimmered, until it was clear that part of the bright blue was not the sky, but a dragon who matched it in color, diving down like that hawk had to catch his lunch.

Dvalin flared out all four of his wings at the last possible moment, stopping abruptly before he crashed to the ground. He sat back on his haunches and was at eye level with Venti.

As tight as Venti’s chest was, wracked with nervousness, his heart soared. Without even thinking, he launched himself off the pillar to land on Dvalin’s head, his laugh ringing out like cathedral bells, hugging the top of the dragon’s hard-scaled beak with both arms and both legs.

Dvalin made a soft, warbling noise, like the coo of a dove. He held his head very still so Venti would not slide off when he spoke.

“Barbatos. You return.”

“You return!” Venti giggled, rubbing his cheek into the space between Dvalin’s horns.

“I have been waiting for you.”

The dragon’s head came to rest on the edge of the pillar. His claws rested politely on either side of his face. Venti heard the vegetation on the ground below rustle as Dvalin waggled his tail.

… Dvalin had always been so playful, before the Cataclysm. Even when they went to overthrow Decarabian. So full of joy for everything he could fly to. The way he’d been cursed while Venti was sleeping, suffering alone with no one to help him, had taken that joy from him, Venti thought.

“I’m sorry,” Venti whispered. “I didn’t know. I thought you were dead. So the only thing I could do was sleep. I’m so, so sorry– ”

Dvalin picked Venti up in one claw and set him down on the pillar to look him in the eye again.

“This is not like you.”

Venti sniffled. “No, I guess it’s not.”

“Your efforts also saved me. I would not be here without you and that traveler from beyond the stars.”

Dvalin paused.

“And Paimon.”

“And Paimon,” Venti echoed. “I missed you. I thought– you must be angry with me– ”

He hiccuped. Oh, no, he was going to cry. This was not how this was supposed to go. Venti wanted a drink. If he flew to Mond, the Angel’s Share would be opening soon, and maybe he could fit a few more Mora on his tab–

Dvalin shuffled his wings to get comfortable while he curled closer. His beak closed around Venti’s hair and he began to groom him. Old, old muscle memory caught up to Venti, and he took off his hat and stood on his tiptoes for Dvalin to reach.

“I was very angry,” Dvalin admitted.

“… But you’re not now?” Why else would Dvalin be pulling his hair back into shape?

Dvalin’s head swiveled until it was almost sideways.

“… I now understand better what happened.”

“That’s not a no,” Venti whined.

“No. It is not. But I was very sick then. I am still weak, but I am not sick anymore.”

“So you’re… less angry?”

“Yes. Much less.”

Dvalin froze again. He stopped grooming Venti’s hair and pressed the tip of his beak to Venti’s chest. “Your divine Authority is missing. I cannot feel it anymore.”

Venti smiled brightly. Dvalin wasn’t mad. Well, Dvalin wasn’t too mad. He had to show him he was okay.

“A witch took my Gnosis. That’s been happening a lot. It’s okay, though! Aether killed her!”

Dvalin clucked once and went back to biting Venti’s hair. “A Gnosis thief?”

“Yes! They took Morax’s too!”

Venti pouted, remembering something. “Oh! And get this! Morax’s new mate is on the same side as that witch. And! And! He’s the worst.”

“Morax is mated?”

“Uh-huh! That’s what I said! I didn’t believe it either but I saw him wearing one of his scales but I thought oh, maybe he stole one from one of his shed skins. So I asked him! And he said he didn’t steal it! And I could sense that the elemental energy on the scale was still alive– ”

He pulled his necklace, the one with his own scale from Dvalin, out of his shirt. “Like mine is since it’s technically part of me and not like. I don’t know. Hair clippings.”

Dvalin thought about this new information for a long time.

“Is Morax happy?” He finally asked.

“That’s the worst part! He’s really happy! It’s weird!”

“Little Morax, happy. How strange.”

He tapped Venti in the middle of the stomach with a claw. Venti giggled, ticklish, taking a step back as the weight of Dvalin’s push nearly knocked him off balance.

“I would like to see this for myself,” Dvalin said. “But first… you and I have some catching up to do.”

“Yeah. About that.” Venti fiddled with his necklace. “Are we still together? I mean. I would understand. I let you down. I let the people forget about you and the others. They don’t even recognize me anymore…”

The name that originally belonged to his face had been washed away by time. Venti thought about it often when he was drunk and alone late at night.

Did Venti remember the what they’d called the Nameless Bard?

Dvalin clutched the edge of the pillar tighter. Rubble crumbles away at the edges.

“Do you not love me anymore, Barbatos?” he asked.

Venti startled, his cape flaring in a sudden surprised gust of wind. “What! No! No I mean yes– yes of course I love you! And I said no takebacks when you gave me this scale!”

Dvalin’s eyes closed most of the way, content.

“Exactly… no take-backs.”

Naturally, when one was out on a boat and the air got chilly, common sense was to take the boat to shore and go into a house, or bundle up if the boat was on a longer journey. Wriothesley, of course, had been promised a night under the lake, so rather than taking the boat to shore, it had been tied to a buoy outside the city, and Wriothesley, his things, and the picnic basket had been dragged underwater.

Neuvillette was right. His foyer was more impressive in low tide. The tunnel leading up into the cavern let out into much shallower water, revealing hundreds of glowing Romaritime Flowers covering the floor of the pool everywhere except along a path up to the higher part of the cave. There were stone statues of otters playfully holding seashells dotted across this underwater flower field.

But Wriothesley did not spent much time admiring this little garden, as Neuvillette was leading him by the hand further into his den. They sunk into the hot spring in his bedroom on pretense of warming Wriothesley up. Neuvillette left and returned with a pot of tea and an assortment of biscuits.

“Monsieur, your bedside manner, as always, is impeccable,” Wriothesley said, raising his teacup to him before he drank. “Oh! This is Liffeys’ Teas’ Bulle Fruit Infusion?”

“I have… re-stocked my larder and tea cabinet, recently,” Neuvillette said, “I had not realized before this place was not fitted properly for guests.”

“You have transformed your draconic bachelor pad into a nest fit to receive a boyfriend?” Wriothesley joked, but Neuvillette nodded.

“I have organized some clutter and…” He blushed. “… Installed a toothbrush holder with more apertures in it. Supplying another toothbrush felt presumptuous. But I thought you may not like to leave yours in your bag on the nights that you do visit.”

“A toothbrush holder. You saucy thing.” Wriothesley leaned over and kissed the tip of his nose.

And then Wriothesley was the one hesitating. “I… have never had a relationship serious enough to leave a toothbrush or extra clothes at their place,” he said.

Neuvillette frowned. “I find that hard to believe. You are handsome, strong, wield a Vision, and are an entitled lord with significant holdings.”

Wriothesley held his teacup tightly in both hands.

“People in the Fortress work for me and people outside of the Fortress are scared of me if they figure out who I am. Or at least… put off. They don’t want to do anything bad around me.”

He shrugged, trying to brush it off. “So… I had a boyfriend when I was a convict. His sentence ended before mine and I never saw him again. And after that, I’ve gone through periods where I trawled a hookup spot until word got around that establishment who I was. Some of those flings evolved into something longer, but it never got serious. Me being so busy, and all.”

“… I see.” Neuvillette held his arms towards him, glanced at his teacup, then simply scooted closer.

“I’d probably be married by now if I hadn’t been put away,” Wriothesley noted.

Neuvillette sat back.

“Wriothesley, I– ”

Wriothesley held up a hand. “No, wait. I didn’t mean that against you. There’s lot of other scenarios that might have resulted in me having a less depressing love life before we got together. If I was up in the world more often, or if I hadn’t stayed on as Administrator after my sentence ended.”

“… I am glad you have stayed on as Administrator, overall,” Neuvillete said. “You have provided invaluable service to Meropide and to Fontaine.”

“I know,” Wriothesley said. “I’m proud of the work I’ve done. I have very few regrets in life. … I have killed the mood, haven’t I.”

This time, Neuvillette did take Wriothesley into his arms, the both of them sitting in chest-deep water on the steps into the hot spring.

“It has, over all, been a very good day for me. I would not worry about this. I… would rather you feel comfortable speaking truthfully with me.”

Wriothesley sighed and leaned back against his chest. “I… guess I would say the same. On both counts. Honesty preferred. Very good day.”

He let Neuvillette feed him a biscuit.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said, “Is this a habit from looking after younger Melusines, or another dragon instinct thing?”

Neuvillette thought about it. “I am unsure. Perhaps I am just doting in nature.”

He fed Wriothesley another biscuit.

“I could write and ask,” he realized. “There are gaps in my biology textbook.”

“… The person who wrote your textbook is still alive?” Wriothesley said.

“Of course,” said Neuvillette, “I am not terribly old, for a dragon.”

“So you won’t let me see if for the privacy of its author. Who you are in contact with,” Wriothesley said, unable to stop himself from a little detective work.

“Yes. For the privacy of the author. I should not have said this much, perhaps, even though I doubt you will go hunting another dragon down for any reason, even curiosity.”

Wriothesley grinned and nudged Neuvillette with his elbow. “One is enough for me.”

Neuvillette smiled. “I should hope that is the case. I have no plans to share you.”

He leaned over to kiss him. Wriothesley was not sure if it was the spirit of the moment or an attempt to comfort him from earlier, but either way, he set his teacup aside and leaned into the kiss.

Things moved quickly after that. Wet clothes were shrugged off to the side of the spring, and Neuvillette stretched Wriothesley open much more hurriedly than the last time they’d been here like this, eager to drag him back into the depths.

Neuvillette was gentler with him this time. He held him in looser coils, cradled him in his hands. Wriothesley figured out that with Neuvillette at this size, he could take his huge cock, the one that was not inside him, into both hands and curl up enough to lick at the glans. He came twice, marveling at the size of the thing in his hands and grinding eagerly against it with his own, being slowly, repeatedly impaled on Neuvillette at he went.

The water churned around them as Wriothesley managed to get both of Neuvillette off at nearly the same time, clouding rapidly with white when Wriothesley could not swallow everything. Neuvillette had to pull Wriothesley out of the water and rinse him off in the human-sized bathtub.

“If the water got too saturated with your cum, would I have drowned?” Wriothesley asked.

Neuvillette spluttered. “I… do not wissssh… to tessst this,” he said.

“You hiss when you’re startled too? I thought it was just when you got turned on.”

“I am sssstill coming down,” Neuvillette said defensively.

Wriothesley put his toothbrush in the second hole of Neuvillette’s new toothbrush holder with a great flourish when they got ready for bed. Neuvillette was still pleased when he tucked Wriothesley into bed, pressing soft kisses into his cheeks and hissing softly to himself.

“Good night, Monsieur,” Wriothesley chuckled.

He felt Neuvillette’s tail tug him close, until he was nestled under Neuvillette’s chin.

“Good night, Wriothesley.”

Wriothesley was in a very good mood when he got on the Aquabus back to Erinnyes. While many people went back to the city after the lower court’s morning trials, few people traveled to Erinnyes during lunchtime, and at first, Wriothesley thought he was alone on the craft.

“You have been doing well for yourself,” said a low, calm voice at the far end of the boat.

Wriothesley turned to look at the person pulling him from his thoughts. “Can I help you with something?” he asked.

The other passenger was a woman, tall, in a sharp and elegant suit with flared legs. Her white hair, pulled into a low ponytail, was streaked with black and faded to red at the tips. Her eyes were scarlet, with something unsettling about them.

“I think the question is whether I can help you,” she said.

When she opened her painted mouth next, she called Wriothesley a name he had not used for seventeen years.

Wriothesley stood fast, setting the aquabus rocking violently.

“Your Grace, not again,” hissed Aeval at the helm, but Wriothesley did not hear her.

“You,” he said to the stranger. “Who are you.”

“You can’t recall– “ she used his old name again, “ – ? I taught you how to tie your shoes.”

Wriothesley remembered a girl who had black hair, whose smiles were warm, who taught everyone how to tie their shoes, who had incredible taste in teaware, who had once held him when he scraped his knee. She had left their foster home early for another orphanage for reasons that had not been explained to Wriothesley. Knowing what he learned about his foster parents later, he had assumed this particular elder sister was long dead.

He uttered a name that the woman in front of him did not seem to respond to.

“These days,” she said, folding her hands neatly in her lap, “I have been called Arleccino.”

Chapter Text

“These days, they call me Arleccino.”

Wriothesley was a worldly man. He knew what that meant.

Twelve years ago, Wriothesley had kept a close eye on the comings and goings of the Administrator of Meropide’s office. Ever since his first boyfriend’s sentence ended, even with his Pankration matches, the investments he made with his winnings, and the other business ventures he used to keep himself flush with Credit Coupons, nothing had the same shine to it anymore. And so, in his boredom, Wriothesley had turned to espionage as a hobby.

In a forgotten storeroom in the near-collapsed old tunnels of Meropide, Wriothesley had found blueprints for parts of the fortress’s construction. The Administrator’s office was a designed to be airtight and watertight, in case of flooding, but it had air vents that were meant to be kept open outside of such emergencies to keep the oxygen cycling. Wriothesley traced the duct lines with his fingers and found that one exhaust port, high on one side, came directly out of the main office itself.

He climbed up one day after watching the Administrator receive a guest and found that, as he suspected, he could just barely hear conversations taking place in the Administrator’s office.

(In a few years, when Wriothesley chased the Administrator out and took over the job, he would reroute the duct to fix this security issue.)

Wriothesley had seen the Administrator go into his office arm in arm with a guest. The stranger was a suspiciously beautiful man in a white coat with a collar made of black fur. He had long black hair, tied back with a ribbon, and wore glasses. His voice was soft, but seemed laced with poison as it echoed up through the vent to the port Wriothesley held his ear to.

“I am pleased to hear how well the experiment has been going,” chuckled the stranger. “When I brought you the idea of the Credit Coupons, I merely meant to solve your concerns about money coming in and out of the Fortress.”

The Administrator laughed unkindly. “Lord Regrator, if that were true, you would not have sold me the rights to use them, or made this bet with me,” he said. “It is true, though. Instead of Mora smuggled in and out of the Fortress, Credit Coupons have become the lifeblood of everyone in Meropide. It only took two years for all of the inmates to forget the promise of a reserve to cash in their Credit Coupons for Mora when they left. Without fail, as they reach the ends of their sentences, they spend everything as if it burns a hole in their pocket.”

The stranger – Lord Regrator – hummed, sounding pleased. “An entirely separate economy under the ocean, operating outside of the Mora that comes from the God of Contracts. I am so glad you’ve made use of my little game. So, then, what happened to your reserve, when the inmates forgot?”

“The guards continued to cash in at the reserve for another two years. Then… also as you suspected… when I made it more difficult to return topside for shore leave, they found being able to use the Credit Coupons to buy favors from inmates more valuable.”

“Do you use Mora in the fortress at all, then?”

“Only when purchasing supplies for the Fortress’s maintenance, and paying the employees’ regular salary. Some of the guards have been asking for their pay to be switched out for Credit Coupons, as well.”

The Administrator laughed again. Wriothesley had never heard him laugh before today, and he was quickly finding that he did not like it.

“Then,” said Lord Regrator, “You must be ready to return the reserve fund to me. All fifty million Mora of it.”

The Administrator’s laugh cut off into coughing. “Well – fifty million – was it really fifty million? I could have sworn it was thirty million.”

“Ah, but there is the interest from your loan. You have paid no installments in the last ten years. Calculating for the perceived gains to your personal funds from only using Mora to line your own pockets, adjusting for the inflated prices of food during the flooding of Erinnyes three years ago… you owe me forty-nine million, nine hundred and ninety-eight thousand, six hundred twenty-three Mora. I have rounded up to impress the weight of this sum to a man of your intellectual capacity.”

“Intellectual capa – ”

“Oh, forgive me. I am calling you a buffoon who has fifty million Mora in debt to the Northland Bank. Feel free to begin your repayments any time… if your debt reaches fifty-one million, you may find you do not enjoy the consequences.”

“Then – this is the real purpose of your visit,” the Administrator said. “Not to check on the experiment.”

“Oh, no, it is both things, and another thing,” said Lord Regrator. “We have welcomed a new Knave at last. You may make your loan repayments to Arleccino at the Hotel Bouffes d’ete. And surely you have not forgotten… you owe six hundred and eighty thousand Mora to the House of the Hearth as well? She is now the creditor for that debt.”

Hearing the Administrator cry and beg for more time, for an extension to his loans, had turned Wriothesley’s stomach. This man was known for his cruelty, for his absolute hold on the place.

In the Fortress of Meropide, those who did not work, did not eat. Meals could be obtained only through purchase with Credit Coupons. Back then. credit Coupons also could not be given away freely, and must always be handed over in exchange for goods or services rendered. When Wriothesley had first come there, he had been relieved that his lack of Mora would not cause him problems, that he could work and earn Credit Coupons enough to live the same as everyone else, but then he got sick for the first time. Nurse Sigewinne always signed off on the costs of medical care and claimed that nothing was owed, but Wriothesley could not work enough to earn his meals when he was bedridden. His boyfriend had handed him Credit Coupons under the table and helped him walk to the cafeteria, but the guards had demanded to know how Wriothesley earned them.

Flustered and scared on the spot, Wriothesley’s sweet, hardworking, honest boyfriend had insisted that Wriothesley received his Credit Coupons for “being cute,” and both boys had gotten “prostitution” stamped onto their permanent records.

There were no fines, no punishments, no time added to their sentences, but Wriothesley and his boyfriend knew that every guard in the Fortress would know, and that they could tell other prisoners if they felt like it. Wriothesley had refused to let his boyfriend go anywhere alone for weeks after this encounter and had gotten into five fistfights over this new mark on his record by the end of the month.

The Administrator of Meropide was the kind of man who let this kind of thing happen. As long as the rules about work and Credit Coupons were followed, as long as the inmates stayed inside Meropide until their time was served, he did not care much what actually happened to the people there.

And this “Lord Regrator” had a chokehold on a man that powerful.

Years later, when Wriothesley became Administrator, he would receive a letter assuring him that his predecessor had been caught by the Northland Bank’s operatives, and that he would not be responsible for the remaining twenty-two million mora still owed, as it was a personal loan and not one made by the Fortress of Meropide as an institution.

The letter was signed Pantalone, Lord Regrator, Ninth of her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers.

“Arleccino,” Wriothesley said. “So the orphanage you were sent to…”

“Yes. Our parents sold me to the House of the Hearth.” Arleccino smiled, and it was almost sweet. “The previous Knave put in an… early request. I had shown potential, you see.”

Wriothesley scowled. “That much is clear. Do what do I owe the honor of this conveniently empty Aquabus?”

Aeval was here, of course, guiding the Aquabus. She would surely call other Gardes to come help when they reached Erinnyes if there was trouble, and she would certainly report this meeting had occurred. But Arleccino would know that, and she was not bothered by it.

“It is not like family to check in on each other?” she said. “Even if I have another family now, I have always admired your grit. The way you took out our parents was… quite the inspiration. I often wish I had thought of it myself.”

Wriothesley flexed his hands, checking that his gauntlets were in good condition in case this was real trouble. “If you’re trying to blackmail me, you won’t get anywhere with it. I have already served my time.”

Arleccino tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. “And yet, you stay in Meropide. Perhaps you feel there is more for you to atone for? I don’t think you need to feel that way. When I looked into you, I discovered that you arranged for many of our siblings to be saved, and the younger ones moved to homes that had a chance of a warm home with real kindness.”

She smiled again. “And don’t worry… the ones you couldn’t find, I went and collected myself. But I am not here about them. As I said, I believe there is something I could do to help you.”

The aquabus reached the station. Wriothesley nodded to Aeval and walked away, briskly, without acknowledging Arleccino further. When she followed, easily keeping pace on long legs, Wriothesley went down a smaller path off from the fountain and stopped in a secluded area surrounded by trees.

No matter who Arleccino had been twenty years ago, she was a Harbinger now. Wriothesley would not have this conversation publicly. He would not get rumors starting. He would not cause a scene if things got out of hand.

“I wasn’t aware it seemed like the Fortress of Meropide needed assistance,” Wriothesley said, slowly, leaning back against a tree.

Arleccino stood upright in the middle of the road, hands crossed behind her back. Where Wriothesley showed casual indifference to show he wasn’t intimidated by her, her formal stance was a display of power.

“A place like the Fortress of Meropide always needs assistance. I know for a fact that we used to provide support in the past,” she said.

Wriothesley shrugged. “And I seem to recall receiving official documentation that the debt owed to your Ninth has been recouped. Meropide is not in a position where I need to take out another loan.”

“I am not offering Mora, or any other material goods. I am offering information in exchange for information,” said Arleccino.

“You know that I’m not going to share anything that’s classified,” Wriothesley said. “If that’s all, I will be on my way.”

He started to turn to leave. Arleccino took as step as if to follow him.

“Surely, even with the safety of your little fortress, you must be concerned with the matter of the prophecy,” she said. “Meropide would be fine at first if the rest of Fontaine was submerged, but there’s no way you have the means to feed everyone forever. Are you hiding in your galvanized bubble, waiting to weather the storm? What about all of our siblings still on the land? And what about your Chief Justice? I imagine you would miss him.”

“I am not without care for the prophecy,” Wriothesley said. “I simply have no prerogative to ask for your help in some plan to stop it.”

Arleccino frowned. “There is also, of course, the chance that your Chief Justice might be upset if he knew about our connection.”

… She wouldn’t. The Harbingers’ origins were always kept as protected information. This was the point of the masks, the codenames, all of it. Arleccino had only come forward to Wriothesley at all because her legal name had been changed to something other than what it was when he knew her. Revealing their shared childhood to the authorities would only put a larger target on her own back.

So she wouldn’t. Right?

Wriothesley scoffed. “He knows where I come from. You may be shocked to hear this, Knave, but he was there at my trial.”

“Oh, I remember, I was there too. The previous ‘Father’ got me a ticket. I was so proud of you.”

She smiled again, more genuinely than the sharp smiles she’d worn earlier today to hide threats. “And of course I read the case file when it was put into public archive. So much blood… you fought them to the last shred of your strength. The Gardes carried you out unconscious, didn’t they? Did you wake up in hospital in chains? I hear they only do that for the most violent criminals. You were still in manacles when you took the stands…”

The Harbinger put a hand over her heart. “It really is a shame that you hide your past. Imagine what you could do with the respect such a reputation would give you.”

“I have earned plenty respect as it is,” Wriothesley said. He fought the urge to clench his hands into fists, to lash out, to try and shut her up. He had to keep his temper in check. He could not act here in anger, just to shake off the frigid cold settling into his chest.

“So you have. But that does not diminish your other accomplishments. You saved those children, Your Grace. And the world may have forgotten with a little change in name, but I will not. I see you– ”

She called him by his old name again.

“ – But perhaps you are not ready to strike that deal just yet. I will come find you again. But you should know you can trust me. After all, when did I ever steer you wrong?”

Arleccino, the Knave, the Fourth of Her Majesty the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers, turned to leave before Wriothesley could respond.

Wriothesley returned the Fortress of Meropide and went immediately into his office without speaking to anyone. This was not especially odd behavior for him, but it was noticed when he did not to leave his rooms for dinner, or for breakfast the next day.

He’d almost forgotten what he was. No matter how much work he put into making Meropide a better place, no matter how many titles and accolades he collected, it would never change the ten years he had spent a prisoner. Meropide had made him, but there was also no separating him from Meropide.

“I hear they only do that for the most violent criminals.”

It was true. The brutality with which Wriothesley did away with his foster parents had shocked the entire Court of Fontaine, himself included. Wriothesley had not realized he had the capacity for that kind of violence until he was sitting in a puddle of blood with the Gardiennage closing in.

His “mother” had fought harder than his “father.” Neither of them had seen him coming. When Wriothesley came into the kitchen where they were, their eyes had widened, but then they smiled. For a long moment, Wriothesley was back in the only home he had ever known, with the parents who loved him.

“Where have you been, – ? We looked everywhere for you!”

“Are you hurt? You look so cold, my boy. Come inside.”

And Wriothesley had struck. “Father” was closer, and Wriothesley knew he was strong enough to hoist a twelve-year-old boy with a broken arm onto his shoulders and run to a hospital when he had to. He had to go down first. Wriothesley could still remember the feeling of his ribs crunching under his gauntlets, the horrible wheeze of a punctured lung.

“Mother” had screamed and launched herself at Wriothesley with a knife. She had been yelling, but Wriothesley didn’t register the words until later.

“Who told you,” was all she said. She didn’t ask why, didn’t try to make excuses. Wriothesley had howled in rage rather than answer properly and set into her next. After a certain point, his gauntlets jammed up from the blood and gristle stuck in the joints and wouldn’t shoot shrapnel anymore, and the fight became a wrestle for the knife, or anything else the both of them could grab.

Just before Wriothesley passed out, laying halfway between the two shredded bodies, he made eye contact with a child standing in the doorway.

Claudette. She was only six. She shouldn’t have had to see any of this…

But the prosecution made her testify.

Wriothesley’s little sister, dressed all in black, wrung out her long braid with sweating hands while she recounted her parents’ deaths. She wouldn’t look at him. And why would she? Wriothesley had destroyed her home. Her family. Just like Wriothesley, she had been there since she was only a few weeks old. She didn’t know what danger she had faced in that house. Just that Wriothesley had shredded it in his hands.

The only mercy in that trial was that they hadn’t called any of Wriothesley’s other younger siblings as witnesses. One older brother, who had escaped from being put on a boat to Schneznaya and become a teacher in Poisson, testified, as well as the two men he and Wriothesley had named as their parents’ business partners.

Wriothesley had never seen either of them in Meropide. He found out later that one was assassinated before his trial, and the other opted for a match with a Champion Duelist, which he did not survive.

Neuvillette had the best seat in the house for that entire depressing circus. Neuvillette’s expression had stayed as still as it always did when he oversaw a trial, and he spoke very little throughout the proceedings. Until it was time for the sentencing, he only observed, allowing the lawyers to ask the questions.

This solemn gaze had not left Wriothesley the entire time he was on the stands. The weight of it had terrified him. It had made it difficult to see the audience’s stares, to hear the roar of whispers behind him. Strangely, this trance, the feeling that it was only Wriothesley and the Chief Justice in the room, gave Wriothesley the strength to tell the Court everything he could. Every detail. Every bit of information that might help stop this from happening to any more children. And every last thing he had done to his parents. He laid every part of his sin bare, down to the last gruesome detail.

There was no justice in the life he had lived until that point. He at least wanted his punishment to be fair. He wanted nothing more than to drag the filth of his upbringing down below the waves, and let it never come out to see the light of day.

(How fitting, then, that Wriothesley had stayed in Meropide even after the end of his sentence.)

The rain had pelted Wriothesley’s face hard enough to sting when he was escorted down into the Fortress of Meropide, but Wriothesley did not know what that meant at the time. He only knew that he was going under the ocean for ten years that would have been fifty if he were an adult.

How could Neuvillette trust Wriothesley enough to work with him, let alone enough to hold him?

It was all more than Wriothesley deserved.

The morning two days after Venti and Dvalin’s reunion saw Venti waking up long after the sun was high. He came to sitting in a deep puddle of room-temperature cum, nestled among a clutch of five eggs half his size.

Venti was not the type to bother cleaning up before he fell asleep, and Dvalin… well, Dvalin was still all tuckered out. The dragon was curled protectively around the pool of stickiness, his breath a rumbling snore. Not that Venti was doing much better; when he tried to stand so he could go see if there was any wine in the cellar, he fell over and landed across the eggs again.

They were so pretty, even prettier than he remembered, with their turquoise surfaces with clusters of white speckles that resembled clouds. The shells were soft, almost leathery in texture. When Venti had fallen asleep, they’d been warm, but they were still comfortable to lie on now that they’d gone cold. It was warm enough in here anyway, despite the wind howling outside the windows, swaddled in quilts and dandelion silk, with his dragon curled around him.

The Sovereign of Wind’s nest was a grand thing, a deep depression among the rubble of Decabrian’s throne room, with a thick blanket of dandelion puffs covering the bottom. In the corners of the room, there were piles of treasures most humans in this age could never imagine. Dvalin preferred to lie on something soft with his shiny things forming a protective wall around him, over burrowing into the excess of gold and gemstones and mora and jewelry made of beaten starsilver and fine statues and masterwork swords and musical instruments that could make men cry to hear their songs and–

Dvalin shifted and tucked Venti under his wing.

“You woke early. It is not even noon,” he teased.

Venti rolled over to snuggle into his side. “Maybe I wanted to see you again~”

“Maybe you cannot walk and need me to feed you.”

Venti stuck his tongue out at the dragon and blew an Anemo-infused raspberry that echoed off the walls.

“Feed me, then! Your mate is starving, rendered too weak to even forage for liquor. I could probably fly, but I’m too tiiiiiired to bring my wings back out.”

Dvalin uncoiled himself enough to grab a clawful of apples from a shelf and deposit them onto a clean part of the floor in front of Venti. He blew the dirt off of the biggest, reddest fruit and munched happily.

“We should go and say hi to Morax soon,” he said, with his mouth full, “It’s not fair that he didn’t tell us. We could have thrown him the most incredible bachelor party in the history of Tevyat.”

Dvalin snatched an apple between his teeth and swallowed it whole. “Travel to Liyue will be difficult with how I acted when I was cursed. I… will have to take a human form.”

Venti hissed in a breath through his teeth. “Oh… Dvalin, it’s okay… maybe he can come to us.”

Dvalin did not have a great track record when it came to disguising himself as a human. Sure, Morax was conspicuous if you already knew him, but Dvalin never seemed to be able to put his horns away, or his claws would stick out, or the wind would kick up into a gale whenever he sneezed.

“I want to have the party,” Dvalin said.

He gave Venti his best wide-eyed look, his wings puffed up around him, half-buried in dandelion fluff, his tail beating on the ground excitedly.

Venti couldn’t say no to that face.

“Let’s go into Mond and practice first, okay? Oh, and I should clean up. Some big dragon ravaged me for two days and left me all gross. I’m a performer, you know, if this stuff messes with my complexion and I’m not pretty anymore I could starve– ”

Dvalin grabbed Venti in his talons and took off into the sky. Both of them were laughing when Dvalin dropped Venti into the lake at the northern end of the valley.

Neuvillette spent the next few days after his one-month anniversary in the haze of a light, warm feeling he was not used to.

The date with Wriothesley had gone so well, and he would see him again soon. It was almost the last Wednesday in the month, the day their secret task force would discuss progress on the matter of the Primordial Sea and the enormous ship being built under Meropide. The two had made plans for Neuvillette to stay in Wriothesley’s quarters afterwards.

Wriothesley had smiled and said in his most sultry voice that Neuvillette should bring a spare toothbrush, because he would be leaving it there. Neuvillette’s bag was already packed for that night. Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself, but he had procured another hairbrush as well, and a second set of pajamas, which he thought he might suggest to leave in Wriothesley’s wardrobe…

Neuvillette was capable of going through case files even with these thoughts on his mind, but he was still distracted enough that the rapid knock on his door still startled him.

Sedene poked her head into the office. “Do you have a minute, Monsieur Neuvillette? Sigewinne is here. It seems serious.”

“Sigewinne?” Neuvillette sat up straighter. “Please, come in. You are always welcome.”

Sigewinne hurried into the office. Her red eyes were wide with – worry? Maybe pain?

Neuvillette’s throat tightened. “Tell me what is wrong.”

“Monsieur Neuvillette,” she said, “I do not know what you and His Grace fought about, but no matter who was in the wrong, I think you should apologize first.”

It was as if the world came crashing down around Neuvillette’s ears.

“I beg your pardon?” he said.

Sigewinne hurried around the desk to tug at his sleeve. “He’s been locked away in his office for four days. He won’t let anyone in. I know he has plenty of food and water in there, but he won’t even talk to me.”

She was blinking rapidly, clinging to Neuvillette’s arm. “He told me to leave him alone the first time I came by and said nothing on any of my other visits. I can hear his heartbeat, his breathing, and occasional footsteps, so I can tell he isn’t sick or injured. But he is in some kind of distress. I went to pick the lock to see if he had alcohol in there but he seems to have frozen the door shut–”

Tears started to roll down her cheeks. Neuvillette gathered the Melusine into his lap and let her wipe her face dry on his cravat.

“We did not argue during the outing. And he was in high spirits when he left to return home,” said Neuvillette. “I… do not understand.”

Sigewinne shook her head. “Everyone who saw him walk past when he returned saw that he was not his usual self. Monsieur Neuvillette… I’m sorry, but are you sure that he was happy? Or was he hiding again?”

“… Hiding?”

The Melusine nodded, sniffling. “His Grace doesn’t like to show when he is in pain. Just like many other animals, humans often pretend they are all right around others, then isolate themselves so that they can lick their wounds in private. ”

“Their wounds,” Neuvillette repeated. “He did not look hurt. Well – he did get a bit ‘sun-burnt,’ but when I helped him apply the lotion for that, I did not find any other injuries.”

“I don’t mean physical wounds. No one saw His Grace bleeding or anything like that. Are you sure you didn’t argue at all? Maybe he brushed it off because he did not wish to offend you.”

Neuvillette thought hard, but shook his head. “We had no disagreements. It was a pleasant day out, and we spent the night, and he walked me back to the Palais after we had breakfast in the city.”

Wriothesley had been grinning all morning. He held his hand at their table in Cafe Lucerne, and stolen a sip of Neuvillette’s cafe latte and laughed when he got milk foam stuck on his face.

What if that had all been a lie?

The sky overhead began to darken.

“… Would he truly hide his distress to that extent? If I said something that upset him.”

Sigewinne wiggled out of Neuvillette’s grip to stand on his desk so she could look him in the eye.

“His Grace always downplays when he is hurt. Even when I catch on, he tells me it is ‘nothing’, or that he will get over it once he has some tea or sleeps on it, or he tries to change the subject. He does not like talking about himself, and he does not like seeming weak in front of others. I’m his nurse, and he only shows vulnerability around me when he is inebriated or in need of medical care.”

“You have brought up alcohol twice,” Neuvillette said. “Is this a particular issue for him?”

He was well aware of the health risks associated with alcohol in humans. They came up in trials quite often. Had Neuvillette said or done something so harmful to Wriothesley that he had driven him to drink? Or had he made an existing drinking problem worse?

Sigewinne hesitated. “I can’t break his confidentiality as my patient. But I can say that as his friend, he has asked me to monitor his consumption…”

The first raindrops pattered against the windows.

“I cannot put off today’s trial,” Neuvillette said. “Do what you can to monitor him until the sentencing is over.”

The trial, concerning the murder of one of the Fontaine Research Institute’s top scientists, was unpleasant as these cases always were, and required expert witnesses who rattled off scientific terms that the Court required several in-depth explanations of. Neuvillette gave the story that unfolded the attention it was due while a storm raged outside.

The defendant was found to be innocent. It was revealed that her prototype meka had been sabotaged by her research partner, who had killed their advisor in an attempt to steal some of his research for her own.

The woman being led away in handcuffs would be in the Fortress of Meropide before Neuvillette could even leave the Opera Epiclese. After any trial, there was always a brief discussion to be had with the legal team, documents to sign, and other small tasks. Furina tried to hold Neuvillette for tea “until the weather cleared up” before heading into the carriage back to the Palais Mermonia. Neuvillette waved her off and headed out into the rain.

The elevator down into Meropide seemed far too long by himself. He had grown far too used to riding it with Wriothesley at his side.

What had he said to cause Wriothesley to lock himself away like this? He couldn’t think of anything obvious. Was it his discussion of the Cataclysm? Perhaps the mention of previous lovers? That sort of thing had sometimes caused a strange, dark look to cross Wriothesley’s features, but it had never stuck around.

The elevator chimed to announce the end of its descent, and Neuvillette headed down to take the next elevator to the administrative level. He barely nodded to the Meropide staff who greeted him. His features were as calm as ever, but his steps were brisk. It was all he could do to keep from hurrying.

Sigewinne caught up with him as he passed the infirmary. She reported that nothing had changed in Wriothesley’s vitals in the past few hours, and that he was still locked away.

Neuvillette soon reached he door into Wriothesley’s office. He knocked with the head of his cane.

“Your Grace. It is Neuvillette. Let me in.”

No answer.

Neuvillette tried the door. It was usually unlocked during working hours, but as Sigewinne said, it would not open. The lock did not even rattle, as if it really had been frozen shut, to the point that the gears would not turn.

“Please. I will find a way to open this door if I must, but I need to speak with you.”

Only silence in response.

Neuvillette knew that Wriothesley might not be on the main floor of the office, that he may be in his quarters above or the secret chambers overseeing the Forbidden Zone below. Still, he pressed on.

“Your Grace. I understand if you are upset with me. But if you do not tell me what it is I said, I have no way to try and make amends– ”

There was a soft click as the doors swung ever so slightly inwards. When Neuvillette pushed them open to come inside, he stepped over several large chunks of ice.

Wriothesley was on the stairs up into the main part of the office, his hand still outstretched from unfreezing the lock.

After shutting himself in his office for four days, Neuvillette thought Wriothesley might be dressed down, or perhaps more unkempt if he had not slept, but he was wearing his ordinary clothes and appeared to have kept up the same personal hygiene regimen he usually did. He simply looked… unwell. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he leaned more heavily on the stair rail than normal.

“If you make all that noise, my inmates are going to think I broke up the hottest new couple in all of Fontaine,” Wriothesley said. He gave Neuvillette a smile that was more of a wince.

Neuvillette closed the door, but he did not come further into the room. If Wriothesley was truly upset with him, not matter how he wanted to pull him into his arms, he must stay put.

“Please tell me what it is I said,” he said again.

Wriothesley frowned. “Yeah, I heard you. What are you talking about?”

“Sigewinne told me. After our date ended, you came down here in a foul temper, and would not speak with anyone. I have replayed that day over in my mind, and cannot think of something that would have put you in such a state, but I am well aware that the realm of human emotion is far beyond me. I must have made some grave error unknowingly, that you could not tell me of when you were trapped alone with me on the island. Please– ”

“All right, all right, slow down.” Wriothesley held up a hand to stop him. “No, that’s not what happened. It’s… something else. We’re good. Sigewinne must have leapt to some kind of extreme conclusion. I’m sorry for all the trouble, but I promise you haven’t done anything wrong. You can head home now. It’s getting late.”

And he turned and started to head back up the stairs.

“What is it, then?”

The words spilled out of Neuvillette’s mouth as his thoughts overflowed.

Wriothesley stopped, shoulders tense. “… I told you. It’s my problem.”

“That is all? You have isolated yourself in here for four days, and you dismiss it like that?”

“I haven’t been moping and doing nothing. I had some bookkeeping to catch up on. I just… haven’t felt too social,” Wriothesley supplied. “You probably have an early schedule in the morning. You should get going.”

The tight feeling in Neuvillette’s chest squeezed his lungs harder.

“No,” he said.

“No?”

“You are the one who told me to send an express post letter when I am upset and wish for company,” Neuvillette insisted. “You have been adamant, since we began seeing each other, that my feelings are worth serious regard and respect. What sort of lover am I, then, to let you dismiss your own feelings, and ignore you when you are in pain?”

Wriothesley gripped the stair rail tighter. “Monsieur… really, you don’t need to…”

“No, Your Grace. But I do not wish to let you sit through whatever this is alone. Talk with me.”

The Duke’s shoulders dropped. “You have a tight schedule right before whenever we have plans like we do for later this week. Really, don’t worry about it. How’s the weather outside?”

Another attempt to change the subject. Neuvillette narrowed his eyes.

“As you have mentioned in the past, you cannot see the weather from down here. So you will have to tell me about your issue instead.”

“Celestia. Can’t a thirty-two-year-old man throw a tantrum once in awhile without everyone around him panicking?”

He started up the stairs again, gesturing for Neuvillette to follow. “I’ll put on some tea.”

Wriothesley gestured for Neuvillette to sit on the couch in the main office space and set about starting a kettle of water and getting out his tea set. He would not look at Neuvillette, as he picked up and put down several tins of tea leaves.

“You are finding small tasks to do to put off our conversation,” Neuvillette accused of him.

“Yes. Let me think,” Wriothesley snapped.

He wilted again. “Sorry. It’s really nothing so serious. I just… overreacted. When I tell you, you’re going to think the same thing.”

“Perhaps. And yet Sigewinne has been standing outside your door every night monitoring your vital signs,” Neuvillette said.

“She has real patients to worry about,” Wriothesley muttered. “I told her to leave it alone.”

Neuvillette crossed his arms. “She asked me to find out if you had been drinking?”

“Just tea. Lots of it.” Wriothesley set a fully-loaded tea tray down on the table, flipped a small sand timer, and came around to sit on the other end of the couch. When Neuvillette reached for him, he hesitated before he shifted closer and let him take his hands.

“I’ll need those back in three minutes,” Wriothesley said, gesturing to the sand timer with this elbow.

“Which tea is this?” Neuvillette asked.

Perhaps discussing the tea would calm Wriothesley down before they had the more serious conversation. Wriothesley had asked him about his collection of exotic springwaters before in similar situations, when Neuvillette was the one who was upset.

And Wriothesley did relax, a little, into his hands. “Black tea with a mint and mistflower corolla infusion. They drink it in the jungles of Sumeru to stave off the heat. An Akademiya researcher who’s been staying here to collaborate with one of the inmates introduced me to it.”

“When you say he is staying here…”

Wriothesley shook his head. “No, no, Nakul isn’t here because of a sentence. One of the Six Sages sent a letter of request for him to visit for awhile and keep working with a mathematician who’s here for tax evasion. He’s got a clean record. Nothing like me.”

Neuvillette frowned. “Nothing like you? You served your full sentence.”

Wriothesley shrugged, a sad, half-effort of a motion. “And my time in exile under the ocean washed my sin away. This was the deal the criminals of the past made with Lady Egeria. I know. I’ve read the original document, it’s sealed in glass in one of those cabinets on the wall.”

“But that doesn’t change what I did, Monsieur. I am only able to move freely about the world above because the people who remember that trial don’t realize that fucked-up kid was me.”

He still wouldn’t look at him. It occurred to Neuvillette that watching the sand timer run out was only an excuse to avoid his eyes.

“Is this what has troubled you?” Neuvillette asked softly.

The sand timer ran out. Wriothesley pulled his hands away and poured the tea out of the kettle and into the teapot.

“Hold on. Infusions with ingredients that have elemental energy in them can oversteep pretty fast.”

His voice was calm, but did not hold its usual casual roughness. Neuvillette waited while he poured the tea into two cups.

“I would recommend trying a new blend without milk or sugar.” He dropped two sugar cubes into one cup, and put it on the table near himself, then offered the other cup to Neuvillette.

Neuvillette put his hands over when he went to take the teacup. His fingers did not feel as warm as they usually did through his gloves. “Thank you.”

Finally, Wriothesley looked him in the eye. The pale blue of his eyes was a mirror of ice that reflected nothing.

Neuvillette released his hold on Wriothesley to take the teacup and drink. The undercurrent of chill from the mint and mistflower, even when the tea was hot, was... calming, in a way.

“This is excellent,” he said. “I will try a little sugar with my second cup, perhaps. Now please tell me what is wrong.”

Wriothesley took a long sip of his own tea, stalling for time still.

“Your guess wasn’t too far off. I just… had reminder, recently, of what I am.”

Neuvillette looked at him until he continued.

“A murderer,” Wriothesley clarified. “You can tell me I served my time, or that I was young. But at the end of the day… I don’t know that I wouldn’t do it again.”

“Wriothesley… you are a good man,” Neuvillette said, but Wriothesley continued.

“Dress it up all you like, Monsieur. But I have solved all of my problems with violence. The matter with my parents, well, you know exactly what I did. I didn’t hide anything there. I made my initial Credit Coupon fortune by winning matches in the Pankration ring, once I got strong enough to stop throwing matches in the Pankration ring. When my predecessor decided I was getting too rich and froze my account, I solved that with violence too. I challenged him to an official match. When he never showed, I broke into this office… and found all traces he had ever been here gone.”

He laughed. It sounded oddly hollow. “Except my file was on his desk! So I guess he checked what I was in prison for in the first place, read about my mother’s brains splattered over the kitchen floor, and decided he’d rather quit while he was ahead. After all, if I could do all that when I was fifteen, what the fuck was I going to do when I was twenty-five, and built like a Ruin Grader from punching people out all day?”

Neuvillette did not like the way Wriothesley was smiling. It did not match the strained tone of his voice. Neuvillette’s heart beat faster, and his face felt hot. His stomach tensed.

And he could feel the water above Meropide churning into a storm. He realized he was angry.

But he was not sure who he was angry at. Surely not at Wriothesley, who was in distress. Perhaps at the previous administrator, but he had not caused all of the problems Wriothesley listed.

“And what about what you did afterwards?” Neuvillette said. “Do you remember what you did then?”

“I took over the job because I wasn’t eager to let his Chief Warden have that much unchecked power.”

“Yes, I seem to recall you had that man sacked in the very same letter you sent me to inform me of your taking the position. He met with a Champion Duelist rather than undergo a trial after the documents and inmate testimonies you sent afterwards.”

“Oh, I heard. Poor bastard fought Clorinde rather than come back here, right? Imagine being that scared of me. He was right, of course. Too many people here would have known his face.”

Neuvillette frowned. “It was Dame Clorinde’s third official match, yes. But I do not think you understand what I mean. You took this position as administrator. And afterwards… did things here not improve? Quickly, and to great affect?”

The odd smile dropped from Wriothesley’s face. “… I did what I could, sure. I still do.”

“Would you describe the reforms you put the Fortress of Meropide through as solving your problems through violence? Is that what the people who work here respect you for? What ex-convicts speak so glowingly of you for?”

“I did send that man to his death by exposing his crimes,” Wriothesley said. “That means, in the end, that the way I go about things hasn’t really changed. It’s just that I did it legally that time and let someone else do the dirty work.”

“No.” Neuvillette said, with more force than he meant to.

Wriothesley bristled, his shoulders scrunching up, his face twisting into a scowl. “Yes. I’ve fixed some things around here, sure. And improved things a great deal for myself. But I haven’t changed that much at all. I served my time, and I changed my name, but I am still the same man who did all of those things.”

His voice oddly muted, and his words were slow. When he turned to look at Neuvillette again, he wore the same expression he had at fifteen when he was on the defendant’s stand. That closed-off look that had haunted Neuvillette whenever he closed his eyes, long after that trial that had brought rain for weeks while the criminals implicated in Wriothesley’s testimony were chased down and had their own court dates.

“You are still wrong,” Neuvillette said. “Even then, you had changed. You issued a challenge rather than storming into this office and killing the previous Administrator. You sent evidence of the corruption in Meropide rather than taking matters into your own hands. You trusted the people still here to give accurate testimonies when more information was asked for. You had a following of people who believed in you long before you became the Administrator, or you would never have been able to make the changes you put into place.”

He set down his teacup so he could put both of his hands over Wriothesley’s.

“You are powerful, but it is not from your Vision, or from your rank. There is not a single person who can accomplish anything without some support from others, no matter how strong they are.”

Neuvillette was still angry. Angry at how wrong Wriothesley was about himself, maybe, or angry that when Wriothesley was so upset he could not fix it as easily as he could bring Furina a slice of cake or show Sedene the latest bestselling mystery novel.

But when Wriothesley sagged forwards, and gave just the slightest of nods, Neuvillette felt somewhat better.

“… It makes sense,” Wriothesley said. “What you’re saying. It doesn’t match how I feel. But I don’t know if you’re… entirely wrong.”

He let Neuvillette pull him against his chest and hold him. He did not return the embrace, only leaned against him, letting Neuvillette reposition him. Only when Neuvillette held him tighter did Wriothesley’s shoulders tremble, and his breathing grow unsteady.

A drop of water hit Neuvillette’s shoulder. His first impulse was to glance up at the ceiling for a leak. But the ceiling was dry. He turned his face back down towards Wriothesley–

“Don’t look,” Wriothesley said. His breath hitched again, and the dampness on Neuvillette’s shoulder grew.

So Neuvillette didn’t look. He rested his cheek in Wriothesley’s hair and crushed him close, and the wet patch on Neuvillette’s robe seeped into his skin without further acknowledgment.

Neuvillette didn’t watch the clock, but the tea was cold when Wriothesley pulled away.

“I’ll make another pot,” he said. “Sorry. It’s… late. The aquabus might not be running anymore.”

“Then I will just have to stay here until they start up again in the morning,” Neuvillette said.

“… Fuck,” Wriothesley remembered, “I don’t have the toothbrush holder yet.”

Neuvillette shrugged. “And I did not bring my toothbrush. We are both unprepared for this situation.”

“… I’ll get a fresh one from Rag and Bone. And a mug to put it in. Let me just… wait for my face to get back to normal.”

His cheeks were puffy, and his eyes red and swollen. When Neuvillette leaned in to kiss him, his lips came away tasting oddly salty. He did not ask why.

Wriothesley scrubbed at his eyes with the edge of his sleeve.

“… I’m going to look awful no matter how long I wait. I’ll just go now. Alvard knows better than to ask questions anyway.”

When Wriothesley returned, Neuvillette could hear an anxious Sigewinne squeaking her indignation as Wriothesley kept her from following him into the office.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Sigewinne. Calm down already. Next time, just write to Neuvillette instead of storming into his office. You really scared him.”

“Your Grace! Listen to me. You look so dehydrated–!”

The doors slammed shut.

Neuvillette had another pot of tea with Wriothesley and convinced him to take a bath before bed. Afterwards, Neuvillette wore one of Wriothesley’s nightshirts for once. It was too loose around the shoulders and dangerously short on him, but Wriothesley did not make a single teasing comment. Even Neuvillette could tell the man was exhausted.

“I do have a morning appointment,” Neuvillette murmured, settling close with Wriothesley’s head on his chest, “To be there on time, I will need to leave as early as five-thirty. Do you want me to wake you before I go?”

Wriothesley thought a moment, then nodded.

“… Will you come back?” he said. “Tomorrow night. I know I need to show my face around the Fortress. But it’s going to take a lot out of me. I can tell.”

“Then I will be back. With my own pajamas, perhaps, and some other personal affects.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Despite the request for Neuvillette to stay, Wriothesley did not roll over and cling to him. He let Neuvillette hold him, but he was quiet. Still. Even with his cheek pressed into Neuvillette’s chest, he did not look at him, his eyes staring ahead, as if he were looking at something miles away.

He never fully relaxed into his hold. Even when he closed his eyes and his breathing slowed, Neuvillette was not sure if he had fallen asleep.

Considering the fact that he rarely drank much himself, it had been a long time since Diluc Ragvandir had such a bad headache at work.

The Angel’s share was crowded, and the place was packed to the brim with loud, laughing patrons. It seemed that half the Knights of Favonius were here, and maybe the entire Monstadt branch of the adventurer’s guild, and oh, Kaeya was here, with four of his kids.

“This place is far too flammable for the birthday girl to be in here,” Diluc said through his teeth.

Kaeya, holding Klee on his lap, only smiled wider. “Now, Master Diluc, she’s – how old are you now, again?”

“Klee is this many!” The Spark Knight held up six fingers.

“See? That many. And I won’t be letting go of her until Albedo gets here, and we’ll be right here at the bar in full view until then.”

“And you brought her here, of all places, because… ”

“One Sparkling Berry Juice, please! On the rocks!” Klee’s face was deathly serious. She must have been practicing how to order all day.

“Albedo is bringing her See-Ay-Kay-Ee here soon, and it’s being decorated at headquarters, and we can’t ruin the surprise,” Kaeya explained. “And what could be safer than a place full to bursting with Monstadt’s finest?”

“And Mr. Cape is here!” Klee pointed to the main floor of the bar, where the artist currently known as Venti was playing a particularly fast rendition of The Dandelion-Puff Tunic, a ballad that was, as far as Diluc was concerned, far from appropriate for the children’s ears.

Ah, yes. The other major source of Diluc’s headache. The bard had been in here every night this week, and his mysterious admirer had been sitting at his feet every time.

The man was tall, broad-shouldered as a bear, and had a mane of wild hair in shifting shades of blue. The stranger could drink seemingly endless flagons of wine without the slightest change in his demeanor, his nails were sharp and curved like an eagle’s talons, and the door always simply blew open whenever the man left or entered the bar. There was something familiar about his face in a way that Diluc couldn’t quite pin down, but that didn’t matter, because it was painfully obvious who he was.

If there was one thing worse than Lord Barbatos coming in here every night, it was that he was dragging Stormterror Dvalin in here with him. And, of course, as always, Diluc was the only one who had connected the dots.

The Knights of Favonius truly were worthless. Their Captain of Reconnaissance sat right in the crowd before their God, none the wiser, holding a giggling, drunken Outrider Amber in her lap, her cheeks growing steadily pinker from the bawdy lyrics and the girl plastered to her.

“Still, it was weird,” said Bennett, sitting at the bar next to Kaeya – another kid who was way too young to be here, and definitely only here at all because Kaeya had promised cake – “I’ve never seen a dragon do that.”

“Do what?” Diluc asked, fighting for any sort of distraction from the very real dragon sitting ten feet away who had been terrorizing this city only a few months ago.

“Oh! I took a job from the Adventurer’s Guild to do some recon around Stormterror’s Lair. There’s been some increased Hilichurl activity lately and the Guild is trying to figure out if we need to send out requests to keep them from getting into Wolvendom,” Bennett said, “It wasn’t too bad of a mission. It kept raining, I fell in a ditch and Fischl had to pull me out since Razor was away getting firewood, I got chased by an Abyss Mage across a lake and almost drowned– ”

Diluc sighed. “And what was this about the dragon?” he reminded him.

“Oh! Right!” Bennett laughed. “So, at sunrise, I woke up because I rolled off the cliff we were camped out on, and I saw Stormter… I mean, I saw Dvalin flying wayyy up into the air, then diving straight down, only to change course right before he hit the ground. And then he’d fly up again! And do it all over! And then when a spider bit me really hard the next morning I saw it again. He was at it for hours! Do you think he got hurt again?”

Diluc looked Kaeya. Kaeya looked away. Razor stared at Bennett, his face turning bright red, and Fischl and Klee looked on cluelessly.

(Oz looked suitably horrified.)

“What?” said Bennett.

“I think,” said Kaeya, “That you are lucky the dragon did not notice you saw him doing this.”

Kaeya knew because he had grown up with Diluc. And Diluc had been training in falconry since he was young. And this behavior –

“That. Is how eagles. Make babies,” Razor squeaked.

“Huh?”

“Is the valley gonna be full of baby dragons?” Klee exclaimed. “How does that work? Do they fly up and find them in the clouds and then get so tired they fall down?”

Kaeya laughed. “You know what, Klee? That’s close enough to how it works. You’re a pretty smart cookie.”

Bennett’s face turned progressively redder until he passed out.

Later that evening, after the cake had been cleared away and the children taken home by the Knights, Diluc went outside to take out the trash and found Venti pressed up against the wall by two taloned hands around his waist, his feet dangling while the blue-haired beast of a man bit bruises into his neck.

“You are so shameless,” Venti chuckled, “Wearing a face like that here.”

The stranger who was still definitely Stormterror Dvalin laughed. “You liked the Red-Haired Warrior’s look.”

The Red-Haired Warrior. Part of the band that overthrew King Decabrian with Gunnhildr, Amos, the Nameless Bard, and the wind-sprite that became Barbatos. The Red-Haired Warrior, who had founded the Dawn Winery rather than go with the others to found the city of Mond out of distaste for the wind sprite becoming a God when the victory belonged just as much to the humans who fought alongside him.

The dragon’s human form looked familiar because he had decided to look like Diluc’s ancestor.

“You two could stand to be a little more subtle,” Diluc said.

“Oh, wow,” Venti said, his breath hitching when Dvalin went back to biting his neck, “Speak of the devil, and he will appear – Master Diluc, this is my friend– ”

“I can see that. You know, there are rooms above the tavern. You might be more comfortable there instead of out here in the street?” Diluc suggested. Before poor Bennett came back for the wallet he’d left on the bar and got an eyeful in a way that was even more scarring for his adolescent mind?

Venti beamed. “Oh! Master Diluc! You are too kind– ”

“Fantastic,” Diluc growled, “I will add it to your tab.”

He brought them a room key, left Charles to close the bar for the night, and got out of the city as fast as he could.

After his morning meeting, Neuvillette stormed into the Marechausee Hunter’s main office, the anger he had swallowed down the night before rising back up his throat.

“Who here,” he said, “Saw Duke Wriothesley heading home five mornings ago?”

The Melusines in the office started giggling, and the two human detectives filing paperwork looked up curiously.

“I saw him leave the Palais after kissing you goodbye!” Liath volunteered.

Tristane stood at attention. “I saw him purchase tea leaves and head to the aquabus! He was humming to himself!”

The Melusines started whispering among each other again.

Elphane cleared her throat.

“Aeval saw him. She was covering for me on the Aquabus route to Erinnyes, because I had a personal matter to attend to.”

Unlike the others, she did not seemed cheered by her information.

“What did she tell you?” Neuvillette said.

“He got into an argument with some woman. She didn’t really pick up all the details… you know what a scatterbrain she is.”

“Oh,” said Aeife, “Is that why… he was walking so fast when he passed the Opera Epiclese? I greeted him, but he seemed not to hear me…”

The Melusines’ whispered turned more concerned.

“Is everything… all right?” ventured one of the human detectives.

“Of course. I am simply attempting to figure out a personal matter.” Neuvillette stared at him until he looked away. “If it becomes a full investigation, I will rescind the right to preside over any resulting trial, as always.”

“Did Aeval describe this woman to you at all?” Neuvillette asked Elphane.

“You know… she asked if I knew any women with long white hair? But I know lots of old women,” said Elphane with a shrug. “Most of them do get old eventually, after all.”

An old woman who spoke with Wriothesley and caused him such distress that he locked himself in his office, wracked with guilt over his past. Even this morning, Wriothesley had been withdrawn, in a way that could not only have been due to the early hour.

“I will go and speak with Aeval later, then. Thank you.”

He swept out without another word.

He did not have the time to go and meet with Aeval that day. This investigation could wait, when he had a full schedule, and when going back to Wriothesley as early in the evening as possible took priority.

At least Wriothesley seemed a bit calmer when Neuvillette came and found him in the Fortress of Meropide’s cafeteria. He was sullenly drinking one of Sigewinne’s specially-made milkshakes, while his Head Nurse lectured him on the health risks of self-isolation.

“And I know you work so hard on your figure, Your Grace,” Sigewinne was saying, “You aren’t doing your muscles any favors sitting at your desk all day! Which is all you did, judging by the amount of accounting you did this week!”

“I’ll have to find some way to exercise,” Wriothesley sighed. He glanced over Sigewinne’s head to look at Neuvillette. “Good evening, Monsieur. You got here faster than I thought.”

The inmates were already giving Neuvillette wary looks when he sat down, but when he took the milkshake Sigewinne offered him and took a sip without so much as wincing, the stares increased.

“I will admit,” Neuvillette said, “Our recent discussions have me… somewhat curious about your prowess in the Pankration ring.”

Wriothesley half-smiled, the lop-sided grin Neuvillette had become so fond of translated into one corner of the mouth tweaking up through exhaustion. “I bet we could arrange something for you. There aren’t any proper matches scheduled today, but… I could stand to blow off a little steam.”

A crowd started to gather as the three of them headed to the gym. Wriothesley spoke with a man standing near the back of the room, and soon, three large Clockwork Meka soldiers were marched in.

“This is a new prototype we’ve been testing for the Research Institute,” Wriothesley explained while he adjusted his gauntlets. “They haven’t been stress tested yet.”

“Your Grace. Have you been stress-tested recently?” Sigewinne said pointedly.

“… Don’t worry. I got this. Besides, you know the rules with Meka. If they’re so strong that no one can take them down, that’s also a problem…”

The bell rang. Wriothesley rolled his shoulders as the Meka advanced. Waiting.

“I’ll give you the first shot,” he called to the closest automaton, which of course had no ears to hear him.

The match was over quickly. Neuvillette realized he had never seen Wriothesley fight before. How strange, that Wriothesley could be a Catalyst user, the same as him, and fight in such a different way. The strikes that brought down the Meka were blows from Wriothesley’s fists. The bursts of ice that washed across the stage, stripping gears away from the Meka with every punch, almost seemed an afterthought, when Wriothesley knocked the last one to scrap metal with an uppercut that sent it flying up to the ceiling.

The audience erupted into applause and raucous cheers.

It did something to Neuvillette, seeing this match. Seeing those broad shoulders tense and flex, the way Wriothesley moved, the way he grinned with a threat that showed all of his teeth. Neuvillette wondered what it would be like, to be the one down there with him. To have that violent attention turned towards him, and only him, and be the only thing in Wriothesley’s view.

“That should definitely have been harder,” Wriothesley was telling the man in the lab coat standing at the side of the ring. “Reinforce the skeletons around the hips. And…”

The crowd on the bleachers hollered and cheered loud enough to block out the rest of Wriothesley’s advice to the scientist. When Neuvillette followed Wriothesley into his quarters, however, he was still short of breath.

“Sigewinne… might have had a point about keeping up with my exercise,” he admitted.

“You are so weakened just by sitting down more than usual?”

“Oh, no,” Wriothesley said, “That’s not it. I… hadn’t slept at all between the last two times I saw you.”

“… You did not sleep… between our date… and my visit yesterday.”

Four days?

“Nope. Didn’t want to think about what kind of dreams I’d have. So I drank a lot of tea, and I took a cold shower every time my eyes started to droop. At one point I was tempted to drink, so I opened my bottle of emergency whiskey and poured all of it into the toilet.”

“Wriothesley…”

He shrugged. “I slept yesterday. You saw. And I will today too.”

How could he be so lighthearted about being unable to sleep for four days? If he were not a Vision Holder, going that long without rest could have killed him.

“I’d better take a shower, though. Fighting like that got me pretty sweaty. Perhaps… you could join me?”

Neuvillette frowned. “This is another distraction tactic.”

Wriothesley’s smile faltered. “Is it working?” he asked.

Neuvillette did relent and climb into Wriothesley’s bathtub with him, but he did not allow Wriothesley’s half-hearted teasing to goad him into much more than the occasional kiss. Wriothesley’s mouth against his, the hints of his teeth, the little presses of his tongue, had him more than interested, but he clenched his legs together and did everything he could to prevent his cocks from sliding out, not matter how swollen with desire they became, no matter how thick the lubricant dripped down his thighs.

“I would see you well again before I tire you out,” Neuvillette said, determined, despite how flushed his face was, and how much he was panting. “You are sleep-deprived and physically drained. And you have no ability to restrain yourself when we engage in intercourse. Even when I am careful, you find some way to render yourself unable to walk steadily…”

There was something that still worried him, too, in how Wriothesley’s advances were much tamer than usual. He could not tell if it meant Wriothesley did not want to go to bed as much as he normally would, or if he was simply too tired for his usual enthusiasm.

“I’ll be good?” Wriothesley tried.

“It would be good for you to sleep for at least ten hours uninterrupted.” Neuvillette picked him up out of the bath and set him on the counter to towel him off. Standing over him like this, he was painfully aware of Wriothesley’s stiffening cock, even before Wriothesley parted his knees and shifted closer.

“What about tomorrow, after the meeting? We’ll have half the day to ourselves…” Wriothesley wiggled out of the towel and draped his arms around Neuvillette’s neck, bringing his lips close to his ear. “Plenty of time for you to tire me out, and for me to sleep after… you always try so hard to take care of me.”

The thought was tempting. Did Wriothesley… want to be taken care of?

“Tomorrow… we will see how you feel in the morning, and after the meeting,” Neuvillette said. “For now… perhapsss… just something to help you sleep.”

Wriothesley smiled into Neuvillette’s cheek, knowing he was getting his way. Neuvillette picked him up again and carried him to bed. He set him down and started trying to pull the pillows and blankets around him to make him comfortable, but Wriothesley was impatient, pulling him into kisses, playing with his damp hair. Neuvillette gave up trying to fluff the pillows around Wriothesley in favor of crawling over him, kissing across his face, tracing the edges of scars with feather-light touches from the claws he had not had time to file down.

The lines that countless fights had carved into Wriothesley felt different, tonight. Neuvillette could not cast aside the thought that each scar deserved attention. He needed Wriothesley to know he saw every detail. That he saw it all and that he valued him for all of it.

Kisses slid downward, until Neuvillette was sucking on Wriothesley’s throat, was lapping at a nipple, was skimming sharp teeth over Wriothesley’s belly. His hands moved down to squeeze and massage Wriothesley’s thighs, and finally Neuvillette brought his face down to Wriothesley’s cock.

He pressed his lips softly to the head, watching how Wriothesley gasped at the sensation.

“Remember,” Neuvillette said. “My teeth are ssssssharp. Stay sssssstill.”

“You spoil me, Monsieur,” Wriothesley sighed. “If you insist. Is this what you’d like, too? I have hardly been a gracious host this week… I could return the favor.”

“No,” Neuvillette breathed, “I am ssssaving everything I have for tomorrow.”

Wriothesley moaned at this promise, and then moaned much louder when Neuvillette dragged his long tongue up the length of him. He mapped out every inch of it with the forked ends of his tongue, loving the taste of him, the way he grabbed at the sheets to make himself stay still. Neuvillette grabbed his hips, squeezing just enough that his claws dug into his skin but did not pierce, and braced his elbows against Wriothesley’s spread thighs to hold him down further. Satisfied that Wriothesley was secure, Neuvillette began the careful process of swallowing him down.

The sound Wriothesley made when Neuvillette took him in his throat was beautiful. Neuvillette had to go slow, letting his tongue stay wrapped around Wriothesley’s shaft once, twice, three times to protect him from his fangs. He dragged the coils of his tongue up and down the twitching cock, giving him more stimulation than the gradual process of taking him deeper. He could feel Wriothesley’s thighs tensing with the effort not to thrust up into him.

Neuvillette reveled in the salt that filled his mouth. Fresh from the bath, he knew it could not be sweat, but only the precome dripping steadily onto his tongue.

When Neuvillette’s lips finally kissed the skin at the base of Wriothesley’s cock, he stopped there to look at him. Wriothesley was something from a dream, a dark blush spreading down his body, muscles taut from the fight to keep still. He was a fighter, he was strong. Neuvillette could feel how strong, with how much power it took to hold him down.

But the look Wriothesley gave him when their eyes met was so weak. Neuvillette was seized with the urge to take care of him. He could not speak to reassure him, with his mouth so full, so he settled for holding his gaze and rubbing circles into his hips with his thumbs. The tip of his tongue snaked out from past his lips to lap at Wriothesley’s balls.

Wriothesley shuddered, his back arching off the bed, though his lower body stayed put under Neuvillette’s weight. Holding all of his cock in his mouth, Neuvillette sucked, squeezing with his tongue at the same time.

He started to move. He could not lick so precisely while he moved his head, but he could squeeze while he pulled his head up, and lap hungrily at Wriothesley while he sunk back down. The same comfort settled over Neuvillette as it did when he wrapped his tail around Wriothesley’s waist or constricted him in his draconic body’s coils.

Wriothesley was his, wrapped up in him like this. Neuvillette had him, safe, held fast in his grip. He moaned, the noise vibrating in the back of his throat and around Wriothesley, ripping a harsh cry from him.

Neuvillette moved his head faster. He needed to to hear him. Needed to feel that twitching, throbbing cock push into his throat, to feel its heat, to taste him, to hold him. At some point, Neuvillette’s own cocks had slid out, and he was faintly aware of the rough friction of them sliding against the sheets, but it barely registered. He had Wriothesley and he was going to give him everything he could. And tomorrow, he would give him the full clutch of eggs he was saving for him.

“Neuvillette,” Wriothesley begged, “Neuvillette, please– I’m so– ”

Neuvillette hummed in question, loud as possible to make him cry out again.

“Fuck! Neuvillette– ”

Wriothesley reached for him. Understanding, Neuvillette released his hips and grabbed his hands instead.

Wriothesley came with a ragged howl of a moan that rang in Neuvillette’s ears. Neuvillette moaned in bliss as he swallowed down mouthful after mouthful of him, tugging at him with his tongue and working his throat hard as he could. Wriothesley was buried so deep in him that Neuvillette hardly tasted him, only feeling the hot release slide down his throat and settle in his stomach.

The Duke himself was breathtaking, head falling back as his back arched, unshed tears glimmering in his eyes. Neuvillette watched him in rapture while he worked every last drop out of him, until Wriothesley fell against the pillows and the crushing grip on his hands fell slack.

Neuvillette uncurled his tongue from around him. It hurt when he moved it some ways, like he’d managed to bruise it. His jaw clicked when he tested it. Perhaps Neuvillette was the one who had overdone things this time.

But it was worth it. Wriothesley’s hair was a dark halo against the pillows, and he looked so content, looking Neuvillette over while he caught his breath.

“Thanks,” he said, “I think… I needed that.”

“As you said,” Neuvillette said, “I try… to take care of you.”

He sat up and eased his aching cocks back up into his vent.

“You can do that?” Wriothesley asked, with more yawn than actual words.

Neuvillette groaned. “Not… easy. It is… sore. But it will go down fasssster this way. And it is time for bed.”

He bundled Wriothesley up into his softest-looking pajamas and all but swaddled him in his own blankets when he tucked them in to sleep. Neuvillette held him close again, in his arms and his tail, keeping him warm, making sure he wouldn’t go anywhere.

He couldn’t shake the thought that he needed to protect him.

With Barbatos out of Liyue Harbor, Ajax was free to enjoy his honeymoon phase with Zhongli in scale-swapped bliss once again. He still had work; there were collections to make, other things at the bank to oversee, but he spent every night wrapped up in Zhongli’s arms or in his coils, his cheek pressed against Zhongli’s chest, or his one orange scale. Zhongli was more willing to spar with him these days, too, and while Ajax had yet to win, he could feel himself improving. Maybe one day, he really would win one of their duels. Ajax thought long and hard when he was alone about what he’d ask Zhongli to do that day.

(With how serious he was about every ritual, Ajax wasn’t sure if Zhongli would let him top without him winning a match.)

It was a quiet evening in, sitting close and discussing war history, when Zhongli’s voice trailed off as he turned towards the window.

“Someone is in my territory,” he said.

“Territory?” Ajax said, frowning. Zhongli had given up his gnosis, so technically, Liyue didn’t belong to him anymore. “How can you tell?”

Zhongli frowned, distracted. Scales rose up around his eyes. A forked tongue flickered out as the golden antlers Ajax was used to seeing in Zhongli’s dragon form sprouted from his head.

“I feel it as well as you would feel a tremor on the ground. This energy… ah. Anemo.”

His face returned to normal, though he still looked displeased. “It appears Barbatos has returned with his mate. I would recommend staying home while I go to see them, as this will be troublesome.”

“Stormterror Dvalin is right outside the city? And you can tell?”

Maybe he wanted to fight?

“I see the look in your eyes,” Zhongli tutted. “He is coming too slowly for this to be a declaration of war. He is walking. Perhaps we should wait here to avoid whatever scene will be caused otherwise.”

Zhongli started to tidy up the already spotless house.

“It is not often a dragon welcomes another into their den,” he began to lecture, “But for an old ally and his mate, one makes exceptions… in the old days, not even my closest vassals would attend to me in my chambers. Even family may be excluded, once a dragon reaches a certain age.”

“But you’re letting that guy in here a second time?”

There was a knock at the door. Zhongli opened it.

“Is there some serious trouble in Monstadt?” he asked Venti and the hulking, blue-haired man standing behind him. “Otherwise, I cannot imagine why you would be at my home.”

“There’s serious trouble here!” Venti huffed.

The stranger with the seven-foot frame and the slit-pupil eyes ruffled Venti’s hair with a clawed hand.

“We are here for your bachelor party,” he explained to Zhongli. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. However, I am no longer a bachelor, so you are a bit late. Good evening.”

Zhongli began to close the door.

“I have bottle that was produced by the Dawn Winery in its first year.”

Zhongli opened the door again.

“Ajax, this is Venti’s mate, Dvalin,” he said, smiling. “Dvalin, this is Ajax. My mate.”

“You’re letting them in for booze?” Ajax said.

“You had first-year vintage left over and didn’t tell me?” Venti exclaimed at the same time.

Zhongli ushered the two Monstadters in and closed the door.

“They brought a congratulatory gift, Ajax. This may be the only chance I have to share this with you. Most of the Dawn Winery’s older vintages were smashed in a raid five hundred years ago; this is a priceless gift that money cannot buy.”

Ajax frowned. “Money can buy a lot of things.”

“Even the Dawn Winery doesn’t have first-year anymore,” Venti said, eyeing the bottle with wide eyes. “Whatever Dvalin has might be all that’s left. Anyway! You’d deprive your mate of his bachelor party? You’re so jealous that he can’t even have friends?”

Ajax crossed his arms. “This isn’t a bachelor party, you’re dropping in unannounced. You didn’t even kidnap him.”

“That is a custom in Scheznaya only,” Zhongli said. “Bachelor parties in Liyue are less dramatic in custom. I can at least spend the evening with these two before sending them back. It has been some time since…”

With his head turned towards Ajax, Zhongli could not see the excited grins spreading across Venti and Dvalin’s faces, or the look they gave each other.

“No, he has a point. Your mate is Scheznayan,” Venti said sniffed. “Better be culturally sensitive!”

Dvalin hauled Zhongli up in one arm and over his shoulder. Zhongli pushed at him, but kept glancing to the many expensive and breakable items in the house, which would be smashed if a real fight broke out.

Venti ran out ahead of the two struggling dragons and down the street.

“I’m coming with you,” Ajax announced, hopping into his boots. “Just in case a fight breaks out, you know.”

“Ajax. Not you too,” Zhongli groaned.

“We found an abandoned palace near Cuijue Slope. There is more wine there,” Dvalin explained. He started down the street, carrying Zhongli, at a brisk place. “Rex, you are so light.”

“Unhand me,” Zhongli said firmly.

Dvalin snorted. A breeze ruffled his hair. “No. You will run away.”

The ‘abandoned palace’ turned out to be a ruin that Ajax definitely remembered being sealed off by magic the last time he came this way.

“How did you open this place?” Zhongli asked their… ‘guests.’

Venti laughed. “Oh, we didn’t. The Traveler did! He told us about it awhile ago. Fought a whoooole bunch of monsters, cleared out all the treasure.”

“I see the Stones of Remembrance have been returned to the Pillars as well,” Zhongli hummed. “The Traveler certainly has been busy everywhere he goes...”

Inside the ruin, a spread of food and wine was waiting a long table under flickering torchlight. It was a lot of food, almost as if a crowd of guests were about to appear out of nowhere. However, no one else was here, and it became apparent quickly that Venti would drink all of the wine on his own if the other three did not start drinking first.

“To Morax and his mate!” Dvalin called, raising a his flagon to knock it against the others’.

“And to you,” Zhongli sighed, still resigned to be here. “It is good to see you so well.”

Venti gulped down the entire flagon and slammed it onto the table. “To Morax and this guy. More please!”

Dvalin had to open a second and third bottle of wine rather quickly.

“I have never seen you hold a human form this long,” Zhongli told him.

“Yes. I have been practicing!” Dvalin grinned. His teeth were all sharp.

“You forgot the incisors again,” Venti giggled. “It’s okay though. Wayyyy hotter like this. It’s okay if you’re no good at shape shifting...”

There was a flash of blue tail, and Venti’s chair was yanked out from under him. He righted himself, laughing.

“This guy’s all right,” Ajax decided. He seemed to have the slightest amount of sway over the annoying little wind sprite.

He reached to serve himself another slice of roast boar. Dvalin craned his neck to look at Ajax’s pauldron as the motion pulled it into view.

“You wear him as armor… that suits him,” he decided. “To think little Morax would finally take a mate…”

“Little?” Ajax cocked his head to the side. “Are you older than him?”

Zhongli frowned. “He is not. I am the oldest of the Sovereigns that reincarnated. Dvalin is an old friend, and therefore teasing. Many dragons never take a mate, even those who have many offspring– ”

“Mooooraaax,” Venti giggled, half-draped over Dvalin. “Does he not know?”

“I have asked you repeatedly to call me Zhongli.”

Ajax frowned. “Xiansheng. What don’t I know?”

What big secret was he keeping from him this time?

“It seems he does not know,” Dvalin said with a chuckle.

“What don’t I know?” Ajax said again.

“It is nothing of consequence,” Zhongli insisted.

Dvalin stood up. “I will just show him.”

His clothes exploded as the wild mountain man became the dragon Ajax had seen pictures of in classified reports. Dvalin was massive, on a scale that far surpassed anything Ajax had seen in the unforgiving wilderness in Schneznaya. He was bigger than every creature Ajax had seen outside of the Abyss, save for Osial.

“This is not the great joke you think it is,” Zhongli tried to say, but Venti was already standing on the table.

“Hem-hem.” Venti wavered where he stood, unmistakably drunk. “So see here… dragons grow the whole time they’re alive. You saw… you saw how big Osial is. He also ate a lot of ships and stuff. Anyway.”

He gestured, in a mockery of a teacher showing his class a diagram in a lecture, to Dvalin. “Dvalin… Dvalin is less’n half Zhongli’s age.”

“So he’s… what, big?” Ajax said.

“Nope! He’s only a li’l bigger than normal for three thousand. Okay. Think now.”

Venti grinned, gestured to Dvalin again. Dvalin stretched his wings out, preening.

“Now. How big is Zhongli?”

Ajax looked at Zhongli, then at Dvalin. He was intimately familiar with the size Zhongli was in his dragon form.

“… Not this big.”

“Barbatos,” Zhongli warned, but Venti kept talking.

“He didn’t stop growing or anything. He’s just. You know. Short. His human form looks like this…”

More pointing.

“All tall and hunky. But in his real body, he’s more like the kind of guy I would grant a vision to.”

Venti cracked up and laughed so hard he fell off the table. Dvalin picked him up by the cape in his beak and put him gently back onto his chair.

“Xiansheng… the god of all anemo twinks just called you an anemo twink,” Ajax said faintly. He was reeling, and he wasn’t sure if it was the liquor or the change in perspective.

Zhongli hissed in warning. “I am not an anemo twink.”

“He’s a Geo twink!” Venti crowed.

Zhongli growled and lunged across the table, changing into his dragon form as he sailed through the air. Venti squeaked and leapt into the air, suddenly propelled by a large pair of white wings with large gold rings in the joints.

This, of course, showed a very direct comparison between Zhongli’s size and Dvalin’s size. When Ajax looked rapidly between the two, trying to make sense of it all, Dvalin roared with laughter that echoed across the ruined palace, loud enough to make Ajax’s ears ring.

The retired God of Contracts chased the forgotten God of Freedom around the ceiling until they both got too tired to fly. They slumped on the ground roughly where their seats had been. Venti rolled onto his back so Dvalin could pour wine directly into his mouth.

“In addition… I am actually… quite burly for a wind sprite,” Venti giggled.

Zhongli growled again, but there was no fight left in him. Ajax patted his head soothingly.

“You’re plenty big where it counts,” he said.

Dvalin looked up from pulling Venti back into his chair. “He is?”

“He is,” Venti confirmed.

Ajax decided he would worry how Lord Barbatos knew about Zhongli’s dick in the morning when he was sober, because starting a fight now would only result in Dvalin laying him flat, or Zhongli putting him in an incredibly unsexy time-out in a cage of Geo energy.

“Thisssss is childissssh,” Zhongli groaned.

Ajax gestured with his hands to mime the approximate length and girth of Zhongli’s dicks when he was in dragon form. Dvalin reared back in a gestured that felt reminiscent to raising his eyebrows and chirped, apparently impressed.

“Right? … Pretty good… for a guy who’s smaller than a battleship.” Venti clunked his head on the table and hugged an unopened bottle of wine like a pillow.

“… Your scale,” Dvalin said softly. He waved his tail at Zhongli’s neck, near the one scale that had been made from Ajax’s blood and hair and thumbnail. “Is that…”

“Yeah, that’s mine,” Ajax said, puffing up his chest. “He did some magic. See, Xiansheng? Told you it would be important. They know you’re off the market! Even if these two are mates.”

Dvalin’s head swiveled sideways, like a hawk’s would. “Barbatos and I are not exclusive.”

“Can’t tie down the wind,” Venti mumbled sleepily.

“This is not normal,” Zhongli informed Ajax, when he looked stupefied. “There are cases where mated dragons take others in for reproduction. But the way my old friend here attempted to make his way across the entire draconic population of Tevyat…”

“I didn’t go for the girls,” Venti protested. “And plenty of them said no. Scylla wouldn’t even talk to me.”

“Scylla,” Ajax pressed. “Who is that.”

Zhongli curled his tail around Ajax’s middle, pulling him closer. “The late Hydro Dragon. He died in battle when Fontaine was still called Remuria.”

“I was a young and thirsty thing,” Venti added. “He sent a whole army of Vishaps to chase me out!”

“You missed out...” Dvalin said.

“What? Oh, come on, that’s not fair– ”

“… Apep told me he was formidable.” Dvalin finished, with a hooting little laugh. “Scylla was not my type.”

“Apep?” Ajax asked, poking Zhongli in the side.

“Stop telling the Fatui Harbinger all your dragon secrets,” Venti whined. “No one… knows what he’s planning.”

“… The people forgot Apep?” Dvalin said. “But he…”

“The world turns and forgets many things,” Zhongli said. “And so… many things are lost.”

“Who is Apep,” Ajax repeated, but he yawned.

The wine was getting to him. He closed his eyes and was out like a light.

He woke up, some hours later, curled up in Zhongli’s tail. Barbatos was snoring loudly, tucked somewhere under one of Dvalin’s wings.

Zhongli and Dvalin were still drinking. Most of the food was gone too. Ajax realized there had been so much on the table not for a crowd, but merely to accommodate the appetite of two dragons.

“… frozen in the Tsaritsa’s back garden,” Zhongli was saying quietly. “I do not know what her plans are. By the description, it seems she is less than two hundred years old.”

“Vyuga… I see,” Dvalin murmured. “What of the old man?”

“Alatus is chased out of Sumeru if he gets too close to the Hadramaveth Desert.” Zhongli hinted. “But I believe he is still weakened by the Abyss.”

The ‘old man’ must be the Dragon Sovereign of Verdure, if he was in Sumeru. Ajax closed his eyes again and made sure to keep his breathing slow, so it would seem he was still asleep.

“And the rest?” said Dvalin.

“I am unsure,” Zhongli said. “I have not left Liyue since the Cataclysm. And I heave heard nothing from Inazuma since Arashi-no-Mikoto was slain. Even her children are long gone.”

He cleared his throat. “Did you sleep well, Ajax?”

“I’m still asleep. And still drunk. Tell the Fatui Harbinger your dragon secrets,” Ajax yawned.

“Ajax…” Zhongli pressed his snout to Ajax’s forehead. “I am sworn by contract to protect the other Sovereigns. I cannot reveal them to a human, or anyone who is not another dragon. This contract was necessary to facilitate my birth. I am bound.”

“You are retired,” Ajax grumbled. “But you’re still working.”

“Rex Lapis has retired. I will always be the Geo Sovereign. It is not a title that can be passed on.”

“But… I’m your mate. An extension of you. Right?”

“Would you be able to keep what I told you from Her Majesty?”

“… Well. Can’t blame a man for trying.” Ajax rolled over and hid his face in Zhongli’s scales.

“Your mate is very clever,” Dvalin decided. “I like him.”

Wriothesley and Neuvillette both had other work in the morning before the task force meeting. Neuvillette shook Wriothesley awake before he left early once again, then headed up to make a seven o’clock breakfast meeting at the Palais Mermonia.

“Dreadful weather we’re having,” Furina said when Neuvillette sat down beside her. Their guests had not arrived yet. “Trouble in paradise, dear Iudex?”

“The issue is not between me and His Grace,” Neuvillette said. “I am only…”

He trailed off.

Furina groaned and flopped back in her chair. “I’ve known you long enough to read your itty-bitty changes in expression! If you’re worried about your boyfriend, you can just say so.”

“Worried,” Neuvillette repeated. “Yes. That is what it is.”

It sounded right, anyway. It felt different from when he worried about one of the Melusines, or about a trial.

“He has been… under the weather,” Neuvillette admitted.

Furina shrugged. “Cheer up then!”

“That is not as funny as you think.”

“I will decide when I am funny,” Furina proclaimed. “Now. If things are so bad… I suppose he may have the slice of cake I reserved for today. His Grace is fond of teas, isn’t he? A strong black tea or a green tea with nuttier notes would pair well with the marzipan.”

Furina referred, of course, to her favorite dessert, the marzipan-topped, whip-cream-filled cake that the Hotel Debord only made sixteen slices of every day.

“I only reserved one, so you and His Grace will have to share,” she said, with a put-upon sigh.

“I will take your tea pairing into consideration,” Neuvillette said. “And… thank you. I am sure His Grace will appreciate the gesture.”

Neuvillette still did not understand what made for a good tea, let alone how to locate a ‘green tea with nuttier notes,’ but when he asked the Chief Steward where the Palais sourced the tea it poured for important guests, the man fell over himself with suggestions. Neuvillette recalled that he rarely asked the Chief Steward for his opinion on anything. In matters to do with his work, after all, he and his predecessors had always had excellent taste in everything, and Neuvillette and Furina had simply trusted his judgement.

And so Neuvillette appeared at the entrance to Meropide with a gift box in his arms. Clorinde, arriving at the same time, raised her eyebrows at the box, but did not say anything as they entered the elevator together.

Clorinde’s eyes bored into Neuvillette.

He stared her down in turn. “Speak your mind, Champion Duelist. We are alone here.”

“Is this a thank-you, an apology, or a public display?” she asked, gesturing to the box.

“A public display?” Neuvillette said, “What do you mean by that?”

Clorinde shrugged. “His Grace was happily telling me not too long ago that you are possessive with him. Being seen bringing gifts down into his domain could be a ploy to remind the people who he ‘belongs to,’ especially if someone from the paparazzi managed to snap a photograph.”

“The two of you… are friends,” Neuvillette remembered.

“Enough that he can brag about his jealous boyfriend, yes,” said Clorinde.

She used the same neutral, respectful tone of voice as she did when receiving orders or discussing business, so this line came just shy of overstepping her rank.

Neuvillette supposed it fit Wriothesley to keep friends who pushed at boundaries the same way he did.

“I suppose you may pick up on it when we get to our meeting, then. His Grace has been troubled by something. I will not explain further, for the sake of his privacy. I merely hope this small gift will lift his spirits.”

Clorinde looked at the box, then to Neuvillette’s face. “Good. It’s about time someone took care of him.”

They fell into silence. Clorinde glanced to the meter by the elevator door showing their depth. They were not even halfway down into the Fortress.

“So,” Neuvillette said, looking stubbornly ahead, “His Grace… brags about me?”

Clorinde, likewise, fixed her gaze upon the door rather than look at him. “Many of the things he says are not polite to report to a superior officer.”

Neuvillette felt heat flush across his face. “But he mentioned I am jealous? What else?”

“Monsieur Neuvillette. Respectfully, I cannot have this conversation with you while sober.”

“I see.” Neuvillette faltered.

He knew that it made people uncomfortable to discuss personal matters with an employer. The gestionnaires and lesser justices were always loathe to talk about themselves with him. But he now had a question he could not ask Sigewinne if he wanted an accurate answer.

“Is boasting about one’s partner an important part of human courtship? Should I do this as well?”

Clorinde closed her eyes and took a deep breath before answering. “As it is what one might call… informal behavior, I do not think anyone will expect this of you. In fact, hearing one’s superior officer gush about his new lover would be… troubling.”

“Ah. I see.”

Silence fell again.

“… So I should be boasting to Lady Furina?” That was the only person outside of the Melusines who Neuvillette spoke informally with.

“How do you think Lady Furina will react to that, based on her general reactions to knowing that you have a boyfriend at all?”

Neuvillette thought about this. “She would throw a fit.”

“Exactly.”

“… But His Grace does brag about me?”

“Monsieur Neuvillette. Please stop,” Clorinde begged.

They arrived at the same time for the meeting. As much as Neuvillette would have liked to arrive earliest to speak with Wriothesley before the debriefing, in practice, the meeting started whenever Neuvillette arrived, as he and Clorinde were the only ones who did not live in the Fortress of Meropide and Clorinde’s schedule was significantly less busy than Neuvillette’s.

At least Wriothesley looked better rested today than he had yesterday. He got up to pull out a chair for Neuvillette and poured tea for everyone before the meeting could begin.

“The first order of business,” he said, “Is to inform you all that the hull of the Wingalet has been fully constructed and tested for watertightness. After this meeting, the engines will be lowered into the frame, in preparation for attaching them and beginning the next round of checks. The manufacturing of the other parts of the frame is nearly complete.”

Jurieu nodded. “The wheelhouse will be installed next. With our current progress rate, we estimate that the boat will be usable in an emergency by the next time we hold this meeting, even if that would mean piling everyone at the bottom of the hull like potatoes.”

“Potatoes. Really?” Lourvine gave Jurieu a dirty look before she continued the report. “However, the deck plates are all finished, so their installation should be a quick job for the construction team.”

“This is good news,” said Clorinde. “You’re coming along faster than we originally thought.”

“We can only hope it’ll be fast enough,” Wriothesley said. “But who knows? Based on the figures in these reports, we could very well be smashing a bottle of sparkling white wine over the hull in less than three months.”

“We should begin taking in furniture, air filters, food supplies, and other things to outfit the ship soon, so the increase in shipments doesn’t seem suspicious,” said Sigewinne.

Enough beds, tables, and chairs for everyone in the Fortress of Meropide would not be a small amount of supplies, nor would it cost a small amount of funds.

“The acquisition requests will be filed with the excuse of water damage,” Wriothesley said. “It does get damp down here. Food goes bad and wood rots when we can’t keep the air dry.”

Neuvillette took the proposal that had been placed in front of him and signed it. “Very well. Proceed with your request forms the usual way, then. I will sign off on any request that the gestionnaires contest.”

Lourvine hesitated. “Aren’t you worried that they’ll think you’re just giving His Grace preferential treatment, due to the… new nature of your relationship?”

“As opposed to the baseless accusations that I am giving Nurse Sigewinne preferential treatment?” Neuvillette asked her.

The Institute researcher winced. “Sorry, Monsieur Neuvillette. It’s just that the papers say people are talking that His Grace is taking advantage of your position?”

“Which papers?” Wriothesley snapped, “I’ll do an interview and tell them exactly what position I’m taking advantage of.”

Lourvine yelped, and Jurieu looked horrified, but Sigewinne started giggling and Clorinde only rolled her eyes.

“Please do not do that,” Neuvillette said, sounding more like the air being let out of an untied balloon than he would have liked.

“Why not?” said Wriothesley through his teeth. “Everyone’s curious. I’ll tell them exactly what we’re up to. If a little extra bedframes and sacks of flour under the table for your beau will distract from this project getting found out and causing a panic– ”

Neuvillette grabbed his hand to cut him off. “Wriothesley. Neither of us can afford to seem like our objectivity is compromised. Not while we are still a popular topic of speculation. And I do not wish to harm your reputation either way.”

Wriothesley sagged into his touch.

“Reputations can change in the Court of Fontaine in an instant,” he muttered. “But you’re right. You three can stop staring, but the way.”

Lourvine and Jurieu looked away. Clorinde crossed her arms.

“Sorry, Your Grace. It’s just nice to see someone can calm you down that fast. Sigewinne, I think our post-briefing drink is going to be a girls’ night this month.”

The quip broke the tension as Sigewinne started laughing again, and the meeting continued as other parts of their mission were discussed. There was a lot to cover, and it was nearly dinnertime when Sigewinne ushered Lourvine and Jurieu out.

Clorinde lingered in the doorway. “Something happened,” she said to Wriothesley. “You’re never this on edge.”

“… Something did,” Wriothesley admitted. “It’s nothing to do with the Wingalet or the Primordial Sea.”

Clorinde frowned. “You know you can talk to me. Even though we don’t usually discuss anything heavy outside of work. Right?”

Wriothesley poured himself another cup of tea. “Of course I do. After all, I’ve been telling you to go and talk to Demoiselle Navia for– ”

“Wriothesley, not in front of Monsieur Neuvillette.”

Wriothesley snorted. “You know? Fair enough.”

Ah, of course. Navia di Rosula had been chasing down Neuvillette regularly to berate him for how her father’s case was handled. It made sense that she would do the same to the Champion Duelist that had actually killed her father.

“So what happened?” said Clorinde.

Wriothesley took a very long time with his next sip of tea. “I’m trying to put it behind me. The problem might go away on its own.”

“Bullshit.”

Neuvillette startled to hear the Champion Duelist use such coarse language.

Wriothesley sighed. “Clorinde, I’m tired. How about this: if it happens again, then I’ll tell both of you about it.”

Clorinde looked to Neuvillette, that same searching look she’d been giving him lately boring into his face.

“I’ll accept that,” she said.

Wriothesley smiled for her. “Good. Go have your girls’ night. Maybe next month, we’ll both join you.”

“Hmm.” Clorinde narrowed her eyes. “Yes, we should all sit down and chat one of these days.”

Wriothesley frowned. “Has anyone told you that you are a bit overprotective? Other than Demoiselle Navia, I mean.”

“Good evening, Your Grace, I’ll leave you and Monsieur Neuvillette be,” Clorinde said, before she walked briskly out of the room.

“… I deserved that,” Wriothesley decided. “So. What’s in the box?”

“A slice of cake and some tea leaves to try with it,” Neuvillette told him, starting to stand. “I thought we might share them after dinner.”

Wriothesley fetched two trays from the Cafeteria for them to eat in his quarters: far too many servings of barbecue ribs in one hand, and an appetizing bowl of Fontainian onion soup in the other.

“So what tea is it?” he asked, glancing over to the box. “Monsieur Neuvillette’s recommendation… it’s not just ‘whatever will keep you awake,’ is it?”

“It is a tin of full-leaf Marquis Savoreaux,” Neuvillette said. “I hope that meets your standards?”

Wriothesley blinked. “Monsieur. You are already dating me. You don’t need to seduce me further.”

“It is that prized?” Neuvillette asked. “I merely went looking for a ‘strong black tea’ that would go well with dessert.”

He felt Wriothesley kick him gently under the table. “Let’s just say that for me, it would be a splurge. I think I bought some with my first paycheck as Administrator.”

“Your interest in tea goes back so far? I assumed you would not have had access to it while you were serving your sentence.”

“Oh.” Wriothesley’s face started to fall again. “Well. It was part of my education before. I’d wanted to try it for awhile.”

His ‘education’, meaning being groomed as a product to be sold. Neuvillette’s heart sank. He hadn’t meant to bring up more painful memories.

“Wriothesley, I– ”

“No, it’s fine. I can talk about it.” Wriothesley tore another harsh bite of his dinner into his mouth. “I went to school and had tutors. And I learned the things a noble would expect a high-class pet to know. Literature, music appreciation, tea, dance. They told me it would be so I wouldn’t be disadvantaged when I grew up.”

“Dance?” Neuvillette asked. “I seem to recall that at your own title-reception party, you told anyone who asked that you did not know how.”

“I didn’t want to be bothered with it. It’d been too long since I practiced and I don’t like society events.” Wriothesley said.

“… I see. I am sure you could pick it back up quickly if you wished, but I am, likewise, not fond of social dancing. At events I must attend, I dance once with Lady Furina, and other people have seldom asked.”

“Monsieur…” Wriothesley leaned forwards. Once again, he kicked Neuvillette under the table, but it was not so much a playful jab as a slow stroke of boot against his calf. “Were you hoping to dance with me?”

“Who knows,” Neuvillette said. “Clorinde mentioned you have been bragging about me to her. Perhaps I would also like to show off.”

“Is this how dragons court?” Wriothesley teased. “Displaying their mate for the others to see?”

Neuvillette felt his cheeks grow hot. “M– yes, when a dragon takes a mate, it seems to be part of the practice to flaunt it. But that is– not what you seem to think it is. A mate is something like a spouse, and with how territorial dragons are, I understand many never take one so they do not have to share their territory or their treasure. I would not ever assume – ”

He was rambling. He had not read the brief section in his book about courtship very many times. He had assumed he would never need them, in practice, especially with his suspicions about what Zhongli, the only other dragon Neuvillette knew, had meant when he had described himself as ‘happily compromised.’

Wriothesley, for his part, was grinning again, to see Neuvillette so flustered. He reached across the table and took his hand, petting Neuvillette’s knuckles with his thumb. His foot was running up and down Neuvillette’s leg again. Why was he doing that? It was very distracting.

“How do they show it off?” he said in a low voice.

“They. Exchange scales,” Neuvillette said. “The scales stay and regrow even when the skin is shed. As even in dragons of the same elemental alignment, the colors vary greatly, this is usually a clear sign that they are mated. There was. Something about being part of each other that I do not recall in great detail.”

“A little early to talk about this, I take it,” Wriothesley said, “It’s only been one month… and you haven’t even met my parents.”

The joke came such a shock that Neuvillette sputtered, and the warmth in the air between them seemed to freeze over.

“… That was funnier in my head.”

“If you are feeling well enough to joke about it, I understand that is a good thing,” Neuvillette said.

“Wow. You look ill. Really, I’m sorry.” Wriothesley patted his hand. “How do dragons… court, then? That’s more like regular dating?”

“Ah. Yes.” Neuvillette took a deep breath. “The first stages of expressing interest would be giving gifts. Food, usually, at first, I think. Then more valuable offerings that could be added to the dragon’s collection of treasures.”

“Oh, we’ve done that part already,” Wriothesley noted.

Neuvillette felt himself smile. “Yes. The thought did occur to me. We are already together, though, even if you approached me… in a different order.”

“Yeah, I put your dicks in my hands without so much as catching a fish for you.”

Heat pulsed between Neuvillette’s legs. He could feel his vent growing slicker, in preparation for his cocks to slide out. “I… have lived among humans a very long time. I am aware of the general gestures of romance. It is not as if all of these customs are… instinctual, either.”

“What comes after gifts?” Wriothesley asked.

“Oh, the gifts continue throughout the relationship, same as they would for a human,” Neuvillette said. “Let me try and remember… ah. I suppose, if you were a dragon, after gifts, and time spent together, we would have had a courtship duel.”

Wriothesley perked up. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you fight.”.

“I had not seen you fight, either, until earlier this week,” Neuvillette pointed out.

Wriothesley’s foot was moving again. The edge of the boot traced up Neuvillette’s thigh. “Did it make you think about... dueling?”

Neuvillette fidgeted. “It… did occur to me, yes.”

Wriothesley’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. He was watching Neuvillette all too closely now. “Is it too early for us to duel? I’ll admit I’m curious now… I know you must be strong.”

“I– I believe the duel is– before the pair begins to have sex. It determines… who would lay the eggs, should they… reproduce.”

“You fight to figure out who tops? And that’s it, for, what, the whole relationship?”

“No. I believe– the challenge can be re-issued. And I do not know how seriously the formality is taken in practice. Surely, other dragons also have their own… preferenccccessss.”

“Surely they do,” Wriothesley agreed. “Do you want to duel sometime? You don’t have to let me top if I win. It could be more of a ride you right there on the floor of the Pankration ring situation.”

Neuvillette bit back a moan. He shifted and trapped Wriothesley’s boot between his legs before it could slide any higher. He wouldn’t be able to have this conversation if he started rutting against it like an animal.

“It’ssss not a play fight. It issss a proper duel. You are ssssstill tired– ”

“I am, but it’s past curfew. The ring’s empty. We can have the cake after.”

He locked eyes with him. There was a force of will there that had been missing the last few days. His eyes shone with challenge.

Neuvillette shuddered, feeling himself slide out another inch.

“… We could have a.. practice match. You did ssssay you wanted… exercisssse.”

Wriothesley pulled his foot out from between Neuvillette’s legs and stood.

“You shouldn’t fight in your robes and I need to do… some warmups.”

When Neuvillette nodded, eagerly, Wriothesley tossed him a key.

“I’ll see you in the ring in half an hour.”

Chapter Text

Wriothesley left Neuvillette to change and went down to set up the Pankration ring. He made sure they would be alone and turned on the spotlights, illuminating the stage in the darkness. The dark metal gleamed, ready and waiting for the match that would soon take place.

Then, Wriothesley snuck into the adjoining bathroom and prepared himself for the aftermath. He worked oiled fingers into himself quickly, stretching himself out inside so he could take Neuvillette faster once the match was over.

He wasn’t planning on throwing the match, but it never hurt to be ready for the most likely outcome. His fingers would be sore after a fistfight anyway and it would take longer.

If Wriothesley managed to win, well, he certainly wouldn’t mind topping Neuvillette again. Maybe he’d ask Neuvillette to sit in his lap so he could watch his face while he wrung him out with his hands, buried deep inside. He knew it was more likely he’d end up with his face pressed into the steel floor in a much nicer way than any other time he’d been thrown to the ground in the ring.

Wriothesley washed his hands, got dressed again, and checked himself in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were almost gone after two nights of deep sleep wrapped up in Neuvillette’s tail. Admittedly, he wasn’t feeling up to going all-out in a fight, but then, this was just a ‘practice match’.

“A courtship duel, huh,” he said to his reflection.

Neuvillette had certainly been trying hard to approach him the way a human would. It was only fair for Wriothesley to flirt the way a dragon would to return the favor. It sounded fun, and if it meant something to Neuvillette, Wriothesley wanted to give this to him.

(He’d troubled Neuvillette enough this week. Maybe this would be a drop in the bucket towards making it up to him.)

Wriothesley was back in the ring, checking his gauntlets, when he heard the door unlock. Neuvillette stepped inside, dressed down in just his shirt, trousers, and boots. Once the door was re-locked, he even took off his cravat and gloves, though for some reason, he kept his cane with him. He was also holding a book – Wriothesley figured that must be his catalyst. Wriothesley’s catalyst, a security drone he’d kitbashed together with old parts from more traditional sphere-and-crystal-type catalysts, was already orbiting his head.

“I see your claws look a lot less sharp than they did last night,” Wriothesley called. “Are you trying to distract me to win the match?”

Neuvillette chuckled as stepped up into the ring. “I had some time before my lunch meeting. I do not think there is a rule against distraction, normally, for a courtship duel, but my text did not describe the ritual in detail.”

“Considering what happens right after, I’m going to assume nut shots are out of the question,” Wriothesley said with a grin.

Neuvillette pursed his lips, his cheeks flushing blue. “… I cannot call you crass for that, in this context.”

“Not really. Both of us need our dicks out right after the fight is over. So… no hits to the groin, no going for the face for the same reason I don’t leave love-bites your robe wouldn’t cover… how many rounds? For Pankration, it’s usually three, but this is just the venue.” Wriothesley gestured to the stage around them.

“I will admit…” Neuvillette unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and started to roll them up. Pale arms, kissed with clusters of blue scales, were revealed. “… I was planning on tiring you out with just one round.”

Wriothesley bit back a groan. He was at a disadvantage, already worked up from stretching his ass before the fight. Fighting with his cock half-up was going to be a hindrance. “What decides the match, then? First blood?”

Neuvillette shook his head. There was a glint in his eyes, his weighted stare trained on Wriothesley. “That seems an frustrating goal for a fight between two catalyst users sending Hydro and Cryo energy at each other. Is a match here not usually decided when the loser is pinned to the ground for a count of ten?”

Wriothesley laughed. “No, that’s wrestling. In Pankration, you lose when you give. Or when you fall apart, if you’re a meka, I guess. If you want to pin me down, you’ll have to win first.”

Neuvillette hissed softly, a flash of blue tongue flickering past his lips. At least Wriothesley wasn’t the only one getting distracted. “Very well. Shall we start?”

Wriothesley shrugged. “I was thinking we’d just wait for the bell to ring. It’s on a timer. Should go off pretty soon.”

He stood on one of the marked starting spots and took his stance, fists up in front of his face. Neuvillette stood on the mark opposite his, hand hovering over his book.

The bell rang and Wriothesley darted in first. Other Catalyst users tended to work from further away, so fighting from close quarters would put him at an advantage. Neuvillette dodged the first blow that went for his chest, sending a burst of water out of his hand that deflected Wriothesley’s arm away.

The spray didn’t even hurt. That couldn’t be all Neuvillette had to work with. Still, Wriothesley stepped right into his space again, sending his fists in quickly, pushing out ice with every blow. Dodging would force Neuvillette backwards, and so would the force from the punch if one of Wriothesley’s attacks actually hit. If Wriothesley got Neuvillette against the bars at the edge of the ring, he’d be all his.

Neuvillette stomped his cane on the ground and a geyser of water burst out of the floor from nowhere. It staggered Wriothesley, and he barely missed the stab of Ousia-infused light that followed it.

Water was all over the ground now. When Neuvillette raised his hand to attack again, all of the water he’d scattered drew up into his hand, and the blast of water that washed over Wriothesley sent him sliding backwards on the metal floor. He grit his teeth, dug in his heavy boots, and punched outward, sending a massive wave of ice out along the path of Neuvillette’s attack. Neuvillette let his hand drop before the ice could get to him and freeze him over, and Wriothesley charged forwards to get in close again.

It felt good, to move, to push himself, and to brush up against Neuvillette before he could send out a barrage of punches. Normally, in boxing, the goal was to aim for the face, which meant disallowing blows to the face put Wriothesley at another disadvantage.

The bigger disadvantage was the sight of Neuvillette panting from effort in a wet white dress shirt.

The next time Neuvillette tapped the ground with his cane, water rushed up from almost the entire surface of the ring. Wriothesley managed not to get hit in the initial burst of energy, but there were aftershocks, smaller geysers that Wriothesley could not predict. An effort to punch through one served only to make the ground slippery with ice. Wriothesley would be fine, of course. His boots were sturdy for a reason, and they had cleats in the soles that would keep his stance steady.

Neuvillette was wearing his low-heeled dress shoes, of course. Before Neuvillette could suck all the water back up, Wriothesley punched the ground and sent his ice out as far as he could. If he could get him to slip –

Neuvillette raised his hands to draw back the water he’d sent out again, and this time, he started levitating. His eyes and rhinophores glowed with the same blue light that usually came alongside a show of his power. The light formed a shape behind him rather like the fins of Neuvillette’s dragon form.

Wriothesley was so spellbound that he forgot Neuvillette was charging another attack. A wall of concentrated water hit him, and while Wriothesley had not dropped his stance and his feet were settled firmly on the ground with his boots digging into the ice, the blast still hit him in the chest and sent him flying backwards. He tucked his head in and curled up before he could hit the side of the ring. The blow to his back left him winded, and the rush of water was still rushing against him. Wriothesley managed to grab the ringside bars and tug himself to the side, but the blast followed him.

Neuvillette was floating closer. If he could keep this up until he reached Wriothesley – well, then what? His attacks at close range so far hadn’t been nearly as impressive, and he would be in range of Wriothesley’s fists again. Wriothesley was pinned and running out of other tricks, so that was the strategy he’d have to work with. Hold out until Neuvillette dropped the attack or was close enough to him, then strike.

The wide radius of Neuvillette’s blast meant that the water pressure keeping him pinned by his chest was also pushing against his groin. He had already been getting hard before they started, and the rush of water felt good. The sensation was… intense, and it left Wriothesley with very little space to think.

Neuvillette dropped his hand right as he reached Wriothesley, and the attack ceased. Wriothesley was left clinging to the railing with both arms, sopping wet, his shirt stuck to his chest, and all the way erect, the wet outline of his dick straining against his pants.

Neuvillette stared, his eyes tracking over Wriothesley’s body.

“Do you yield?” he asked. “You seem… compromised.”

Wriothesley barked with laughter and launched himself off the railing towards him. He grabbed Neuvillette by the shirt and kissed him, hard enough that their teeth clacked, and pressed his body against his. When he ground their hips together, he felt the shape of Neuvillette’s cocks press against his through the layers of wet fabric, and Neuvillette moaned into his mouth.

“No, Monsieur.”

And then Wriothesley grabbed Neuvillette by the wrist, twisted it behind his back, hooked an ankle around his, and pushed at him with all of his body weight. The two were sent rushing to the ground.

Neuvillette’s tail broke his fall, and he rolled out from under Wriothesley, yanking his wrist free. Wriothesley hit the ground chest-first, and Neuvillette rolled on top of him. Before Wriothesley could get back up, Neuvillette’s hand slammed into the back of his neck, blunted claws digging into the sides of his throat. He wasn’t cutting off Wriothesley’s airflow, but if his claws dug in, even sanded down like this, he could crush his windpipe.

Wriothesley was had. His cock throbbed hard where it was trapped in his pants, pressed into the floor by Neuvillette’s weight.

“Do you yield,” Neuvillette said again.

Wriothesley nodded. The exaggerated movement caused those claws to dig into the sides of his neck just a little more. He shuddered at the feeling and moaned, voice ragged and desperate.

“Ah… of course,” Neuvillette said. “You did ssssay before that you like to be… choked.”

He withdrew his hand. Wriothesley’s body was flooded with relief, with the danger gone. The rush went straight to his dick and he moaned again, louder this time.

Wriothesley heard a startled hiss and turned to look at him over his shoulder. Neuvillette’s face was bright blue, his eyes wide. His rhinophores were still faintly glowing, leftover energy from his last attack fading out. He was breathing hard, gills flaring, his shirt translucent from being doused in water. Two prominent bulges pressed out against one of Neuvillette’s pant legs.

“You could put your hand back,” Wriothesley suggested. When Neuvillette hissed so hard that he sputtered, Wriothesley laughed.

“No, okay, choking isn’t a thing you just do,” he admitted. “And this is your victory… and I am all ready to go.”

He ground his ass back against Neuvillette’s hips. The dragon’s cocks felt warm through their wet clothes. Neuvillette hissed and grabbed Wriothesley’s waist tight in both hands.

“My victory,” said Neuvillette, his breath hot in Wriothesley’s ear, “I won the duel. I’m going to have you here on the floor like thissss. I’ve been sssaving my eggs…”

His eyes slid closed, white lashes fluttering against flushed skin, while he sighed, driving his clothed erections against Wriothesley’s ass.

“Fuck. Choke me,” Wriothesley said, his voice cracking, “Put your hand back. Hold me down. You want to make sure I take every single egg, don’t you?”

Neuvillette growled, clutching his waist tighter. His claws dug into Wriothesley’s sides. “Wriothhhesssley, yessss– every lasssst one. How– ?”

“Squeeze the sides of my neck, not the front,” Wriothesley said quickly, heart pounding harder. “Don’t squeeze too hard for more than a couple seconds. I’ll slap the ground if it’s too tight. If you’re so focused on breeding me you don’t notice, I’ll blast you with ice. That work?”

Neuvillette nodded, already tugging his at pants, so Wriothesley turned back around. His trousers were yanked free of his suspenders, exposing his ass to the air. Neuvillette’s hand circled around Wriothesley’s neck from behind once again. He pressed him down until his chest hit the floor. Neuvillette’s tail wrapped around his middle, locking him in place further. Wriothesley could feel two stiff, wet cocks brush against the swell of his ass.

“You ssssaid you were ready?” A finger, coated with Neuvillette’s slick, prodded at Wriothesley’s entrance.

“Check… my work, monsieur,” said Wriothesley. He groaned as the finger pressed deeper, rocking into him carefully, testing his resistance.

“Enough for one,” Neuvillette decided. “I will be taking my prize.”

One clawed hand spread Wriothesley open, five dulled talons digging into the meat of his asscheek to hold it aside, the other land on his neck to squeeze just a little. The wide, fluked end of Neuvillette’s cock started to press inside.

Wriothesley shuddered, hands scrabbling at the floor for leverage. He wanted to press back, to jam onto him, but the ground was still slippery and Neuvillette had him pinned to the floor too firmly. He could only take what he gave him, take the slow drag of each rounded part of the head pushed past his rim. Neuvillette got the whole tip inside and started to work himself in further, urging forward with gentle, shallow thrusts. It was only when Neuvillette was more than halfway in that he started to push harder.

Wriothesley’s wanton cry at the first sharp snap of Neuvillette’s hips was cut off as Neuvillette’s hand squeezed his neck tighter. His breath wasn’t fully restricted, but the pressure had him lightheaded, forced him still while Neuvillette’s cock raked through him, and made him all the more aware of his pounding heart and aching dick. With his pants shoved down, his cock was free, but his hips were held up too high for Wriothesley to get any friction from the floor.

After a few delicious slams into Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s grip loosened, and the relief once again crashed over him in a wave. The high left Wriothesley dizzy, but Neuvillette was still fucking himself further and further into Wriothesley and leaving him with little space to properly catch his breath. Wriothesley’s moans of encouragement were muffled by his own gasps, leaving any words he tried to shape with his mouth hard to discern.

“Yeh – s, Neu – Neuv – har –”

“Harder?” Neuvillette growled. His tail tightened around Wriothesley and yanked him all the way onto his cock, his hand gripping his throat harder once again. Wriothesley’s cry was choked out of him the second Neuvillette bottomed out. Neuvillette pulled himself back until the flared end of his length caught around Wriothesley’s rim, then drove back down with a force that would have sent Wriothesley sliding across the floor if he were not being gripped so tight.

Neuvillette’s free arm circled around Wriothesley’s chest. His tail snaked around Wriothesley tighter. His chest was warm against Wriothesley’s back through his wet shirt. Neuvillette’s unused cock rubbed against his ass with every stroke, smearing its wetness all over him.

His lungs were burning. It was all so much, the perfect sting of asphyxiation, Neuvillette growling into his ear from behind, the relentless, harsh thrusts into him that grew faster and faster. The excitement of fighting so hard was bleeding into this moment, and if it kept on like this, Wriothesley was going to come far too soon –

He could feel his pounding heart thudding in time with the pain growing in his head. He realized his vision was starting to get fuzzy and fade out, and he started slapping the ground.

Neuvillette released his neck immediately and went still. Wriothesley heaved, coughing and gasping for breath, the pain gone but his system still flooded with adrenaline. The rush had him quaking under Neuvillette. When he had enough breath back to make sounds, he moaned, thrusting back onto the cock still half-inside him.

“Wriothhh– ” Neuvillette’s voice was cut off by a hiss.

“I’m fine,” Wriothesley wheezed. “Promise. Told you… I’d say if I needed a break.”

Neuvillette nodded into his shoulder and started to thrust into him again, but he was slower now. Wriothesley found himself turned over onto his back, his spine arched by Neuvillette’s tail still under his waist. Apologies in the form of soft kisses were pressed into his cheeks. Their legs tangled together, and Neuvillette sighed as he took constrictive hold on him again.

He pushed himself up on his hands and watched Wriothesley’s face as his tail twisted around again and wrapped around his neck, still too loose for him to feel it.

“Jussst a break?” Neuvillette asked. “Shhhould I…?”

His tail tightened around his neck experimentally, only applying pressure to the sides. Wriothesley groaned, arching up into his next thrust.

“Monsieur– Neuvillette– ” He laughed, more rasp than words. “You take instructions– well, don’t you– yes– ”

Neuvillette shivered, half-closed eyes shining from the praise. He tugged his hips back sharply, pulling all the way out of him. Before Wriothesley had the chance to protest this loss, he crashed back down, pushing both of his cocks past Wriothesley’s entrance and driving deep inside. The flukes raked against his prostate mercilessly, and Wriothesley yelled, only to be cut off once again by a choking squeeze from Neuvillette’s tail.

Neuvillette set into a harsh pace from there. Every few thrusts, there would be a warning pressure against his neck right before a brutal, wet slap of his hips against Wriothesley’s ass. Wriothesley saw stars from the cruel drag of Neuvillette inside, from the strong tail forming a collar on the most punishing thrusts.

Neuvillette muffled the sounds not choked out of him with fierce kisses. Fangs nipped at Wriothesley’s tongue, and a tongue far too long flickered against the roof of his mouth. Despite the absolute control Neuvillette had over Wriothesley’s body in this moment, it was Neuvillette who whimpered when their skin smacked together, Neuvillette who trembled after the hardest thrusts. The incredible girths being forced into Wriothesley were swelling, weeping with more than just lubricant now.

Wriothesley collected himself enough – somehow – to throw his arms around Neuvillette’s back and groaned into his ear.

“Close… close, Neuvillette?” he panted. “Aren’t you? Hold… me down. Make me… take it.”

The resulting keening cry was answer enough. Neuvillette’s tail grabbed him incredibly tight around neck and waist both, bringing giddy haziness to Wriothesley once again while Neuvillette coursed into him with a frenzy. One hand held onto Wriothesley’s chest for stability while the other scrabbled between their bodies to find Wriothesley’s dick and tug frantically, just before Neuvillette tossed his head back and sounded his much-anticipated roar.

Neuvillette’s orgasm rushed into him, cocks churning out a seemingly endless supply of hot seed. His hips did not slow, and neither did his hand tugging around Wriothesley with purpose. Wriothesley’s vision was swimming again, and he was just about to start slapping the ground with Neuvillette let go.

The sharp edge of relief was what brought Wriothesley over the edge. He was vaguely aware of Neuvillette’s first climax trickling to a stop, but that was nothing compared to the overwhelming bite of the pleasure ripped out of Wriothesley right now. He rutted into Neuvillette’s hand faster, faster, splattering white all over both of them.

Wriothesley’s sight was still blurred, even with Neuvillette’s tail nowhere near his neck at all. It took hearing his own voice hitch to realize he was crying. Neuvillette leaned over and kissed him again, lips soft and soothing. His hand slowed, still milking Wriothesley through his aftershocks, but giving him more space to breathe.

He fell back, drawing rattling, hissing breaths once again. He felt warm and worked over, like he normally would after a long, hard fight. Everything felt sensitive, felt good, from his stuffed, sloppy mess of his hole, to the cold air filling his lungs, to the prickle of tears welling up in his eyes. He could almost sleep just like this, no matter how hard the floor was beneath him.

But Neuvillette wasn’t done. He was thrusting into Wriothesley with relentless strength again, and Wriothesley knew what was coming.

Words were growled through Neuvillette’s teeth. “Wriothhhessley, mine … mine… ”

Wriothesley laughed, breathless. His brought his tired hands around him again to grab his ass, kneading, pulling him further in.

“Give it to me,” he murmured, and Neuvillette did exactly what he asked.

Eggs rushed into him, pushing out Neuvillette’s cum as they went, and Neuvillette drove himself in deeper, deeper, spine rolling in waves as he pushed his eggs in further, until he was shivering in Wriothesley’s hold, until he shoved himself in one last time and stilled. A rush of cum and lubricant washed out at this last thrust, and Neuvillette collapsed on top of him. He was the one fighting for breath, now, still trembling while came down from it all.

Wriothesley, drowsy, sore, and satisfyingly full, ran dirty fingers through Neuvillette’s hair.

“Well, Monsieur?” he said. “Do you feel like a winner?”

Neuvillette shifted to he could turn his face up towards him.

“Yesssss.”

They lay together like that, catching their breaths, until Neuvillette’s hemipenes had retracted and his eggs, despite Wriothesley’s best efforts to contain them, started rolling across the Pankration ring.

“I can’t keep those in right now,” Wriothesley huffed, face scrunching up as he tried. “There’s… there’s showers that way.”

He gestured, vaguely, to the door the locker rooms were behind. Neuvillette sat up and caught all of the mess on the ground around them into a globe of Hydro energy, which followed them into the bathroom as he carried Wriothesley in, so he could wash it all down the drain.

He didn’t even let Wriothesley try to stand until both of them were rinsed off. His knees buckled the second he tried to support his own weight and he slipped against the tile floor, falling against Neuvillette’s chest.

“We both knew this would happen,” Neuvillette chided. “Let us go back to your rooms, and I will run a bath to wash us properly.”

“That… sounds good,” Wriothesley said. With the afterglow fading, he was already starting to feel the strain he’d just put himself through. A long soak in a hot bath would do a lot for him right now.

Neuvillette wrapped him up in his coat and carried him back outside. Wriothesley was heavy in his arms, leaning back against him and dozing off in the elevator back up to the administrative floor.

Wriothesley could see the light was on over the tables of the cafeteria on the other side of this level of the fortress. Clorinde and Sigewinne must have still been over there. As if to confirm his thoughts, he heard Sigewinne’s bubbling laughter echo across the empty chamber.

“We could go and sit with them, if we change clothes,” said Neuvillette.

Wriothesley snorted. “Clorinde will never forgive me if we do that. And…” He curled up closer into Neuvillette’s chest. “I’d rather just be alone with you right now.”

However, when they came around the column that contained Wriothesley’s office and sleeping quarters, Sigewinne’s voice rang out across the floor.

“Do you need a milkshake?”

Wriothesley picked up his head enough to grin at Sigewinne and Clorinde (whose head was on the table after Sigewinne’s comment) and waved to them.

“I will ensure he drinks more water,” Neuvillette called back, his voice booming through the air.

“Good job! I still need to finish his care pamphlet!”

“My what,” Wriothesley mumbled, but Neuvillette shushed him and kissed the top of his head.

He was carried up to his rooms and set down, gently, as if he was something precious and delicate, on the edge of his bathtub. Neuvillette turned on the tap and started to undress him.

“I can do that part… myself,” Wriothesley grumbled, but he submitted himself to Neuvillette’s hands anyway. It felt pointless to stick to his pride on this when he hadn’t had the strength to wash out his own ass a few minutes ago.

Neuvillette peeled off his own wet clothes and got into the tub with him, holding him in his lap while the water filled around them.

“No fancy salts or bubble bath soap here, Monsieur.” Wriothesley yawned. “Sorry if that’s not fine enough for a man of your tastes.”

“The water in the taps here is perfectly acceptable on its own without the adulteration of… bubble bath,” Neuvillette said, with disaste heavy in his tone. “The Liffey Region’s inland seawater is rich in its own way, even filtered as it is here in Meropide.”

A dull-clawed hand stroked up and down Wriothesley’s arm. As it often did, it lingered on Wriothesley’s scars – there was a nasty gouge in his right bicep, from where a rogue Meka had almost sliced his arm off.

“You don’t… need to worry about me,” Wriothesley said. “Really.”

Plenty of Wriothesley’s scars were from fights he had started. Some were even parting gifts from his parents, who had fought tooth and nail while he handed down his version of justice. Neuvillette wouldn’t fuss like this if he understood that, and even if he did, Wriothesley wouldn’t deserve it.

“Those marks are just… the consequences of some of my actions.”

Neuvillette’s hand stopped. “Would you prefer I not touch them?”

Wriothesley shrugged. “… I don’t usually mind.”

He had too many scars to reasonably ask Neuvillette to avoid them all. And it was cute, when he kissed across them, usually. But right now, with all of his old memories dredged up, it didn’t feel right.

Neuvillette took his hand away anyway and started to wash Wriothesley’s hair. The faint scratch of his sanded-down claws felt good on his scalp, and he relaxed further back against him.

“You know, Monsieur… I hadn’t taken a bath in a while, before I started seeing you,” he said. “Shower’s faster and all. But these days…”

“These days… I coerce you into the tub with sex?” Neuvillette asked.

Wriothesley laughed. “Monsieur, I never expect it when you tell a joke.”

Neuvillette chuckled softly. “It does happen, at times.”

Wriothesley hummed, closing his eyes, and let Neuvillette message the shampoo into his hair. “Not that you haven’t caused a certain… association. But I do take a dip sometimes, even without you there. I forgot it was so relaxing.”

“Good.” Neuvillette tilted Wriothesley’s head back onto his shoulder and directed some of the bathwater to swirl over Wriothesley’s hair, rinsing the shampoo and suds free. “You could stand to take better care of yourself.”

Wriothesley frowned. “Monsieur Neuvillette, I am not sure I want to hear that from you.”

Neuvillette picked up a bottle of conditioner. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“The first night I stayed over, it started raining during a trial in the morning, and you powered through a lunch meeting like everything was fine. Then, you met with me to hook up without so much as mentioning you were upset, let alone that you were crying. And I would have thought everything was fine if I hadn’t happened upon you being the Hydro Dragon and connected the dots with the weather.”

Neuvillette sighed. “As I said then, there are often times I must ‘power through.’ But I have been… working on it, recently, haven’t I? I only wish for you to take your own advice on this.”

Wriothesley hissed a breath in through his teeth. “You make me sound like a hypocrite.”

“… Perhaps.” Neuvillette lathered the conditioner into Wriothesley’s hair. It didn’t smell like Wriothesley’s usual product, and now that he thought of it, neither had the shampoo.

“Monsieur, are you using your soaps on me? The ones you brought from home?”

Neuvillette paused. “And what if I am?”

“I would say you are terribly possessive. What am I to do with you?”

Neuvillette patted the top of his head. “As you cannot walk… nothing, I suppose?”

“… It is a little funny, that I’m rendered like this, and you’re the one worried.”

“You have caused me to worry these past few days.” Neuvillette’s hands started moving again.

“I know,” Wriothesley said, “I… I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I’m sorry.”

“It would reassure me if you would tell me what happened,” the dragon hinted.

“I said I would, if it happened again,” Wriothesley reminded him.

“And if it happens again, will you be reduced to the state you were in most of this week?”

“… Probably not?”

He didn’t know. He’d been caught by surprise, so maybe he would be ready the next time Arleccino approached him. He’d spent enough time stuck in old memories lately that there wasn’t much more to dredge up.

But what if she really did reveal their shared past without bothering to make a second threat? What would happen to Wriothesley’s credibility then? As a boyfriend? As the Fortress’s administrator? If it hit the rumor mill or the newspapers, would Neuvillette’s reputation suffer too?

Neuvillette’s arms circled around Wriothesley’s waist. “If you are in danger, I would prefer you tell me, before something did happen.”

Wriothesley sagged back into him. “My safety wasn’t threatened.”

“You said you were reminded of your past. Who approached you that day?” Neuvillette held onto him tighter. His tail rose out of the water, wrapping around one of Wriothesley’s legs. The dragon curled around him like a second skin, like a shell.

“I didn’t say anyone approached me,” Wriothesley mumbled.

“Aeval mentioned you had an argument with an old woman on the Aquabus?”

Wriothesley groaned. “Fuck. They tell you everything. Right.”

“Not unprompted, Wriothesley. I asked.”

Wriothesley tensed, suddenly a frozen statue in the dragon’s embrace. “What?”

Neuvillette’s hands ran up and down Wriothesley’s arms. “I had… never seen you so despondent. I did not know what to do. And… my personal feelings aside, you are an important figure who holds a key position of power. If this was a matter of your safety…”

“… Then you had a responsibility to investigate,” Wriothesley sighed. “No, you’re right. I like to think of myself as a big boy who can handle my own blackmailers, but… we have too much at risk right now.”

He fell back again into Neuvillette’s hold. “It wasn’t an old woman, though. I’m not sure how Aeval thought that.”

“She said it was a woman with long, white hair,” Neuvillette said.

Wriothesley shook his head. “Her hair’s white, but she’s only two years older than me. It was one of my sisters. One who… graduated before I did. I thought she was dead all this time.”

“I see,” said Neuvillette. “We never found record of everyone who had passed through that house. This must have been a shock.”

Wriothesley hesitated. “Actually, considering… if I looked up her old name, she’d probably be listed as dead.”

“Would she? None of your other older siblings had such thorough coverup. Many of them who were still in Fontaine were located by the Spina di Rosula.”

“Well.” Wriothesley’s throat felt tight. He didn’t want to tell him. He spoke anyway. “None of my other older siblings joined the Fatui.”

“The Fatui,” Neuvillette repeated.

“Not that I know of, anyway,” Wriothesley said. “Yes, the Fatui. She’s done pretty well for herself, too. Really rose through the ranks.”

“How high in the ranks, exactly?” Neuvillette asked carefully. It seemed like he already had suspicions.

“Oh, you know.” Wriothesley said, “Fourth?”

“Fourth?” Neuvillette’s grip on Wriothesley tightened almost painfully. His tail thrashed in the water. “You were threatened by a Harbinger?”

“She approached me on the basis of our personal history!” Wriothesley said quickly. “She only threatened my reputation! She probably knew exactly where I was this whole time. You know how thorough the Fatui are with intel.”

“What was she asking you for, then?”

“She wanted information about the prophecy. I don’t think she knows anything about what we’re doing down here. I think she only approached because of all the… excitement lately.”

“The excitement,” Neuvillette said.

Wriothesley nodded. “In the papers. The publicity. Other people have approached me too, but none of them were from the kind of position where I’d dwell on it. And none of the others actually had something on me.”

“Then this is my fault.” Neuvillette said. “If we had kept our relationship quieter… this would not have happened.”

“Again. I was visiting the Palais a lot. For all we know, she would have put it together eventually. It just… caught me off-guard. That’s all. I told you before, it’s not worth the performance I’ve put on this week.”

“Wriothesley.” Neuvillette took his chin in his hands, urging him to turn and face him. “This is a serious matter. Blackmail from the Fatui is not something to be taken lightly. Perhaps you should stay here awhile. I can visit you instead of making you come out to see me. We have managed well these last few nights, after all.”

“I can’t make it look like I’m scared just because the Fatui threatened me. They’ll double down,” Wriothesley said, “And I am feeling better than I was a few days ago. It’s better for both of us to go about business as usual.”

“I believe you are right,” said Neuvillette. “But Wriothesley… are you scared?”

“… I was,” Wriothesley said. “I didn’t want you to know.”

A connection to the Fatui, on top of everything else about his past. How much worse could Wriothesley look in Neuvillette’s eyes?

“I do not understand,” Neuvillette said. “If I do not know, I cannot help you.”

“Help me,” Wriothesley said blankly.

The threat had already been made. Even if Neuvillette had not reacted with the revulsion Wriothesley had expected, this did not change that Arleccino could still go to the press and imply Wriothesley’s loyalties lied outside of Meropide, or even just bring up his crimes again and connect them to who he was now. What could Neuvillette do in this situation to help?

No one had helped before, when he was younger–

“Wriothesley?” Neuvillette asked. “What is wrong?”

Wriothesley started, shaken out of his thoughts. Soap dripped into his eyes from his hair, and he winced.

Neuvillette raised a hand. The water rose with it, until his hair was being rinsed. Wriothesley rubbed at his eyes, furiously refusing to think he was tearing up for any reason other than the soap.

“I…” Wriothesley took a deep breath. “I just… don’t like having all of this brought up again. I don’t think too much about it, these days. I didn’t think it could still… get to me. At least not this much.”

Neuvillete smoothed Wriothesley’s wet hair back, out of his eyes. “The past… can still hurt, when you are not expecting a reminder of something painful.”

“I guess it can,” Wriothesley said. “… Would you wash my back?”

Neuvillette rubbed soap into Wriothesley’s skin, his hands slow and gentle. Wriothesley didn’t know how to process being cared for like this, not right now. Yet, slowly… he calmed down.

“So,” said Neuvillette, “We will act as we have been.”

“That’s the plan,” Wriothesley agreed.

“Perhaps we could have breakfast in the city tomorrow?” Neuvillette suggested.

“The fresh air might do me good,” Wriothesley said, “But that’s only if I can stand long enough to handle the elevator ride up to the surface.”

He nudged Neuvillette with his elbow. Neuvillette huffed. “That–”

“You were on top this time, Monsieur, so you can’t pin the blame on me~”

He turned in his arms to kiss him. Neuvillette pulled him up close, still rubbing his back on the pretense of washing him. Wriothesley groaned into his lips, letting his soreness and the hot water melt him into Neuvillette’s touch. Slowly, drowsily, their mouths came together, and their legs tangled in the water. Neuvillette pressed his tongue past Wriothesley’s teeth, and Wriothesley groaned, clutching at his shoulders.

“You… you tease, Monsieur,” he sighed, “I know you won’t be coming out for another round tonight.”

Neuvillette shrugged. “Perhaps not. Should I stop?”

“Well, as I am too weak to do anything after my crushing defeat at your hands– ”

He was silenced with another kiss. Neuvillette gathered him up to get out of the tub, but he kept close while he toweled Wriothesley off and carried him to bed.

“… you brought me tea,” Wriothesley remembered, once he was already wearing pajamas and tucked into his blankets. He tried to get up to prepare it, but Neuvillette wouldn’t let him off the mattress.

“Rest now if you want to get in the elevator tomorrow,” Neuvillette said.

Wriothesley had to direct Neuvillette in brewing the tea he’d brought before they could share the cake. There was no way he would let Monsieur “I will drink whatever tea will keep me awake” Neuvillette brew such a delicate, expensive blend on his own.

The tea was as good as he remembered, and brought out all the best notes of what was a objectively the finest dessert he’d ever tasted. But Wriothesley was yawning before the tea was even done brewing, and he fell asleep in Neuvillette’s lap before the cake was finished.

Sigewinne’s care pamphlet made its way to Neuvillette later that week. Sedenne brought it in with the rest of his mail.

Humans are complicated creatures with many nutritional and emotional needs. Here are some tips to maintain yours to keep him in good health!

Daily care: Humans thrive best when they get a minimum of eight hours of sleep every night and have three nutritional meals a day. Fewer meals can be healthy if they are large enough and contain the right compounds, and some humans have snacks in between the larger meals. The basic nutritional requirements for a human man in his thirties with well-defined muscles are...

Neuvillette read avidly, in between meetings. After the events of this week, he was determined more than ever to take good care of Wriothesley.

Wriothesley had insisted that he was well enough now that Neuvillette didn’t need to keep commuting to sleep in his bed every night, and he had promised that he would let Sigewinne keep an eye on him for the next few days. Neuvillette had insisted on staying over one more night on the pretense of how weak he’d made his legs that night in the Pankration ring, but after that, he listened to Wriothesley’s request for “space.”

(He had mostly used the last night together as pretense for more sex. Wriothesley looked happier after, and well… Neuvillette could hardly get enough of him. It had not helped Wriothesley get back to walking normally, however.)

The pamphlet covered foods Wriothesley needed to eat, and the needs for sleep, sunshine, sun protection, emotional attention, and countless other things that were cited as important for human wellness.

The last page of the pamphlet was a sticker sheet. Neuvillette laughed in his empty office.

Venti nearly rivaled Zhongli in his ability to empty Ajax’s wallet. While Zhongli would simply forget to bring his own money, Venti boldy and cheerfully announced that he was a traveling musician who simply could not afford the amount of alcohol he was drinking. Threats to hold him liable to a loan from the Northland Bank fell on deaf ears.

Dvalin was almost worse. At the end of any meal they had while they were out, he started to pull a gemstone the size of an apple out of somewhere in his clothes to try and pay for the food. On top of this, he had bitten through several pairs of chopsticks with teeth that would not stay blunt, accidentally crushed the doorknob into Zhongli’s apartment more than once with his claws, and, on one memorable occasion, torn his shirt calling up his actual wings instead of unfurling the kite-shaped wing glider Zhongli went him when the group went gliding in Guyun Stone Forest.

“Are all dragons this bad at lying, or is it just you two?” Ajax hissed at Zhongli while Venti tackled Dvalin to keep him from leaping into the air to catch a bird that flew too close.

“I would like to impress that in the old days, we did not have to lie,” Zhongli sighed. “And in the current days… no one expects a stranger to be a dragon. I have, at most, been suspected to be one of the adeptus Streetward Rambler’s disciples, as she is known to pick up students in martial arts in this city.”

“Right. Madame Ping,” Ajax said, nodding, “Or is Streetward Rambler the fussy lady with the glasses the two of you play mahjong with?”

“Xianyun… is not Streetward Rambler,” Zhongli coughed, his eyes flitting away. At least he had the sense to be embarrassed. “They have been asking to meet you. I will introduce you to both of them properly later, after our houseguests have gotten bored of Liyue Harbor.”

“So… any day now,” Ajax said hopefully. “Why are those two so much less busy than you when you’re the one who’s retired?”

“Well, there is being retired. And then there is being on vacation.”

Dvalin got out of Venti’s grasp and started chasing the bird on foot. He started to climb a tree to try and catch it, but Venti hopped onto his back and pulled him back down.

“… Your friends certainly keep things interesting, at least,” Ajax laughed.

Their guests left only two days after that, when Venti suddenly announced at breakfast that he had to get back to Monstadt quick to help put on some festival that he had entirely forgotten about. When pressed, he admitted that it was not the tips he’d get playing at the event he was looking forward to, but the limited edition drinks that the Dawn Winery would be putting out. Still, Venti and Dvalin were packed in under an hour, and said their goodbyes quickly.

Dvalin placed two fistfuls of gemstones – amethysts, turquoises, and lazurites of varying sizes – into Ajax’s hands.

“For Barbatos’s tab at Xinyue Kiosk,” he said. “Thank you for looking after Rex. Someone so old should not be lonely, even if he fakes his death.”

“Dvalin,” Zhongli warned, but his words were not heeded.

“As for your condition,” Dvalin continued, “You said you already know the Traveler. You do know he has the ability to lessen or even purify the affects of the Abyss?”

Ajax frowned. He hadn’t said anything about the Abyss to Dvalin. How did he know?

“It didn’t come up in conversation,” he said.

“Well, if you ask, he may be able to help you. Think on it. I found that repeated battle with the Traveler helped me to banish the corruption from my system.”

“That’s funny. I was fighting Aether once a week for awhile, and I was using my corruption to have an advantage over him,” Ajax said, smiling with all his teeth. “Not that I’ll ever turn down a good fight. In fact, if you think it’ll help your condition, I bet you have time for a round before you go back home.”

Dvalin stared at him a long moment. Then, he laughed.

“I see now why Rex was so fast to mate you!” he said. “He must have worried another dragon would take this bloodlust for interest.”

“Dvalin,” Zhongli said again, more urgently this time.

“No one is fighting anyone,” Venti whined. “Come on! We can still hitch a ride with the Feiyun Commerce Guild’s transport caravan if we hurry!”

The God of Freedom and the East Wind headed down the street. Zhongli watched them from the doorway until they rounded the corner.

“… It was good to see them,” Zhongli said. “I know they caused you some trouble.”

“No trouble I can charge them for, now. I was looking forward to sending the Church of Favonius an invoice,” Ajax sighed, looking at the gemstones in his hands.

“Oh. Is that a genuine Varunada Azurite?”

Zhongli spent the next several minutes explaining the significance of every jewel Ajax had just received. By the end of the impromptu lecture, the stones were sorted on the low table by the couch, first by type, then grade, then size.

It had been awhile since Ajax got one of these lessons, with all the excitement of the last few days. It was nice to be alone with him again.

“It’s half past eleven in the morning, Kaeya. We’re closed,” Diluc called without looking up from the bar when the door opened.

“Oh. Well, if I see the Cavalry Captain, I will let him know. But I would like to have a word with you before you open the shop.”

It was Albedo. His smile was as polite and unreadable as it always had been.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Diluc said. “What brings the Captain of the Investigation Team here outside of business hours?”

Albedo closed the door behind himself and sat at the bar. “I am not here for business, I am here to speak privately,” he said simply. There was no sense of tone, no inflection, to his voice.

Diluc had never been able to read Albedo, not even when he was in the Knights of Favonius himself and saw him on a somewhat regular basis. Normally, this would have led to a general distrust of the man, but Albedo was one of the few people in the Ordo Favonius that Diluc saw as competent. No matter his secrets, it was vital that people of Albedo’s skills protected the city.

“I have caught signs that your most regular performer is heading back to Monstadt. He was seen heading through the Stone Gate on the back of one of the Feiyun rice shipments,” Albedo said. “He is bringing the dragon back with him.”

Diluc almost dropped the glass he was cleaning.

“You know about those two,” he said.

Albedo blinked, slowly, his glassy eyes eerie in the low light of the closed bar.

“I know that the unnaturally tall, often-fanged man that Klee calls ‘Blue Diluc’ is a dragon. I can sense it.”

“Blue Diluc? Really?”

Albedo shrugged. “He does resemble you, and he’s never given his name. The bard always seems to stop him, which is probably for the best. If you prefer, the Cavalry Captain has been known to refer to him as ‘Hot Diluc’ –”

“What– ”

“ – Which is what I came to talk to you about.”

Albedo leaned across the counter and put a hand on Diluc’s shoulder. “I need you to keep those two away from each other. I can’t explain, but this is a matter of Kaeya’s safety.”

“Did Kaeya do something to the East Wind?” Diluc said, frowning. He shoved Albedo’s hand off of him.

Albedo, not shaken in the slightest of even startled, pressed on. “No. But I am very worried that Dvalin will mistake Kaeya for… someone who did do something.”

Dvalin, felled and thought dead, but who instead suffered centuries of pain due to what the Abyssal magic of Khaenri’ah. And Kaeya, who…

Of course. How could Dvalin react with anything but violence if he saw Kaeya’s eye and figured out he was Khaenri’ahn? What would the casualties be if this happened in a place as crowded as the Angel’s Share?

“You know what Kaeya is,” Diluc realized.

“You’re close.” Albedo shook his head. “I know who Kaeya is. Do you, Master Diluc? Is that why you two are at such odds these days? He won’t talk to me about it, even when I told him I will keep his secrets.”

“That,” Diluc growled, “Is none of your business. I agree that those two should be kept away from each other. But we aren’t talking about my and Kaeya’s past.”

Albedo folded his hands on the counter. “Very well. I would also recommend you be careful how you handle Venti, in the future. I have reason to believe he and Dvalin are… very close, in a way that humans could not understand. If I am right, any harm to Venti will read as a threat to Dvalin, which I imagine you would like to avoid. If I can get confirmation, I will explain further.”

Albedo really needed to stop talking about ‘humans’ as if he weren’t one. It was going to cause him trouble one of these days, Diluc thought.

“… Ask the Acting Grandmaster about Venti if you want. I’m not explaining it.”

Jean could handle the burden of telling Albedo that Venti was Lord Barbatos, but Diluc had work to do. The winery, the Angel’s Share, protecting Monstadt from the Fatui and the Treasure Hoarders, and now… protecting Kaeya.

Could he keep him out of the Angel’s Share? He wouldn’t be able to keep Dvalin out any more than he could bar the doors from Venti. He always managed to find his way inside.

“Wouldn’t it be simplest for you to just distract Kaeya with an invented mission?” Diluc said. “Something about ley line abnormalities in the Dragonspine. It’s not like he has actual cavalry to look after, so he has the free time.”

“I am not giving Kaeya false information,” said Albedo. “The intelligence network he maintains is delicate. He could put himself in worse danger.”

He thought a moment. “But I suppose I could ask him to spend time with me. He does often ask if I am available for a meal. If I take him to the Cat’s Tail, rather than here, he will be out of Dvalin’s sight.”

Kaeya was asking Albedo out? Often? Sure, Albedo was popular, in a way, but–

“I suppose you could do the same, though, if it is not a night you work the bar,” Albedo hummed. “He spends enough time around you that I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“He spends time around dandelion wine and Death After Noons,” Diluc said. “Just get him to the Cat’s Tail if he has to drink. It doesn’t have to be you. I can take the loss of his business for awhile.”

“Yes. I will see how I can help.”

Albedo got off his bar stool and headed to the door.

“Of course, if this doesn’t work, I could always just tell him the truth. But he tends not to like it when I bring up the subject of his heritage, so I suspect that will backfire in some unexpected way.”

“Wait.”

Diluc came out from behind the bar. “You said you knew what Dvalin was because you sensed him. How does one sense a dragon? He looks like an ordinary person under Elemental Sight.”

Albedo smiled gently. “I am afraid it is not something I can teach you. You could say it’s… leftovers, from something the Traveler exorcised from me.”

“Exorcised?”

“Yes. As Dvalin was unable to sense me, the exorcism seems to have gone successfully, there is nothing you need to worry about. Being able to sense a dragon’s presence is just one of the lingering aftereffects.”

Below the Knights of Favonius’s headquarters, in a forgotten corner of a basement, a sword flared with an angry, red energy.

Wriothesley went back to business as usual. Despite how anxious he had been to keep what happened away from Neuvillette, he felt better after talking about it. He had a suspicion Neuvillette must have told certain people high up in the Maison Gardiennage, and likely Lady Furina, but a matter concerning a Harbinger couldn’t be swept under the rug. Wriothesley’s desire for privacy had to come second when there was a chance of the secret under the Fortress of Meropide could come out if they weren’t careful.

There were still times he felt… unconfident, at first. Once, he thought he spotted Arleccino in a crowd when he was making his way to the Palais Mermonia, but on closer inspection, it had been an old woman with a long white braid. Another time, Wriothesley felt he was being watched, and it turned out to only be Navia di Rosula.

“I… wanted to apologize,” Navia had said, her eyes downcast. “I was quite rude to you on the Aquabus the other week. After how stressed I was, it turned out my missing expert witness hadn’t even been kidnapped. He had a medical emergency and was unreachable because of it.”

“Oh,” Wriothesley said. “Is he… all right?”

“Yes, somehow. I received a letter from him earlier this week. The man was struck by lightning! Can you believe it? And, on top that, he lived. A true miracle.” She sighed. “Anyway, I am sorry. I hope the Spina and the Fortress of Meropide can continue to have a good working relationship.”

“Demoiselle, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble,” Wriothesley laughed, a little sheepish. “I already got your letter and the macarons.”

He started back down the street. Navia followed, her ever-present bodyguards not far behind.

“Are you attending the Midsummer Council?” she asked him.

The Midsummer Council was one of two social season events Wriothesley could not get out of attending. The other was the Midwinter Council, a similar event held about a month after Fontinalia. On the surface, both events were a large forum meeting in which all titled Fontainians, and several other important figures to the country, such as notable inventors and businessmen, discussed matters of state and policy. This discussion did happen, and was the place where many decisions were made, but immediately afterwards would be a feast and a lavish party, put on by Lady Furina ‘as apology for all of these boring talks’.

To some, it was considered the social event of the season. To Wriothesley, it was crowded, stuffy, and full people talking out of both sides of their mouth. The alcohol wasn’t strong enough for Wriothesley’s tastes and the food was almost entirely sweets that Lady Furina fancied.

“Am I attending,” Wriothesley sighed, “Yes. I don’t have a choice. All the gentry have to go. I will attend the actually important part and duck out of the ball as quickly as possible.”

“As quickly as possible,” Navia said, “Really. What about Monsieur Neuvillette? I hold no fondness for the man, but it seems unfair to leave him alone when he has to be there the whole night.”

Wriothesley paused. Of course. Neuvillette could never get out of anything Furina personally hosted. The poor man. The last people to leave the ball were climbing into their carriages early the next morning. Did Neuvillette have to stay awake through all of that? Meanwhile, Wriothesley would leave in the first hour, after greeting Furina and getting a passive-aggressive remark about ‘digging that same middle-of-the-road suit out of its grave again.’ Wriothesley tried to recall whether he’d noticed Neuvillette doing anything in particular in previous years’ Midsummer Council balls, and could only remember that he usually performed the opening dance with Furina, and was generally around, talking to various people, afterwards.

Wriothesley had not paid much special attention to Neuvillette in previous years’ balls. As attractive as he’d always been, there was a sort of air about someone who’d sentenced Wriothesley to ten years in prison that made him seem like a non-option, until that day Wriothesley ended up getting fresh with him in his office. Before then, as much as Wriothesley’s eyes had lingered once in awhile, he had maintained only a polite working relationship with him.

It was incredible, how quickly things could change. If he hadn’t thought it would be funny to lick one of Neuvillette’s rhinophores, he definitely wouldn’t have gotten eggs rolling across his office floor, let alone started dating him.

Wriothesley finished the errand he’d come up to the city for and headed straight to the Palais Mermonia. Everywhere he went, eyes followed him. After the spiral he’d been through the last few days, he felt a lot less smug about it than normal. He reminded himself not to walk too quickly and make his audience think there was some sort of emergency.

“Your Grace!” Sedenne perked up as Wriothesley approached his desk. “I did not expect you here today!”

“Call it a sudden impulse,” Wriothesley said. “Is Monsieur Neuvillette in his office?”

Sedenne’s head drooped. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “He is in a meeting for at least the next twenty minutes. There is a waiting room on the third floor, but you appear not to be here on business, so that seems cold… hold on just a moment, I will ask.”

The Melusine hopped out of her chair and scurried down the hall. She came back in a few minutes, with her hands in her pockets.

“Thank you for waiting!” she handed Wriothesley a key. “Monsieur says you can wait in his rooms and help yourself to his tea collection. It seems like the Maison Cardinalice’s meeting will run over, so it may be awhile.”

Wriothesley stared at the key. It was the one he’d seen Neuvillette use to get into his apartment many times by now. Neuvillette was all right with him being in his apartment alone? Wriothesley’s stomach did a funny flip as he took the elevator up, up the Palais’ main tower.

The door opened on the ninth floor for, unfortunately, Lady Furina.

“Oh no,” she said. “I mean. Your Grace! What a pleasant surprise! Are you here on business or a personal visit?”

Wriothesley raised his eyebrows. The more time he spent around the Goddess of Justice since he’d started dating Neuvillette, the less she seemed like an all-knowing, if mercurial, being of extreme power, and the more she seemed like an anxious teenaged girl.

“I stopped by on a whim, and am going to wait for Neuvillette on his floor.”

“Oh. I am… returning to my rooms.”

Which meant that Furina would be on the elevator with him the entire way up, since her suite was the highest floor, and Neuvillette’s apartment on the second-highest.

Furina kept glancing at him. Finally, she spoke. “Remind me, if you would. Was Demoiselle Navia not once close with Clorinde?”

Wriothesley nodded. Why was Furina asking him about this? “They practically grew up together, as I understand it. They don’t get along now, though, so if you need something from Spina, you’re probably better off just sending the Demoiselle an official request.”

“No, I have no need of them, I have my own people,” Furina laughed. “I was just… considering the situation.” She tapped her chin, deep in thought.

Did Furina know about Clorinde’s unrequited crush? Clorinde wasn’t exactly forthcoming with it, but that was only because she did not talk about herself on the job. Like Wriothesley, she was a private person. It was why they’d hit it off in the first place. If someone knew Clorinde, they’d easily pick up her tells. And Clorinde’s eyes rarely left Navia without good reason when she was in the same room.

“Are you feeling better?” Furina said, turning to face Wriothesley directly. “You were sick or something, right?”

“I was,” Wriothesley said, not clarifying that he was or something rather than sick. “And I am doing much better now.”

“I’ve never known Neuvillette to nurse someone back to health like that,” Furina sighed. “He must really be fond of you.”

“I would like to think so,” Wriothesley said. “Was he not so attentive with his other boyfriends?”

Furina giggled, hiding her mouth behind a gloved hand. “You know as well as I how hard it is to read him! And it is not as if I pay close attention to his personal affairs. This is the most public relationship I have known him to have, of course. But you must have picked up on this by now. The papers have very little to compare you to. I suspect you will be the only one that anyone remembers.”

It was true. Articles speculating about their relationship had mentioned that any previous romantic entanglement of Neuvillette’s was only rumor, with nothing confirmed. A nod to Neuvillette’s commitment to impartiality, or perhaps his way of protecting whoever he was with, the tabloids suggested. The strongest suspected lover of the past had been that opera singer Neuvillette mentioned– Wriothesley had, perhaps unwisely, done some research on the man. He had been very popular and the rumor that Neuvillette was secretly funding his work had persisted for many years, though Wriothesley suspect that this did timeline did not line up with exactly when the two had been together.

At least, selfishly, he hoped he wasn’t competing with someone Neuvillette had been close with for that long. Fifteen years was almost as long as Wriothesley had known him.

“But,” Furina continued, “With you as well-established as you are, it may also be that you are unlikely to be suspected of using him for power or promotion. You’re already a Duke, and in charge of a nearly entirely autonomous part of the country. What on earth could people even say?”

“I don’t mind being his most respectable boyfriend,” Wriothesley joked.

Furina frowned. “If that’s the case, please tell me you have a new suit for the Midsummer Council. I know you have other clothes! The ensemble you wore to the opera last month was even fetching. Do you want to embarrass him with that eight year old tailcoat?”

“It’s a perfectly nice tailcoat,” Wriothesley said, “But I am considering other options.”

“Good. Consider it harder. That is an order, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley thought that if his formalwear was truly this much of an issue, Neuvillette would simply have not agreed to date him, but he kept this to himself. “Of course, Lady Furina. I will think about it very seriously.”

“Well! Good.”

The elevator fell into heavy silence until the bell rang at the second-highest floor. Wriothesley half-bowed to Furina as he hurried to get through the door before it closed.

Wriothesley had been alone in Neuvillette’s apartment before, but being left in someone’s apartment after being brought there was very different from entering by himself. He hung up his coat and made tea as had been suggested. Eventually, he lost the internal battle he was having with himself and started snooping around.

There was also the temptation to get naked and wait somewhere to surprise Neuvillette, but Wriothesley didn’t know how much time Neuvillette had for him in his schedule. He could hardly put the city’s needs at a halt because he wanted a little action.

Neuvillette’s bookshelves held the expected mix of classic novels, philosophy discourses, and poetry collections that anyone in high society would be expected to own, but most of the books in the living room were about tidal shifts, ocean wildlife, and the water cycle. Wriothesley examined the bottles of water in the wine rack before lingering over the paintings in the front room.

The Fontainian landscapes, he understood, but why did Neuvillette have a painting of Liyue Harbor? Or, at least, Wriothesley assumed it was of Liyue Harbor, considering the architecture in the scene and the round green shape representing the Jade Chamber floating over the ocean in the distance. Had Neuvillette visited there, before? Or was it someplace he wanted to go? Neuvillette seemed to enjoy their water, Wriothesley remembered, but not notably more than water from other exotic sources.

The time dragged on. Curiosity got the better of Wriothesley and he went to see if the door to Neuvillette’s home office was unlocked. When it swung open, Wriothesley steeled himself before going in.

“We’re just looking around,” he reminded himself. “Not going through drawers or personal files.”

It was a rather nice home office, though it was not as grand as his office on the first floor. A glance at the bookshelves proved them to be full of legal tomes and case files. There was a painting that seemed to be made of random splashes of warm colors displayed proudly in a gold frame. On the desk was a photograph of Neuvillette surrounded by an absolute crowd of Melusines on a beach somewhere… and, in another frame, a copy of the picture Charlotte of taken of Neuvillette and Wriothesley coming out of the opera a few weeks ago. Wriothesley’s cheeks warmed to see it given such a place of honor.

There was also an envelope on Neuvillette’s desk with a return address at, of all things, a funeral parlor in Liyue Harbor. Wriothesley left the room before his curiosity could overcome his common sense.

He had returned to the sitting room to rifle through the stack of spincrystals by Neuvillette’s record player when the door finally opened and Neuvillette came inside.

“Wriothesley.” The Chief Justice was barely smiling, and his eyes were a fraction wider than normal. But, considering the much warmer-than-normal tone of voice, Wriothesley put together that this was his boyfriend’s “delighted” face.

(Even now, the wide smiles or other “big” expressions were rare and mostly occurred during sex or other more vulnerable moments.)

“Neuvillette.” Wriothesley put the record he’d been inspecting down and crossed the room to kiss him on both cheeks.

Neuvillette put his hands on Wriothesley’s shoulders to hold him there, keeping him close. “Do what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?” he asked.

Wriothesley reached up to smooth an imaginary wrinkle out of the front of his robes. “I was in the area, and I realized I never asked you about what you’re wearing to the Midsummer Council.”

“What I’m wearing?” Neuvillette blinked. “I wear my robes to the Council proper and the ball, as I do every other public function I attend. I was planning on doing the same this year. Why do you ask?”

Wriothesley shrugged. “As you like, Monsieur. If you don’t want to match, I mean, I could never force you…”

Neuvillette’s eyes widened further. “I – I could change before the ball,” he said quickly. “I have some sets of ties in coordinating fabrics– ”

Bingo.

“Well, since I’m here, I suppose we could have a look, if you have anything that’ll go with that stupid red sash I’m supposed to wear to these things,” Wriothesley said, as if this were not his idea to begin with.

Neuvillette all but dragged him into his room and started pulling ties out of drawers. “Your sash is a deeper red… would gold be all right?”

He pulled out several handfuls of shiny yellow neckties. “Perhaps you could wear the bowtie from one of these sets, and I the cravat. Oh, but your usual suit is the sort you would wear with an ordinary tie, considering the cut and the collar style…”

Wriothesley frowned. “Is me bringing out the same suit every time something everyone notices?”

“Lady Furina has remarked upon it most years since you received your title. Mostly in aside to me,” Neuvillette assured him. “I had paid no special attention to it before, other than thinking that perhaps it did not suit you as well as your usual style.”

Wriothesley picked up one of the bowties. “I think both of you are going to be pleasantly surprised~”

Neuvillette picked up a cravat cut from the same weave of silk and held it up against Wriothesley’s face. “May I know at least what color it is?”

“Black jacket. With a white shirt,” said Wriothesley.

“…”

“What?”

Neuvillette laid a hand on the side of his face. “Your tailor must find you very difficult,” he said.

“What are you talking about? Altering the same suit every year is easy. It’s this year I’ll be difficult.”

“How I wish I had the time to go through the differences between jade-black and ink-black,” Neuvillette said. “Regrettably… I have a trial I must leave for in an hour, and I must go through the case files before then.”

“My fault for dropping in unannounced. Could I catch a ride back to Erinnyes?”

Furina spent the entire carriage ride to the Opera Epiclese scowling at them. After apologizing for imposing… Wriothesley wasn’t sure how to act in front of her like this. The feeling of being disapproved by the Goddess of Justice was… not his favorite, but Neuvillette seemed entirely unaffected.

In the room behind the judge’s seat, Wriothesley and Neuvillette had a moment alone.

“Monsieur, it was nice to see you, even if I made your schedule tighter. And thanks for this,” Wriothesley said, fishing the key to Neuvillette’s apartment out of his pocket. When he tried to hand it over, though, Neuvillette put his hand over Wriothesley and gently pushed it back towards him.

“Keep it,” he said.

Chapter Text

The real reason Wriothesley hadn’t given Neuvillette more hints about his suit was that he didn’t know anything else about it himself, at the time. He hadn’t put in the order yet.

When he went to his tailor and said he wanted a tuxedo made up before the Midsummer Council, he got an earful. And yet, the man was so… relieved? … that Wriothesley was charged only triple, and not five times the price, for ordering a full suit at the height of the summer season.

“Bringing me a gold bowtie and demanding a matching tuxedo in four days is the sort of thing a man of your station ought to be doing more regularly,” the tailor scolded, glaring up at him through his bifocal lenses. “You are Fontaine’s only Duke. If causing a scandal by courting our Chief Justice is what finally makes you realize it, then so be it.”

As he’d promised, the jacket was black and the shirt was white. The pants were pale gray and tight, fitted into black boots that capped at the knee. This tuxedo, with its cropped, tail-less jacket, did nothing to hide Wriothesley’s figure. Fontaine was a nation where men showed off the turn of their calf, and thigh, when the occasion called for it, and when else was he going to show it off if not now? In the fitted, light-colored trousers, tucked into the red cummerbund that matched the red sash he’d been awarded with his rank, very little about shape and size of Wriothesley’s rear was left to the imagination.

Wriothesley never skipped leg day, and he always did his squats. He knew what his assets were.

If the Steambird’s social column was anything to go by, the good people of the Court were speculating a great deal about his relationship, both about the political implications and about the more intimate details. Since people were talking anyway, if Neuvillette wanted to flaunt him, Wriothesley was going to give them all an eyeful.

Neuvillette received an ebony-black fabric swatch with his afternoon post the next day, with a note that just said, “this color.”

On the day of the Midsummer Council, Wriothesley was unable to meet Neuvillette before the meeting. Neuvillette and Furina always presided over this meeting together, which meant they would be busy putting their agenda in order until right before it started. Wriothesley headed into the room with everyone else when the doors to the conference hall on the Palais Mermonia’s fifth floor opened.

As Duke, Wriothesley’s seat at the conference table was frustratingly visible-- near the head of the table, close to the raised platform where Furina and Neuvillette would sit. He stalked to his seat with the unbothered menace of a wolf, the way he always did. It was an act he had long since perfected since he became the Administrator. If the anxious stares that followed him were focused lower than his shoulders, and more just below his waist, well… that was the point of the outfit.

He slid into his chair between mayor of the city and the director of the opera house. Never one for small talk, he nodded to each of them and waited for the meeting to start.

Neuvillette and Furina were announced not long after. Furina entered on Neuvillette’s and let him help her up the steps to her seat.

Neuvillette glanced over to Wriothesley, and while his face remained its usual mask, Wriothesley sat up a little straighter when he saw the Chief Justice’s eyes linger on his gold bowtie.

Furina cleared her throat.

“The four hundred and second Midsummer Council will now commence.”

Wriothesley behaved himself during the council meeting, or at least, behaved as much as he usually did. Regular city affairs were out of his hands, but he wasn’t afraid to interrupt and cut someone off if they tried to edge into his territory, or if they said something patently stupid. They had a lot of ground to cover and so many of these rich businessmen had no idea what they were talking about when it came to these matters.

Hours later, as the sun was setting, several issues had been addressed and the meeting was over, with several policies half-drafted, to be finalized on later dates. Wriothesley waited for Neuvillette to look at him before he stood. The way Neuvillette’s eyes widened just a little and slid over Wriothesley’s backside in those tight trousers did wonders for his ego, and for his mood after sitting in this stuffy room full of people arguing. He smirked and shifted his weight onto one hip, watching Neuvillette’s eyes follow him.

Before he could go talk to him, though, Neuvillette was swarmed by Maison Ordinalise officials who wanted to schedule follow-up meetings for the discussion points of the meeting, and Wriothesley had a feeling it would be awhile before Neuvillette could extricate himself to go prepare for the ball. Wriothesley settled for turning and walking out slowly, knowing Neuvillette would either be watching or forcing himself not to stare.

“You are going to kill him,” Sedenne remarked as Wriothesley passed her at the door, her mitten-shaped hands on her hips.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wriothesley said, flashing her an easy grin.

He headed out with the other guests to head towards the reception room, where the attendees who did not live nearby would wait until the ball could start. As much as Wriothesley liked the idea of watching Neuvillette dress, he knew that Neuvillette would be entering the ballroom with Furina. He could only be here as Neuvillette’s plus-one once the reception was formally started.

The ballroom doors opened soon enough, and people started to fill in. Furina would wait until she deemed enough people had arrived to make her grand entrance, which could be an entire hour. Wriothesley helped himself to a glass of wine and waited. A few people greeted him in passing, and more than a few did a double-take at his suit, but his reputation kept them away enough that no one bothered him.

When the room was crowded enough that the polite, muted conversations had become a dull roar, the double doors at the top of the stairs at one end of the ballroom were flung open. The musicians played a fanfare as Furina entered the room, with Neuvillette on her arm.

Furina’s gown was made of deep blue silk with white satin stitched to it in a way that resembled seafoam, and a long train resembling a cloud of bubbles. And Neuvillette…

Neuvillette’s suit was white with gold and black accents. His frock coat had long, frilled tails that revealed the shimmering black lining on the inside of the jacket. His hair had been pulled up, even curled, his long tresses settled over his shoulders like a cape, his rhinophores trailing behind him.

He looked like a prince from a fairytale. Wriothesley’s tongue felt dry in his mouth.

“Announcing your Archon, Focalors!” Lady Furina cheered, sweeping an arm out towards the crowd. The room erupted into applause. When it died down, Furina spoke again, her voice booming out towards the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you, everyone. You all do your Goddess such a favor by coming out for this gathering. As always, I will open the ball with the first dance. My partner for tonight… will be my bodyguard, Dame Clorinde.”

Clorinde stepped out from behind the door, elegant and stunning in her dress uniform. The room filled with shocked whispers. Furina had never opened a ball with a dance partner other than Neuvillette, even if she often danced with other people later. Was this a declaration of her starting a relationship with Clorinde? Had Neuvillette done something to upset Furina?

Clorinde, unbothered by the whispers, offered Furina her hand, and the two came down the stairs together. A waltz began to play, and the two took position.

Furina was spun and lifted and swirled across the floor as if gliding over water. Clorinde held herself like a swordswoman while she led the dance, but that meant that her footwork and posture were perfect. In her arms, Furina became a sword as much as she was a girl, and her breathless smile drew the gazes of the onlookers in.

It was when Furina danced past Wriothesley and winked at him that he finally put it together. She was dancing with Clorinde now so Wriothesley could be the one to dance with Neuvillette. Considering that Neuvillette was not known to dance at balls outside of opening with Furina, Wriothesley might even be the only person to dance with Neuvillette.

On the other end of the room, Wriothesley saw Navia, accompanied by her two guards as always. She was watching Clorinde spin Furina around the floor with red eyes that threatened to spill over with tears.

Neuvillette, forgotten for the duration of the song, was quietly making his way down the stairs and through the crowd. It was at the last notes played that he reached Wriothesley.

“Your Grace,” he said softly. “You look… very well.”

His hand settled on the small of Wriothesley’s back. Wriothesley turned to look at him, leaning back into the touch.

“Just last week, you seemed to want to show me off,” he said.

Neuvillette leaned in closer. “I did,” he murmured. “Would you have this next dance with me, Your Grace?”

“Monsieur, I would like nothing more.”

They joined hands and came out onto the floor. This song was a galopade: fast, full of both leaps and pauses where they would hold together. A few other couples joined them as they took position, but a great number of the people gathered for the ball… watched.

“You mentioned it has been some time since you danced,” Neuvillette murmured. “I will not lead you into anything too spontaneous.”

Wriothesley laughed. “I am begging you to show me you being spontaneous. I remember how to galopade.”

“Very well, then.”

They took off across the floor. Wriothesley was familiar with the galopade, but he had mostly learned to lead. It was a good thing he was so used to thinking on his feet in a fight, and a better thing that Neuvillette’s steps were so sure.

It was a constant reminder of how strong Neuvillette was. When they jumped together, Wriothesley felt weightless. He remembered all the times Neuvillette had picked him up effortlessly as carrying a doll. It felt different, now, held close to Neuvillette dressed like an operatic lead, with the eyes of the top of Fontaine’s society on them. This was somehow the most sensual being lifted by Neuvillette had ever been, even though usually, when he picked Wriothesley up, he was carrying him to bed.

The music got faster. Wriothesley adjusted his steps, matching Neuvillette’s pace. Neuvillette was only a little taller than him, but he was wearing mid-heeled shoes, and Wriothesley had flat boots on. Looking up at him like this, Wriothesley’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding.

“I should have known you would dance well, considering your skill with footwork when we had our match,” Neuvillette said, his voice light. Anyone who overheard would think they were discussing a badminton match and not a brawl that ended with Wriothesley being choked out on the Pankration ring floor and stuffed full of eggs. Wriothesley shivered, ever so slightly. The grip on the back of his waist tightened.

“You flatter me, Monsieur. It is almost as if you want something from me,” Wriothesley teased.

“Well, Your Grace. You wished to see me act spontaneously?”

On the next leap, rather than jumping with him, Neuvillette lifted Wriothesley into the air. There was an echo behind him of gasps and muttered words.

Wriothesley stepped in closer when Neuvillette brought him back down, grinning. “And you finally get to show me off.”

They reached the halt in the steps before the next turn. Neuvillette leaned forward, holding Wriothesley’s waist more firmly, and Wriothesley took the hint and let Neuvillette dip him. For one long moment, Wriothesley was floating in Neuvillette’s arms. With his weight supported by Neuvillette’s hand, could feel claws poking into his back through Neuvillette’s gloves.

Neuvillette pulled him back up and they fell back into the ordinary steps.

“You told me I look all right, but I haven’t had the chance to say how far I’ve been outclassed,” Wriothesley said. “I’m going to be thinking about you in this outfit for a long, long time.”

Neuvillette’s fingers tightened where they wove together with Wriothesley’s. “Or you could simply wait until later tonight,” he said, too quietly for anyone to overhear. “I daresay, with you in such a flattering suit, I am the one who will be thinking over tonight again in the future.”

He pulled Wriothesley into a spin. Under the weight of his eyes on him, Wriothesley should have been pinned in place, but his feet moved and he turned anyway. When Wriothesley was pulled back in, he caught Neuvillette’s eyes quickly snapping back up to the level of his face.

Neuvillette had been watching Wriothesley’s ass while he turned. Even with all these people here, he was still getting Neuvillette so riled up. He was going to absolutely ruin him later.

The song ended, and the next one began. Neuvillette gently pulled Wriothesley to a stop and let go of his hands.

“I would be willing to take another turn with you later,” he said, “But I believe I will need… a moment.”

“You couldn’t be tired already,” Wriothesley hummed, “I’ve seen you fight.”

Neuvillette offered his arm. “We have made our statement, and there are certain people I would like to check in with before I become too… distracted.”

“Distracted, you say,” Wriothesley chuckled.

He looped his arm through Neuvillette’s and let him lead him away. He was brought to a table overlooking the main floor of the ballroom, where several older Fontainians were already sat. Wriothesley recognized the three most venerated Junior Justices (all of whom were older than fifty, but none of whom were nearly as old as Neuvillette), the mayor of the Court City, and Madame Dugrand, the head of the Maison Cardinalice, and her second husband.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, Your Grace,” Justice Thibert said, gesturing to a set of empty chairs, his bushy eyebrows raised as he gave the pair an appraising look, “We were just wondering when you would join us.”

“Oh, so we had to wait one song for Monsieur Neuvillette to sit, instead of two,” scoffed Mayor Chanteur. “Let the man have a bit of fun once in awhile.”

Wriothesley remembered reading that these two men had gone to school together. The papers tended to oscillate on whether this made them secret lovers or bitter rivals. Wriothesley had not observed either of them personally enough to be sure which theory was more true. Either way, if one of them dipped their fingers into a matter of politics, the other would shortly follow suit.

“Monsieur is a man of duty,” Wriothesley said, “But in these social gatherings, he would also have a duty towards the man he is escorting, would he not?”

“I suppose it is not a role any of you would expect to see me play.” Neuvillette patted Wriothesley’s hand where it laid on his arm. The leading figures of Fontaine gathered at this table raised their eyebrows, but Neuvillette only pulled out Wriothesley’s chair for him to sit before doing the same.

“So,” said Mayor Chanteur, “What does the happy couple think of the proposed tax reforms? Neither of you seemed to have any input on the subject.”

“The imports tax?” Wriothesley reached to pour himself some wine. He looked at Neuvillette’s empty glass, then picked up the glass bottle of water on the table and uncorked it. “Prioritizing raw materials from inside Fontaine benefits Meropide, but I didn’t need to say it for people to know that. We’ve managed with the prices of ore as they are, though, so I believe this change will be a much bigger windfall to the Research Institute and other manufacturers. Here you are, Monsieur.”

He poured Neuvillette a glass of water. Neuvillette nodded to him and picked it up, cradling the bowl of the glass in his hand. He swirled it gently, creating a tiny whirlpool in the middle of the glass, and then took a small sip.

“They really have outdone themselves,” he sighed, and then he took another, longer drink.

The other guests at the table watched. They must have been acquainted enough with Neuvillette to know about his hobbies, because none of them asked him to clarify what he meant, and Wriothesley thought he saw Madame Dugrand roll her eyes.

“Outdone themselves?” Wriothesley asked. “Maybe I should have gone for that first before I tried the wine.”

Neuvillette turned to him. “Ah, forgive me, I seem to have been distracted. This is an incredibly clear and bright draught from the North of Monstadt,” he explained. “I believe they must have collected it from the waterfall at the edge of the Stormbearer Mountains. It still even retains some of that frothiness. I shall have to ask the Chief Steward how this was stored.”

“Does agitating it like that do anything for the flavor?” asked Justice Fortou, who seemed to be trying not to laugh, for how her cheeks colored rapidly under her face powder.

Neuvillette swirled the glass again. “I am afraid not. I was only admiring the clarity.”

“Is that so,” Madame Dugrand’s second husband (what was his name again?) tittered, “If only the rest of us had such… discerning pallets.”

Neuvillette took another sip, unbothered. Wriothesley couldn’t tell if Neuvillette didn’t realize these people were making fun of him, or if he simply didn’t care. Either way, it bothered Wriothesley, and he found himself reaching for Neuvillette’s hand to take the glass from him.

“Let me try,” he said softly, letting their fingers brush.

Neuvillette stilled, staring at him, and let Wriothesley steal his glass. Wriothesley couldn’t bring himself to try swirling it – such a thing looked elegant on someone like Neuvillette, but he knew he would just look silly – but he brought the glass to his lips, never looking away from Neuvillette’s eyes, and took a slow sip, pursing his lips as if blowing a kiss. He heard either Madame Dugrand or Justice Fortou gasp.

It tasted like water.

Try as he might, Wriothesley still could not really taste specific differences from different types. However… he could sort, almost, feel that lightness Neuvillette described from the waterfall. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, or Wriothesley was imagining it after the picture he painted with his words.

He handed the glass back. “I think the Dragonspine snowmelt you opened with me is still my favorite,” he decided.

This was the thing that made Neuvillette blush.

“Wriothesley,” he said, “We are with company.”

Everyone at the table was staring at them openly now. The Dugrands and the Mayor seemed scandalized, while the three Junior Justices were looking at Neuvillette as if he were an especially difficult word in the Sunday Steambird’s crossword puzzle.

“You two suit each other,” Justice Suprenant, who had not spoken until this moment, said decidedly. Justices Thibert and Fortou nodded slowly, their brows furrowed.

Wriothesley picked his wine back up. “I wasn’t aware I was on trial here,” he said.

Justice Thibert laughed. “Now, now, we usually sit with Neuvillette at these things. We hardly have time to talk outside of work otherwise. Especially with some young lord taking up all of his free time.”

“You could say this is more of a hearing,” joked Justice Suprenant. “I understand this position has been empty for some time, so of course there was a certain… curiosity.”

“A hearing,” Justice Fortou said, “Gervais, you’re awful. You’re just mad you’re the only one of us who’s still single.”

The Mayor cleared his throat. “Monsieur Neuvillette, I have been meaning to ask you about this year’s Fontinalia festival. I heard a rumor we may be expecting some high-profile guests during the season…”

Conversation drifted back to politics. It seemed that Justice Thibert’s remark that this group took time to speak with each other about business during social events had been true, because the six of them spoke freely and comfortably. Wriothesley gave his opinion when it was asked, but did not speak much otherwise, more interested at a glimpse in this side of Neuvillette: the Chief Justice outside of Court proceedings.

Madame Dugrand’s husband was almost entirely quiet. He piped up once in awhile to agree with his wife, but otherwise was apparently content to nibble at his plate and listen. The one time he spoke up, it was to refute Wriothesley–

“I do not think more support of the public schools would help so much as increasing overall subsidies for the scientists already accredited,” he said softly, “But what would I know, Your Grace? You and I are only here to be looked at.”

Wriothesley paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. Madame Dugrand giggled into her wineglass, and her husband smiled shyly, pressing into her side. The others said nothing, and Neuvillette… frowned.

“I believe Lady Furina has finally sat down,” he said. “I must attend to her sometime before the performances start.”

He stood, abruptly, and held out his arm for Wriothesley. He put his hand in the crook of Neuvillette’s elbow, but his movements felt slow. Even as they left, headed for Furina’s table, it was as if Wriothesley was wading through deep water.

It had been a long time since anyone had ever said anything like that to Wriothesley. Longer than he’d been an adult, even.

“Monsieur Dugrand forgot himself,” Neuvillette said quietly. “You are invited to the Council every year for your rank and your achievements. I do not understand why he thought that comment would contribute to the conversation.”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Wriothesley, “Maybe he’s jealous because he’s only here as a plus-one. Or because he wouldn’t look as good in this suit as I do. If those are his priorities.”

He shook himself out and remembered to smile. “I’ll be fine.”

And he knew that it was true. He’d heard far worse from people much scarier than Monsieur Dugrand. He had just been startled, that was all.

Furina was seated in a large, throne-like chair at the head of her table, with Clorinde standing just behind her. While Neuvillette had been sitting with other judges and the Mayor, Furina was flocked by socialites and performers who were frequently seen onstage at the Opera Epiclese. All the tables in the ballroom were loaded with sweets, but this table was straining under the weight of enormous marzipan replicas of the Palais Mermonia and the Opera Epiclese.

“And so my wayward Iudex returns to me,” the Goddess of Justice sighed, “That was quite the show you put on earlier! I never knew the galopade could have so much… variation. What a relief it is to see that you do, at times, know how to enjoy yourself. And Your Grace! I am pleased to see you in a suit from this decade. Your tailor must have been twice as relieved as I.”

“He scolded me for the rush job, but I realized that if I didn’t act, I might embarrassed Monsieur Neuvillette,” Wriothesley said, plastering on his most self-deprecating smile. This earned a round of chuckles from the table.

Furina’s smile turned for the more genuine as she offered her hand for Wriothesley to kiss. “Well, you two have done very well for yourselves. Please, sit. Someone move over– ”

The two contraltos sitting closest to Furina scooted away as if pulled back by the tide, and two chairs were rushed up for Wriothesley and Neuvillette to sit.

“Monsieur Gilde was just discussing the development on his next release,” Furina said, gesturing to a well-dressed man with a very curly mustache.

“Ah, yes. Sterne and I are in the midst of adapting the famous Rex Incognito. We have been writing back and forth with the director of Liyue Harbor’s Yun-Han troupe to best discuss how to properly arrange the score for a Fontainian audience’s ears…”

The conversation at this table was lighter, and Furina was an effortless host. She seemed to be especially favoring a handsome ballet dancer seated to her left with her questions, but otherwise, she facilitated conversation flowing over a myriad of subjects related to the arts and recent social developments. In such a crowd, Wriothesley and Neuvillette were less the focus, and Wriothesley gradually started to relax again.

It was in this state, lulled by an argument between Furina and Monsieur Sterne over the merits of two different rhyming schemes, when Wriothesley saw a flash of white hair on the other side of the ballroom. A long, pale mane moved like a whip as the person it was attached to disappeared through a door.

Was Arleccino here? Fatui Harbingers were often styled as ambassadors, so he knew it wouldn’t be out of place for her to have received an invitation for at least the ball if she were in town, but why would she come here? She had been operating quietly for all this time, which was the only reason Wriothesley hadn’t known who she was until she approached him. Was she changing her strategy now that Wriothesley had denied her offer? What was she doing here, if not to put pressure on Wriothesley?

While Wriothesley’s thoughts spiraled out of control, staring in that direction, the door reopened, and the white-haired woman came back into the room, now with another, taller woman on her arm, who was drinking red wine straight from the bottle.

It wasn’t Arleccino. This woman’s hair was a similar shade, but she seemed to be from Liyue, based on both her face and the style of her shimmering purple dress.

“Furina,” Neuvillette leaned over to whisper, “Why is the Tianquan here?”

“She isn’t,” Furina muttered back, “Officially, that is Captain Beidou’s plus-one, a lady of the gentry from Liyue Harbor. I asked if you were curious about the beautiful lady captain who sent me an outright request for an invitation and you said no!”

The most prominent of Liyue’s Qixing was here as some ship captain’s date in secret?

“I suppose she must want to relax, after everything Liyue went through this year– oh my.”

The ship captain set her wine bottle on a waiter’s tray and pulled the Tianquan onto the dance floor. It was immediately obvious that the Tianquan was familiar with the steps of this quadrille, and the ship captain, who was leading, was not.

“Maybe that is why they are here together in secret,” Furina lilted. “Perhaps she is training her until she can be brought into Liyue’s society?”

She nudged Neuvillette with her elbow. “The song is almost over. Perhaps someone ought to show her how a true Fontainian dances.”

Neuvillette sighed. “Perhaps you could do such a thing.”

“Oh, no. I am famished, and I’ve barely touched my cake…” Furina simpered. She gave Wriothesley a hopeful look.

Wriothesley cleared his throat. “Neuvillette,” he said, loud enough that the others could hear, “All of these sweets are making me restless. Would you take another turn with me?”

It was more that the strange looks he was getting and mistaking someone for Arleccino that had him on edge, that it made sitting still painful. Dancing might clear his head almost as well as a fight would, especially if the next song was fast.

Neuvillette took his hand, a smile spreading across his face. “I will. Thank you, Wriothesley.”

Furina grinned and mouthed ‘well done’ over Neuvillette’s shoulder. Giggles and soft whispered rippled around the table at the sight of Neuvillette smiling.. They headed back to the center of the room as the mazurka ended and the next song began to play.

It was a waltz. Wriothesley stepped in closer as it began and danced almost hip to hip with Neuvillette.

“Are you all right?” Neuvillette asked, speaking into his ear. “You seemed startled earlier.”

Wriothesley shrugged. “Thought I saw someone. I was wrong,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

“You said that earlier.” Neuvillette moved his hand on Wriothesley’s back to squeeze his shoulder.

“Ah, well. You know I usually leave these things early. They aren’t exactly my… thing.” He smiled for him, leaned in closer.

“I only stuck around this time to be seen with you,” he said. He let his breath puff over Neuvillette’s neck, where he knew he would feel it against his gills, even through the collar of his shirt.

Neuvillette’s hand dug into his back again, this time with a hint of claws pressing into his skin. “Wriothesley… don’t teassse me here.”

The soft hiss in his voice turned Wriothesley’s budding anxiety into a floating giddiness.

“Why? It’s working. Maybe I want to get you so turned on we both have to leave early,” he said.

“I cannot do that… you know this,” Neuvillette said. “There are… expectationsss of me.”

Wriothesley looked up at him, eyes wide with false innocence. “Are you sure you can’t? Think about how much more I can do for you while the night is young, before I get tired…”

He flew himself out into a spin, and allowed Neuvillette to real him back in twice as fast. When his chest hit Neuvillette’s, Wriothesley smiled up at him, and it was Neuvillette’s breath that caught in his throat.

“Wriothhhesssssley… this is work,” Neuvillette protested, even as his claws dug into Wriothesley’s back, his hand pushing lower, until it rested against the small of his back. The hand that held Wriothesley’s clutched tightly at his fingers.

The music was getting faster. Wriothesley give Neuvillette his most winning, secret smile and decided to push his luck. Neuvillette’s cheeks were flushed, from either the dance or how much Wriothesley was getting to him. If he could get him this aggravated in a crowd of so many people, what would he do when Wriothesley had him alone? Even through layers and layers of silk, Wriothesley could feel the heat rolling off of Neuvillette’s body.

No one else in the room knew what Neuvillette’s expressions and gestures meant. But Wriothesley knew. They were in front of their Goddess and everyone, and Neuvillette only had eyes for him. Wriothesley was his. And everyone could see.

And everyone was talking. Whispers rose around them, almost an accompaniment to the orchestra.

“– didn’t know the Chief Justice could dance like that–”

“Doesn’t he cut quite the figure!”

“– wrapped around his little finger– ”

“– how obscene.”

Everyone could see.

Everyone was watching him, Wriothesley realized.

He was wearing a tight outfit and had put himself on display. Neuvillette had him in his hands, but Wriothesley did not know most of these people. He could only guess what they were thinking.

To them, did Wriothesley look like a pet? Some pretty thing Neuvillette now owned? No matter how Wriothesley had earned his title and gotten into society, into this room, all the skills he used in these places were things he was taught in preparation for being sold.

Wriothesley stumbled on the next turn. He smiled apologetically and let Neuvillette guide him to better footing. The dance was rapid now, couples whirling about the floor. A moment ago, the room had only seemed to be him and Neuvillette, but now, a million eyes were watching him, and it weighed down his steps.

Wriothesley was exposed.

He didn’t have his gauntlets.

Anyone could be in this crowd.

He tripped again when the music got faster. Neuvillette caught him, and started to hold him more firmly.

“Wriothesley?” he asked. “Are you too unused to dancing after all?”

Neuvillette couldn’t tell what was going on in Wriothesley’s mind. His heart was loud in his ears, drowning out the music, but how could Neuvillette hear that? He had broken into a cold sweat, but how could Neuvillette tell when he wore such thick gloves?

Wriothesley misstepped a third time and fell against Neuvillette’s chest. He looked up at him, to apologize, to try and ask for help, something, but no sound came out of his mouth.

And how could he ask for help? He wasn’t safe here. There were too many people. Too many strangers. Looking at Wriothesley like they could have a piece of him. Wriothesley’s vision swam before his eyes, colors shifting and blurring together.

His hand was shaking in Neuvillette’s. His other, at Neuvillette’s back, clutched at his coattails.

Whatever Neuvillette saw when he looked back at him, it made him turn them towards the edge of the crowd. He half-danced him off the floor and led him through the throng of people. Wriothesley didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to run either, to show that he was weak to these strangers. What if Arleccino was here somewhere, watching, or any of Wriothesley’s countless other enemies?

Neuvillette unlocked a door in the side of a wall, gesturing for the Garde on duty there to let them through.

“Let’s get you some space,” he said quietly.

They came out onto a balcony. It was cooler out here, and Wriothesley heaved in greedy lungfuls of cold air. He clutched at the balcony railing until he felt it start to bend.

Clouds rumbled overhead.

“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette said, “What happened?”

“I– ” Wriothesley tried, but he couldn’t find any more words. He shook his head and glanced up at the sky.

“No– Wriothesley, do not worry about the weather right now. Did you see someone? Did you hear something?”

He sounded so earnest. Now that he was away from it all, Wriothesley thought that this was stupid. No one was going to attack him in a crowded ballroom. But those stares…

“Just… needed air,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll be… fine. In a minute.”

“Wriothesley…” Neuvillette touched the side of his face. Wriothesley tensed, rather than leaning into it. Even though he didn’t push him away, Neuvillette hesitated before cupping his cheek in his glove.

“Please. If you cannot explain it to me, tell me how to help.”

Neuvillette was right. Wriothesley could not explain. How could the dragon, the chief justice, know what it felt like to be a piece of meat?

“… I don’t want to go back in there. But I’ve already caused quite a scene. If I disappear now, people will think something’s wrong and panic. Important people can’t be scared in public.”

Neuvillette frowned. “But you are– ?”

The door to the balcony opened. “Monsieur Neuvillette– ” said someone.

Wriothesley froze. Who was that? No one could see him like this. If anyone knew he was weak, he would have to fight to keep them away, and there were so many people in the ballroom–

Neuvillette acted quickly. He took Wriothesley in his arms and kissed him, hard. Wriothesley startled, but he groaned out of habit and grabbed handfuls of his tailcoat, holding onto him like a lifeline. He still couldn’t breathe very well.

A soft giggle from the intruder. “Oh, my! And so early. I will let everyone know not to look for you~ ”

Neuvillette released Wriothesley as soon as the door closed again. Wriothesley realized, dazed, that the voice of their voyeur had been that of Baroness de Lis, who was the peerage’s most aggressive gossip. If she had seen Wriothesley in the state he was in, the damage would be immeasurable.

“Forgive me,” Neuvillette said. “I know this is not the time. I– could not think of another way to get her to leave.”

Wriothesley shook his head. His hands relaxed, and while his heart still hammered at his chest hard enough to bruise, his breathing was evening out.

“That means... we can stay out here a little longer, right?” he asked.

Neuvillette nodded, still holding him close. “We have… an alibi now,” he said. “I would go and fetch you some tea if I thought you would be left alone up here.”

“No,” Wriothesley said, “Stay. Please.”

He leaned against him and let Neuvillette rub his back, stroke his hair even though it would mess with the style he’d whipped it into.

The more he calmed down, now that they were alone, the more ashamed Wriothesley felt. He’d gone into this ball with his head held high, feeling like a stud, happy to show off and taunt the world that it was because he looked this good that he managed to pull the Monsieur Neuvillette. But once he felt too aware of their gazes, every pair of eyes that looked at him may as well have been hands grabbing at him, prodding, poking, touching where they shouldn’t.

“Just… overreacted again,” Wriothesley mumbled. “Nothing happened.”

“I have trouble believing it was nothing,” Neuvillette said.

Wriothesley shrugged. “… Sorry I ruined the dance. I can go again in a minute. I won’t fuck it up this time.”

“Ruined?” Neuvillette said. “Wriothesley, as far as anyone in there can tell, I was overcome with lust simply dancing with you, and was then immediately caught… necking with you on a balcony. On only the third dance of the evening. If the goal was to give off the impression of a happy relationship, I believe we have done that.”

“Or I’ve made everyone question your ability to judge impartially again,” Wriothesley said. “Fontaine’s Iudex’s Motivations Clearly Swayed By Sex. What Does This Mean For Past Rulings?”

“That argument will not hold. I have not gone to bed with anyone else after convicting them for anything,” Neuvillette said. “If you truly do not wish to go back into the ballroom, I suppose we could scale the Palais the sixteen floors between here and my rooms. There will be… some explaining to do, if anyone sees, of course, but I am willing to do it if you prefer.”

“… No,” Wriothesley said. “I don’t want them to think you’re that much of a beast for wanting me. Let’s go back in looking just a little ruffled. In a minute. We’ll let them believe we needed to make out a little to collect ourselves. It was a good idea.”

He leaned further into Neuvillette’s chest. Now that he wasn’t actively panicking, the night air on a balcony several stories up felt chilly, even in the summer.

“I wanted to stay with you until you normally would’ve left,” he grumbled. “You always have to stay here the whole time.”

“… You may find that some of the unpleasant things I do,” said Neuvillette, “Are not in my job description, but rather because I could not summon a proper excuse through human etiquette.”

Wriothesley smiled a little into Neuvillette’s waistcoat. “So you don’t like these things either, you just don’t have a good reason to leave?”

“I… would not put it that way, necessarily. I do good business at many of these events, and I enjoy many of the performances. But tonight, after this, I would rather leave with you.”

“Oh.” He would set aside something that important for him? As far as he was concerned, Wriothesley had practically jumped at a shadow. It wasn’t worth losing Neuvillette the opportunity to network, or his chance to see whatever players were on.

“You.. don’t have to do that,” Wriothesley said.

Neuvillette pulled back to frown at him. “Forcing you to stay at the ball after this would… have an impact on the weather. Would you wish to make me stay, were you in my situation?”

Wriothesley’s jaw dropped. “Who taught you the put yourself in my shoes line?” He protested.

“I have heard it in court many times from the defendants. How about this?” He put his hands on Wriothesley’s shoulders. “I will walk you to my rooms, where you will have privacy, and you may rest. I will go back to the ball to check in with some of my associates, but only for awhile. After this, I will return to you, earlier than I would usually leave the ball, but not so early that I am considered to have abandoned the event. If you feel up to returning to the ball before I come back upstairs, you certainly can.”

Wriothesley thought about it, then nodded. He didn’t want to hang around in there until it was polite for Neuvillette to go. And he didn’t love the idea of being alone until two in the morning, either.

“That works,” he said.

The two went back into the ballroom. Wriothesley knew he was still being watched, but he was able to more or less handle it now that he was on his way out of the room. He nodded to Furina on his way out and let Neuvillette take him to the elevator.

He fully intended to take a bath, but the second Wriothesley sat on the bed to take his boots off, he fell backwards, groaning at the feeling of his body sinking into the mattress.

“Wake me when you come back,” he told Neuvillette, and before he even heard Neuvillette’s answer, he was asleep.

Wriothesley awoke alone in Neuvillette’s bedroom to the sound of rain gently tapping against the windows. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes, he saw the city stretched out below the windows, the thousand lights from peoples’ homes fuzzy yellow spots stretching across the ground. With so many lights still on, Wriothesley’s nap could have only been a few hours. He peered at the clock in the dark room, barely making out that it was a quarter to ten in the evening. Usually, on the night of a ball, Wriothesley would be home in Meropide by now. The party would still be in full swing, which meant Wriothesley had plenty of time to go back downstairs and make another appearance if he wanted to.

Did he want to? Wriothesley flopped back onto the bed and thought it over. Neuvillette had said he was fine in there on his own. But Wriothesley was his boyfriend, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he supposed to… support him?

Not to mention that it was raining. If the weather was like this because Neuvillette was worried about him, Wriothesley could show him that he was feeling a lot better now. He nerves still felt raw, maybe, but he was a lot calmer. And if it was raining because Neuvillette was in some other sort of trouble, well, maybe Wriothesley could help him.

He wasn’t looking forward to it, but he could show his face a little. Maybe say something just barely still appropriate and get Neuvillette back upstairs.

He looked at his reflectiong in the mirror and frowned. He wasn’t going down there in this outfit when he’d panicked partly because of how revealing it felt. He boxed shirtless in the Pankration ring all the time, but he didn’t savor the idea of half the eyes in Tevyat following his ass when he went back into the ballroom.

Wriothesley took off his blazer and opened Neuvillette’s wardrobe. None of Neuvillette’s jackets, perfectly tailored to the taller, thinner-shouldered man, would fit Wriothesley, but he could wear one over his shoulders like a cape. He picked one that seemed close enough to the same shade of black, finger-combed his hair, and got back into the elevator.

Exiting the elevator into the warm-lit corridor that led to the ballroom, he all but tripped over someone half his size who had been hurrying down the hall.

“Sorry, sorry I didn’t mean to bump into – I mean – Your Grace?”

It was a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen at the oldest, of very slight stature. He had freckles and pale hair that fell around his chin, tucked under a formal beret. Wriothesley felt like he’d seen him somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember when.

“Slow down, kid. Are you all right?” Wriothesley held up both hands, showing he meant no harm. The boy looked nervous, staring up at him.

“I – I just – I can’t find the bathroom in there,” he said. He was shaking like a leaf. His face was red. And every word that fell out of his mouth seemed to come faster. “There’s so many doors but they all go to those little lounge areas and I came across someone in a private moment – so I thought I’d just take the elevator and use the one on the first floor that visitors in the daytime use – it’s just so crowded here and I didn’t feel like I could just ask– ”

“The first floor bathroom should be open, but there’s one at the end of this hall.” Wriothesley started to walk that way, waving for the boy to follow. Maybe it was just that he was still on high alert, but something about this didn’t feel right.

“Oh, Your Grace, you really don’t have to– ”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Wriothesley insisted. “I need to check this damn thing’s still tied right anyway.”

He gestured to his bowtie. The boy sighed and fell into step.

“First time here, I take it?” Wriothesley asked. He looked a little young to attend a ball. Maybe that was what seemed off to him.

“Oh. Y-yes. I’m actually here as my brother’s plus-one. He’s performing tonight and he said I could come if I helped him carry his equipment here. I didn’t know it would be this crowded or this fancy…”

That’s right, later into the night, the dancing would pause and there would be shows, mostly musical performances.

“What does he play?” maybe talking would calm the boy down. All his jittering was making Wriothesley nervous too.

“Oh, no he doesn’t play – I mean – he’s a magician.” the smile that flashed across the young face was nervous, but proud. “He’s really talented. My sister too. If you’re headed back in, they were just about to start, so if you hurry– ”

They stopped in front of the mens’ bathroom. Wriothesley went to the mirror to retie his tie and the boy hurried into one of the stalls.

He frowned at his reflection. Did he really look so scary that he could scare teenagers even when he was dressed up? He shrugged and headed back out.

He pushed open the doors to reenter the ballroom and told himself this would be fine. Strolling back into the ballroom two hours later with his hair mussed, wearing another jacket, he got stares, but at least he wasn’t wrapped up like a present anymore. He took on his lone-wolf strut and told himself this would be fine. He told himself that he was back in control.

A few glances were passed his way, but the guests still here were well settled in. Those who especially enjoyed dancing or who were courting vigorously were still dancing about a smaller portion of the floor, but a greater number of the guests had moved to the upper part of the ballroom, where the stage was set up.

Wriothesley spotted Neuvillette sitting at Furina’s table and made his way to him.

“Room for one more?” he murmured.

“Just sit in his lap,” Furina giggled, earning a chorus of resounding giggles from others at the table.

“Now, now,” called a voice from the stage, “If it’s that funny, Lady Furina, everyone will think you’re the one putting on a show!”

Laughter rang across the audience. The speaker was a man in a short, tight black costume and a tall top hat. Behind him, a rope was rising in the air, as if being tugged by an invisible hand. A girl with cat ears and a tail was pacing around the slack part of the rope as it uncoiled.

“Lyney, you’re doing it wrong,” she sighed, “It’s supposed to go counterclockwise.”

“Oh, I’m sure that doesn’t really make much of a difference.” The magician – Lyney – picked his hat up and tossed it, catching it on his arm and rolling it over his shoulders. “Must you always undermine me in front of the audience, Lynette?”

Someone pulled up a chair for Wriothesley and he sat. Neuvillette took his hand under the table.

“You seem rested,” he said quietly, while the magician and his assistant kept arguing on the stage.

Wriothesley leaned against him. “Yeah. The rain woke me up. Anything interesting happen while I napped?”

“Nothing in particular. I was asked where you went a few times. I reminded them you had already stayed longer than you normally do. I was asked about your tailor.”

Onstage, the magician was chasing his assistant around the rising rope as it uncoiled. She had taken his hat.

“Lynette! Come back here!”

“Nyeow!” Lynette put the hat on her head and scrambled up the rope, exactly the way a cat would run up a tree. The audience laughed.

“Come down from there right now!” Lyney tried to climb the rope after her, but in his hands, the rope swung in his hands, limp, while the part of the rope Lynette clung to stayed mostly still. Lyney scowled and shook the rope. Lynette didn’t move.

“… Lyney,” she said, her eyes wide, “I don’t know how to come down.”

“Oh, no. You’re stuck? Do I have to call the Fire Brigade?”

“No! No don’t do that! That’s embarrassing! Just toss me my Vision!”

“That would be cheating! Just jump! You always land on your feet, right?”

Lynette hissed at him, bristling, and started climbing higher up the rope, until she reached the top and was grabbing at air. Panicking, she reached down to grab the rope.

It twisted in her hands, pulling her just a little further towards the ground. “… Huh.”

She started coiling the rope, slowly pulling herself down. When she was only six feet in the air, she jumped, tumbled, and sprang up to give a bow. The rope fell to the ground behind her, and the room echoed in the applause.

Neuvillette was clapping too, as thunderously as the rest. The corner of his mouth tilted up, his brow relaxed.

“Wriothesley, did you see that?” he said softly.

He smiled wider. Wriothesley realized that this was Neuvillette being amazed.

Wriothesley grinned back. “Yeah. That was pretty impressive.”

Furina leaned over. “My word. If even Neuvillette holds these two in such high regard, perhaps we will have to invite them back sometime.”

Neuvillette narrowed his eyes. “We should be quiet. They are setting up the next trick.”

The show continued on. Lyney took his hat back from his sister, and a barrage of cards shot out, only to turn into doves, which Lynette had to catch. Lynette proclaimed she was tired, and so she crawled into a box, and Lyney held a finger to his lips to shush the audience to saw the box in half. He carried half the box to the other side of the stage, only for Lynette to sit up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. She stretched, and her legs stretched out of the other half the box, too, fifteen feet away. She frowned at the magician and demanded that he put her back together.

Lynette was reassembled and the two started arguing again about what sort of trick to use for the finale of their act. Lyney started pulling cards, juggling clubs, and scarves out of his sleeves, putting on that he was stressed about making a lasting impression for such an important audience. Lynette dutifully gathered up every prop he threw, until a mountain of things were in her hands, and, frustrated, she threw the whole lot into the air.

A puff of colored smoke exploded out from the middle of the heap, covering the stage. Furina gasped, and Neuvillette covered his hand with his mouth, startled. When the smoke cleared, the magician, his assistant, and all the props were gone, leaving an empty stage.

The room was totally silent. The applause began, and then the spotlight swung to the front doors –

Which opened to show Lyney and Lynette waving, still holding all of the props Lynette had just thrown into the air.

Furina leapt to her feet and started clapping. The others at the table, Neuvillette included, did the same. The magician and his assistant blew kisses towards the crowd and closed the doors behind them.

“We are inviting them back,” Furina murmured to Neuvillette. “Such skill deserves a larger stage.”

Neuvillette nodded. “I agree. We should speak with the coordinator at the Opera Epiclese.”

It seemed like this performance had been a bigger break for the pair than they could have planned. Good for them, Wriothesley thought.

“I didn’t think you liked stuff like this,” Wriothesley said, nudging Neuvillette with his elbow.

“I enjoy a well-performed act as much as anyone,” Neuvillette said. “After all of my years, it is rarely that I am surprised so strongly. Or so pleasantly, for that matter. I should like to see them perform again.”

It was only half past midnight when Neuvillette and Wriothesley left the ballroom together again. Judging by Furina’s pleading look, this was rather early for Neuvillette to leave her to host the ball on her own.

“Lady Furina, I know you will forgive me for making an early exit,” Neuvillette said, “I have my own guest to attend to, after all.”

He put his hand on Wriothesley’s shoulder. Wriothesley winked at her. Naturally, this set people talking, snickering, and giving each other sly looks. Wriothesley had been dragged out of the ballroom only to return several hours later in a different jacket with his hair messed up. From their perspective, he had seduced Neuvillette on the dance floor until he could not keep himself from taking him to bed, and then had rolled back into the ball well-fucked and smug about it. And now, if Neuvillette was using him as an excuse, it looked rather like he was aiming for another round with him.

But as much as all of these people thinking about him in bed made Wriothesley’s skin crawl, it was still better than them knowing he’d had a panic attack in public. So Wriothesley leaned against Neuvillette and wrapped his arm around him, all smiles.

Furina pulled a sour face. “Very well. I will indulge you just this once,” she sniffed. “You may go, and leave me to have all of the remaining fun without you.”

“Your mercy is appreciated,” Neuvillette said. “… If you will excuse us.”

They were quiet until they were alone in the elevator.

“Sorry, again,” Wriothesley said. “You let your reputation take a hell of a blow for me tonight.”

Neuvillette shook his head. “It is no trouble. I suspect your thoughts on how scandalized the people of Fontaine will be, if the events of tonight are considered worthy of the rumor mill or the press, may be exaggerated. Many people asked me, when I returned alone, why I had not stayed with you, so I am led to believe that it is ordinary for couples to leave together earlier.”

“They did? What did you say?” Wriothesley asked.

“I only reminded them that you usually leave much earlier, and suggested I might have tired you out,” said Neuvillette.

Wriothesley groaned. “Tired me out?”

Neuvillette’s brow furrowed. “With the dancing, of course. That was… part of what happened, after all, as far as I could tell? Something about the dancing upset you.”

“It wasn’t the dancing. Not really. Neuvillette, if you come back to a party after leaving with your boyfriend and say you tired him out, they’re going to think you fucked me until I couldn’t stand.”

Neuvillette’s cheeks flashed a deep. “But – I didn’t do that tonight. Nor is it any of their concern how we – ”

“I know. But it’s a little late to clear up that misunderstanding now.”

Neuvillette shook his head, horrified. “So I am to become some beast that cannot keep himself from having you?”

“If you say it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad,” Wriothesley joked. “They’ll get over it when someone has a more scandalous affair or a really interesting murder happens.”

“Still. I… did not mean to give this impression. I am sorry.”

Neuvillette held his hand tightly until the elevator got to his floor. He went immediately to start a bath, but Wriothesley opted to strip and crawl right back into bed, too worn out now for anything else.

When Neuvillette returned, fresh from his bath, he pulled the blankets off of Wriothesley and wiggled a nightshirt over his head.

“You like me better in your pajamas than naked,” Wriothesley yawned.

Neuvillette was still for a long moment.

“… I know you will be more comfortable like this,” he said.

“Oh, you do like seeing me in your clothes. So possessive, Monsieur…”

Neuvillette didn’t say anything to refute that. He put another nightshirt and crawled into bed, winding his tail around Wriothesley several times to hold him fast to his side.

“So. It was not just the dancing?” he finally said.

“I don’t really want to get into it right now,” Wriothesley grumbled. “I’m pissed off enough that my little episode means you didn’t fuck me until I couldn’t stand. I was doing so well before I psyched myself out.”

Neuvillette nodded, slowly, into Wriothesley’s hair.

“Well,” he said. “There is always tomorrow. Should we both feel up to the task.”

“… Yeah. Tomorrow… sounds good. Sigewinne will think we broke up if I’m walking normal when I get back home anyway.”

“Well?” said Arleccino. “Did you find anything?”

Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet were curled up on the couch in their room at the Hotel Bouffes d’Ete. Arleccino sat across the coffee table from them, slowly distributing mini marshmallows into three mugs of hot cocoa.

Freminet shook his head. “That air duct did lead to the area over Monsieur Neuvillette’s office, but I couldn’t open it without breaking it, since the screws were on the other side, and I couldn’t see much into the office, since it was dark. I crawled back up to the ballroom to try and find another way in, b-but then I ran into Duke Wriothesley coming out of the elevator.”

“So we put on a show that complicated for nothing,” Lynette grumbled into her teacup.

“Now, now.” Lyney flopped against her. “We impressed the Archon and her Chief Justice. That’s not nothing. I’m sure other opportunities to get closer to them and find out more will follow.”

Arleccino hummed, her eyes narrowing. The three orphans sat up a little straigher, nervous.

“Did you see what floor His Grace came from? Maybe he was using the ball for cover too,” she finally said.

Freminet thought a moment. “Um. It looked like the elevator came from somewhere above? I wasn’t really watching the elevator.”

“Probably just coming down from wherever Monsieur Neuvillette dragged him earlier,” Lyney sighed. “I wish I had a secret room to take a nap in every time I had a quickie in public.”

Freminet yelped, his face turning bright red. “W-we don’t know that’s what they were doing!”

“Yes we do,” Lynette said. “Did you see how they looked at each other? The Chief Justice was…”

She gestured vaguely.

“Down bad,” Lyney said helpfully. Lynette nodded.

“Hmm. Regardless,” said Arleccino, “While the three of you did not achieve every goal with today’s mission, I would still mark tonight as a success. Freminet, you found an alternate way into Neuvillette’s office. We simply need to find a way to open that grate discreetly.”

She passed a mug of cocoa into Freminet’s trembling hands.

“Lynette, your aid with the magic show facilitated Freminet getting out of the ball unnoticed so he could carry out his part of the mission. Gerunt tells me you also made contact with several ladies of the peerage and secured possible invitations for both tea parties and further performances. Your support continues to be crucial in this mission. Good work.”

Lynette received cocoa as well.

“And Lyney…” Arleccino sighed. “Try not to look so disappointed. I know you were hoping to meet my expectations tonight and secure more information about our Archon’s plan for the rising sea level.”

Lyney flinched. “I know I did not meet your expectations, Father– ”

“I’m not finished.”

Lyney fell quiet.

“I have every belief that you will be able to find me what I need in the future. Gerunt’s report tells me that you pulled off what may have been your strongest performance yet, and that you fully captured the attention of both the Goddess and her Iudex while you were on the stage. That is not without value. You also did well tonight.”

She handed him the third mug of cocoa. Lyney accepted it, but his eyes never rose to look her in the face, and his cheeks were red with shame.

“I promise I will do better next time,” he said quietly.

Arleccino placed one hand on top of his head. “I know that you will. You have brought yourself and Lynette closer to Lady Furina, which may mean further opportunities to get close to her. I have plenty of other angles for leverage, as well, from my end. And after the events of tonight…”

She smiled. “I have new plans for us to pursue.”

Chapter Text

The Captain of the Maison Gardiennage’s Special Security and Surveillance Patrol breezed into Wriothesley’s office without knocking, carrying the heavy scent of cooking oil with her.

“Your Grace. The chippy stand by the Fountain of Lucerne is open again,” she informed him.

Wriothesley raised his eyebrows as a paper tray of fish and chips was placed on an empty section of his desk. He was never sure if Chevreuse was talking in code.

The chippy stand by the Fountain of Lucerne was a good one. The couple who ran it had a baby in the spring and had ceased their business for awhile. He’d missed stopping by for a snack while waiting for a trial to get out so he could escort high-risk guilty parties to their new homes in Meropide.

He moved the fish sticks aside to inspect the newspaper page sitting under the food. The article, stained in grease, was about the anticipated opening of an opera: Monsieurs Gilde and Sterne’s rearrangement of the Liyue classic Rex Incognito.

“… I know you liked their beer batter,” Chevreuse coughed. “But, also, Madame Chiori told me your suit fitting is tomorrow at four.”

“Suit fitting?” Wriothesley asked. He dipped a fried potato wedge in tartar sauce and chewed thoughtfully.

“Suit fitting,” Chevreuse confirmed. “Chiori is making something for the Chief Justice, to wear to an opera that premiers next month.”

“Ah, yes. Rex Incognito.” Wriothesley gestured towards his meal and its newspaper. “Monsieur Neuvillette did mention that. What does that have to do with me?”

Chiori crossed her arms. “She’s decided you’re going to match. Again, tomorrow at four. If you need to reschedule, you’d better tell me now, or she’s going to bill you her standard rate for cancellation fees.”

“I’m going to match?” Wriothesley said. “Am I going to wear a dress too?”

“No, Chiori definitely said it was a suit fitting.” Chevreuse frowned. “Monsieur Neuvillette is wearing a dress? That’s... not his usual style.”

Wriothesley shrugged. “I think the bit is that it wasn’t Rex Lapis’s usual style either. But don’t ruin the surprise for anyone. It was Lady Furina’s idea, apparently, and she’ll be very put out if someone spoils it.”

“Noted, Your Grace. Again, does four tomorrow work for you? I have to get back for a patrol shift soon.”

Wriothesley checked his calendar. “Yes, that’s fine. I… guess I’ll be there.”

Bewildered, Wriothesley entered the Chioriya Boutique at 3:58 in the afternoon the next day. Chiori, a short, flashily-dressed Inazuman woman with no time for small talk, ushered him into a fitting room and started taking his measurements.

“They got Madame Aubergine to do the costumes for the show,” Chiori muttered. “As if she’s ever worked with Liyuean silk. She’s going to make a farce of the work of costume genius that was the gown Yun Chenhua wore in the original production.”

“Is Monsieur Neuvillette’s dress made of Liyuean silk, then?” Wriothesley asked. “Is his gown a Robe a la Liyue? Or simply a Robe a la Fontainaise that uses their fabric?”

Chiori’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll find out on the night of the premier, Your Grace.”

“I’m coordinating with him and even I don’t get to know?”

“You will find out the night of the premier, Your Grace,” Chiori repeated. “Your usual tailor is Monsieur Givenche, correct? That ensemble you wore to the Midsummer Council was something.”

“I don’t know if you heard, but it was actually a little too much,” Wriothesley said.

He felt guilty, saying it. In truth, it had been too much for him, but as far as the people of Fontaine knew, it had been too much for Neuvillette’s composure and had caused him to drag Wriothesley out of the ball early to ravage him. The Steambird and other more reputable papers had only mentioned that Wriothesley and Neuvillette had cast aside their usual formalwear to match, but the gossip rags had no problem accusing Wriothesley of being a siren who would drag Neuvillette to ruin.

He still hadn’t explained to Neuvillette exactly what had gone through his mind that night. Neuvillette had respected his privacy when he said he didn’t want to talk about it, and Wriothesley was glad. He wasn’t sure how he could put it into words how he’d felt. How his skin had crawled from their eyes on him. How close it was to the feeling he’d had years ago, when he went on trial.

“The papers read far too much into everything. Celestia forbid a man wear nice clothes to escort his lover,” Chiori drawled, pulling Wriothesley out of his thoughts. “Your measurements are finished. I have noted your complexion and know which fabric I will use now. You may leave.”

And just like that, Wriothesley was back on the street, reeling from something like whiplash. Several other shoppers strolling down the Quarter Lyonnais looked him over, some of them even craning their heads to try and get a good look behind him.

Wriothesley pretended not to notice, but it made his skin crawl. He knew he was probably right that people would stop talking about the Midsummer Council ball – and stop leering at him – once something else exciting happened for them to gossip about.

He just hoped it happened soon.

The news of what happened in Sumeru tore through the Court of Fontaine like a riptide. Neuvillette read through the article on the Steambird’s front page in horror.

The unlikely team-up of the Akademiya’s scribe, the General Mahamatra, an Eremite captain, and the traveling warrior known as the Knights of Favonius’s Honorary Knight, along with several other individuals, has rooted out a long-running plot of corruption, abuse of power, and Archon entrapment that has been infecting the branches of Sumeru City’s Divine Tree.

Azar had led five of the other Darshans’ Sages into colluding with a disbarred researcher known as Zandik, known also by the title of the Fatui Harbinger Il Dottore, in an attempt to build a new Archon, having deemed Lesser Lord Kusanali to be an insufficient Goddess of Wisdom. The exact details of the mechanics of this constructed Archon have not been released to the public, as disseminating such information would go against the third and fifth of the Akademiya’s major forbidden sins: ‘delving beyond the universe’ and ‘revering gods without acts of devotion’.

The range of those who have committed the fifth sin could be, according to some experts among the Matra, “uncountable,” as it had been discovered by the group including the Scribe, the General Mahamatra, and the Honorary Knight that Lesser Lord Kusanali had not been meditating in seclusion in the Sanctuary of Surasthana and ruling through the Akasha, but instead been imprisoned by the Sages when the originally found her. But now, the truth has come to light: after sacrificing much of her power during the Cataclysm to prevent all life entirely from being wiped from the deserts of Western Sumeru, Lesser Lord Kusanali reverted to the small, childlike form she is known to wear now. The Sages, following the signs the Rtawahist Darshan pulled from the stars, came to find her, but when they discovered her powers drained and her memory gone, they decided amongst themselves to seal her away in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, alone and unable to leave. Her only method of contacting the outside was through the People of Sumeru’s dreams, but only children were able to meet her this way, as adults’ dreams were being harvested by the Akasha as a power source.

Steambird Sumeru City correspondent Marjorie Bashir was able to hear a statement from Lesser Lord Kusanali herself on the time of her imprisonment.

“When I realized what had happened, I was very afraid, and very alone,” the Archon recounted, “I could not remember anything from before, except that I was the Lord of Dendro and that I had a duty to protect and guide my people. Through the childrens’ dreams, and sometimes through their eyes when they daydreamed, I was able to watch the country go down its path, but I had no ability to change it. It was like watching a play, but I was the only person in the audience, my wrists and ankles were tied to my chair, my mouth was sewn shut, and I could not close my eyes.”

“I am very grateful to the Traveler, Scribe Alhaitham, General Cyno, Captain Dehya, and everyone else who helped to rescue me and stop this plot from reaching its conclusion. I cannot even begin to describe what could have come to pass if it succeeded.”

In the wake of this upheaval, Akademiya Scribe Alhaitham has been named Acting Grand sage until further notice, due to his proven loyalty to Lesser Lord Kusanali and his thorough understanding of how the upper levels of the Akademiya function. Grand Sage Azar and all other Sages, save those of Amurta and Vahumana, were exiled from Sumeru City and banned from every contributing work to the Akademiya. They have been allowed to relocate to the woods around Ganharva Ville to conduct private research in seclusion.

Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham refused to comment, stating a sudden lack of time for anything other than work now that his new role had been handed down to him. Indeed, he was too busy even to look up from his book while he spoke with the Steambird’s correspondent.

General Mahamatra Cyno said that anything important on the proceedings would be released by the Akademiya as an official statement, but noted that Azar, as the Sage of Illuminationism, “really should have seen the light on these matters.”

Lesser Lord Kusanali had been imprisoned, by her own people, for five hundred years. All that time, the Akademiya and the people of Sumeru had relied on the Akasha for information, when it had been granted to them by Lesser Lord Kusanali before her memories were lost. What was the point, Neuvillette wondered, of the humans in Tevyat giving their belief to the usurper-gods granted power by Celestia, when they did not even revere them properly?

“Neuvillette…?” in his bed, Wriothesley stirred. He had stayed over the previous night. “What’s wrong? It’s raining…”

Neuvillette sat up in his armchair and looked out the window. He hadn’t even noticed the change in the weather, too distracted by the article.

“So it is,” he said. “I have been reading the morning paper.”

He stood and brought it to him, then went back to the teapot he’d half-prepared when the headline caught his eye. He heard Wriothesley mutter profane words under his breath while he read the article.

“People really will do anything they want to kids,” he said darkly, “Even when they’re Archons. I’m not surprised at the rain now.”

Neuvillette handed him a cup of tea. “Yes. To think of the people of Sumeru abandoning their Archon when she has done nothing but try to aid and protect them… I am… repulsed by their actions.”

Wriothesley took the teacup with both hands, holding Neuvillette’s hands over his for a long moment before bringing the cup to his lips.

“… You’re getting better with the delicate blends,” he noted. “Or maybe it’s just that you’re unlearning brewing all tea the way you brew Coronete du Matin? Anyway.”

He gestured for Neuvillette to sit with him.

“It’s a shock, I agree,” Wriothesley said. “Do you… want to tell me what you’re thinking?”

Neuvillette furrowed his brow. “It is difficult to explain my relationship to the… Archons,” he said. “How much do you know about the Seven Sovereign Dragons? I forget how much has been forgotten by time, in this era.”

“There’s one for every element and the children tell you not to cry when it rains. You’re… the leaders of the lesser dragons of the seven elements, right? Including the vishaps?”

“More or less,” Neuvillette said. “But you should also understand that the Sovereigns ruled Tevyat before the Archons.”

Wriothesley froze for a long moment, then raised his eyebrows until his forehead was more wrinkles than skin. “Should I be hearing this?” he said.

“I do not see any reason you shouldn’t,” said Neuvillette. “The Sovereigns were overthrown. The Archon War was fought long after, and the Seven that the humans of today worship were formed then. When I hear of something like this…”

Neuvillette leaned further against Wriothesley. His solid, warm body was a source of comfort.

“… I wonder what the point was, when humankind follow gods that cannot protect themselves from their own people,” he said.

“So this…” Wriothesley gestured to the weather. “This is an… existential thing?”

“Perhaps. I am also… angry,” Neuvillette supplied, “That the Sages of five hundred years ago got away with this, and that it was only uncovered now. And I feel… sorrow. For the little Goddess who was treated this way.”

Wriothesley nodded. “It’s enough to have anyone seeing red. I don’t blame you.”

He thought a moment, taking a long sip of his tea. “But you… work for Furina, right? If she’s one of the faction that, I guess, deposed you, wouldn’t that mean– ”

A knock sounded at the front door of the apartment.

“Neuvillette?” Furina called through the doorway. “Are you awake? I saw the weather and your light was on. Have you… seen the Steambird?”

Her voice wavered as she spoke. It sounded weak, even rough, as if she were sick with a sore throat. When Neuvillette opened the door to let her in, he found her still in her pajamas, with her robe tied hastily over them.

He brought her to the parlor and urged her to sit, then handed her the cup of tea that would have been his own.

“Oh. Is His Grace here?” she asked, staring down at the tea.

“I can stay back here if you prefer,” Wriothesley called from the bedroom.

“No, it’s… fine. You don’t have to hide in there, I am the one intruding.” Furina hunched around her teacup, breathing in the steam slowly. Her makeup, likely from the previous night, was smudged, and her eyes and nose were irritated and red. Had Furina been crying over the article? The rain was still falling, so Neuvillette could certainly relate.

“I have read the front-page article, but have not torn my eyes from it to see the other stories,” Neuvillette told Furina.

She nodded, her lower lip trembling. “It’s just awful She… she has to keep up Irminsul, you know. That’s one of her duties.”

“I do know.” Neuvillette knew that the Tree of Knowledge had never been fully a part of Apep, either. It had simply been more subservient to it when Apep was the one who held the Authority of Verdure.

“So she was doing that… all that time. And her people were… were just… they hated her, Neuvillette. If you read the letters to the editor for this issue, they’re all… apologies. From people of all walks of life. She worked so hard…”

Furina sipped at her tea, shaking. “… Do you know what that must have felt like?” she whispered.

“I can… only imagine,” Neuvillette said.

He couldn’t recall if he’d ever seen Furina like this. Even after the most harrowing and soul-crushing court trials, Furina would simply be quiet awhile, withdrawn. To see her like this, hugging a cup of tea like a sick child on his couch, was a first for him.

“Shall we… postpone this morning’s meeting with the Maison Ordinalice?” Neuvillette suggested.

Furina took a deep breath. “No. We must have those budgets finalized before the end of the month, and there are no other slots in my schedule that will give them enough time. And, if we push it back to later today, we could run late for the afternoon’s trials.”

She smiled, tightly, clutching her teacup until her knuckles went white. “The show must go on.”

Wriothesley, having no pressing matters in Meropide that morning, stayed behind and dozed in Neuvillette’s bed awhile longer. Truthfully, he had been up far too late the last night, and he had pulled something in his back riding Neuvillette until his legs gave out. He made another pot of tea, took a hot bath, and was reading through the Steambird when Neuvillette returned to his rooms.

“Furina and I were going to have lunch, if you would like to join us,” he said. “Truthfully, I wished to just eat with you, but she is… she is… I believe it is better if she has company. She appears to still be shaken by the news from Sumeru.”

Wriothesley blinked. “Huh. I don’t think Fontaine would ever turn on her the way Sumeru turned on Lesser Lord Kusanali, so I don’t know what she’s worried about.”

“Far be it from us to know the minds of the Gods,” Neuvillette said.

Wriothesley and Neuvillette were sharing a poissonchant pie and watching Furina stress-eat her third wheel of baked brie when the door blew open under a powerful wind.

“Wasn’t that door locked?” Wriothesley said under his breath, reaching for his gauntlets, but Neuvillette reached out and grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Alatus,” said Neuvillette.

The man who stalked into the room was Liyuean, short with windswept dark green hair, and powerfully built arms. The arm not in a sleeve was covered in a green tattoo depicting some kind of bird. Neuvillette stared at him with a softened look. Was this a friend of his? That would explain why he wilted, ever so slightly, when the stranger brushed past him without so much as a glance and stopped right in front of Furina.

“Oh,” she said. She dabbed a bit of melted brie off of the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “Me?”

With the sharp gesture of drawing a sword, the stranger pulled an envelope out of his pocket and held it out.

“I am to wait for your reply,” he said.

“Let me read it first,” Furina said, but the angered look this ‘Alatus’ gave her made her yelp and hurry to open the envelope.

“What does it say?” Neuvillette said.

Furina scowled. “I said let me read it!”

She pulled out a folded letter-paper with a flourish.

“To Focalors, Regina of All Waters, Goddess of Justice,” she said, “I am sure you are as concerned as I about the things that have come to light in Sumeru City.”

“Do not read the letter aloud,” Alatus hissed, throwing a look towards Wriothesley.

“Fine, fine, I’ll paraphrase. Dear Focalors, Regina, Justice, et-cetera, I am also upset about Lesser Lord Kusanali’s predicament. I am unable to make any gestures to her directly, as you know, but you are also her neighbor, so if you could send her a gift basket or something I am sure she would really appreciate it. It seems that after such a big upheaval, the Traveler usually skips town and he might come to you next. Tell Neuvillette congrats on the hunky Duke!”

Neuvillette’s faced turned cerulean almost instantly. “He truly mentioned that? I. I mean to say: I agree. Some sort of gesture to Sumeru would behoove us.”

He looked up at their uninvited guest. “Alatus, would you like a teacake?”

Alatus frowned. “You eat teacakes here? You’re supposed to scrape a little off and brew it normally.”

Wriothesley coughed. “He means one of the sweets on the table, not pressed pu-erh.”

(Damn, he really wanted some pu-ehr now. Maybe he could pick some up in the imports district on the way back to Meropide.)

Alatus accepted an iced pastry while Furina penned a response letter. He was reaching for another even before he had finished the first one. Neuvillette took the letter Alatus had handed her to read, but when Wriothesley leaned over to try and catch a glimpse at it, Alatus was suddenly in front of him, with his green-bladed spear pointed at his throat.

“These words are not for your eyes,” he said, his voice a low growl that promised pain. He had royal icing smeared on his face, but this somehow had no effect on how intimidating he was.

Neuvillette slowly, reached over and grabbed the spear by the haft, just behind the blade. “His Grace is trustworthy. But I will hide the letter.”

“It talks about me, apparently,” Wriothesley growled, glaring right back at Alatus, not moving an inch. “Who is it even from?”

“… I am afraid I cannot say,” said Neuvillette. “I will tell you that Alatus is an adeptus known also as the Conqueror of Demons.”

So the sender of the letter must be another adeptus, Wriothesley thought. One involved in the Liyuean state, if he was sending formal letters to Furina and was a friendly acquaintance of Neuvillette’s.

“Can I at least ask what it says about me?”

“More or less what Furina said,” Neuvillette sighed. “The sender got his hands on a copy of a Fontainian edition of the Steambird and expresses congratulations for our relationship. He notes that you seem a strong and capable partner worthy of my status, and wishes me well.”

“Oh. Tell him… thank you?” Wriothesley wondered if Neuvillette’s adeptus friend was the cause of the Liyuean paintings in his room, or maybe if he was the sender of the letter he’d seen with the postscript from the funeral parlor.

Ajax’s response to the news about Lesser Lord Kusanali’s imprisonment was, distressingly, very different from Zhongli’s.

“His ass is in so much trouble,” Ajax cooed, rolling onto his back on the couch, absolutely over the moon. “He fucked this up so bad! I hope Her Majesty draws and quarters him. Wait, no. The Torment of Icicles. The Long Swim? The Blizzard of Knives.”

“I do not think that was the intent of the article,” Zhongli said, his brow furrowed, “But I take it you suspect you know who was involved in this scheme?”

“Oh, this has three of my superiors’ names written all over it. I just know for sure that a plan like this never would have worked without – well, I shouldn’t say. But rest assured that the other nine Harbingers make me and Signora look like healthy, well-adjusted members of society, and I hate both of the ones I think were involved here. One of them is always trying to use me for experiments and the other one is my ex.”

Zhongli thought about that. “The Blizzard of Knives sounds promising,” he decided.

Ajax snickered, hugging a throw pillow. “I don’t think I’ll ever be this happy again. Come and kiss me.”

A few months later, both of them would forget this conversation had occurred.

Neuvillette was unable to secure the entire day of his two-month anniversary off with Wriothesley the way they had for their first-month. It had fallen one the day of a very important court case. Wriothesley had assured Neuvillette that ‘monthiversaries’ after the first were rarely considered important occasions by adults, and that there was no need to worry about signifying it until their one-year anniversary.

(The promise in that statement had sent Neuvillette reeling.)

After the trial, he brought Wriothesley down into his den. Wriothesley had been somewhat subdued, in public, since the night of the Midsummer Council. Perhaps spending the evening somewhere the two of them could truly be alone would be more enjoyable for him than going out to dinner, where people would watch them.

There was also that it was risky for Neuvillette to put on his draconic form anywhere else, and he had been hungering to take Wriothesley that way again for some time now.

“You wanted to see the treasury?” Neuvillette recalled, as he and Wriothesley walked out of the shallow water at the cave’s entrance.

“If that’s allowed. I’m definitely curious” Wriothesley said. “I also knew they say dragons are greedy with their treasures.”

Neuvillette hummed. “We can be. But I have no qualms showing you.”

“You’re greedy with me, too,” Wriothesley noted. “Am I one of your treasures, Monsieur?”

“… Perhaps,” Neuvillette said, his voice softening.

It wasn’t untrue. He prized Wriothesley’s companionship over all else. And he was certainly greedy for him, wishing he was there every day he could not see him.

But what Wriothesley did not know that when a dragon called another person their treasure, it meant something more than when a human said it. Dragons gathered wealth, guarded it, protected it, instinctively, with a feeling akin to hunger. Neuvillette did fully understand these instincts when they came across him. Yet he purchased books he would not have time to read, filled large wardrobes with fine clothes he had no occasion to wear, as a man rarely seen in anything but his judge’s robes, and stockpiled gemstones as if he were filling a larder for the winter. To call Wriothesley his treasure would be more than saying he was his boyfriend or even his lover. It was something more personal, something closer to being family.

(There were also, according to Neuvillette’s textbook, dragons in the past who had referred to their concubines as treasures, but that was a more impersonal form of ownership that Neuvillette did not believe he felt for Wriothesley more than he did any other Fontainian human. It was put together with phrases like supplicant and meat-nest and he was not sure if he was that sort of dragon.)

Neuvillette still very much liked the idea of sitting Wriothesley on the pile of shiny things in his treasury and admiring him, so he led him right to the round hatch door into the treasury and stood before the great wheel that kept it locked.

He raised his hand, and water collected in his palm. He sent the water into a pattern of holes in the lock and bade it to turn from the inside. Slowly, the wheel turned, and the door swung inwards.

Light glimmered off of every surface in the treasury. Stalactites made of Condessense Crystal hung from the ceiling, faint lights glowing from within them. There were also proper lanterns, made of crystal and powered by pneumosia, which Neuvillette had come and lit this morning to increase the effect of the brilliance when Wriothesley saw them for the first time. Every inch of the walls that would have been empty was encrusted in lumitoilles, kept fed and happy by the thin curtain of water that fell from the edges of the ceiling.

Wriothesley came into the room slowly, his eyes wide, and stood before a heap of lazurites, beryl conches, and crystallores more than twice his height. “… I knew it would be something impressive, but this is…”

“The delicate artifacts are in the cabinets along the walls,” Neuvillette said. “You may take them out to inspect them more closely if you wish.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Wriothesley said. “I don’t know how I’d pay you back if I broke something. Fuck, are those Remurian vases?”

He gestured to a line of amphorae that were ensconced along one wall.

“Yes, I dug them out of some ruins a few centuries ago. Some of them have oil inside, but most of them hold water that was bottled long before I was born. I have never opened them” Neuvillette said.

“Oh, I see, the really good water.” Wriothesley laughed, turning to Neuvillette, his smile all the brighter for the light that bounced off of him. “That is so you. Are you saving them for a special occasion?”

Neuvillette shook his head. “If I open them, and drink the water, it will be gone. I do not know what sort of occasion would be worth their loss.”

“Collector’s items, Neuvillette edition,” Wriothesley mused. “Wasn’t there something about a dragon in the stories about Remuria?”

“…There was. I believe what is known of the tale among scholars today is that the God-King Remus fought a dragon and his army that rose out of the sea.”

Neuvillette had hesitated a little too long before answering, it seemed, because Wriothesley’s attention was now focused on him and not the treasure.

“That wasn’t you, was it? I didn’t mean to hit a sore spot,” he said.

“Oh– no, I am not nearly so ancient,” Neuvillette said. “That was… my predecessor. Scylla.”

“Your predecessor,” Wriothesley said. “You mean like your… parent?”

He shook his head. “Not quite. Something closer to a… ‘past life.’ I hatched on the shores of Erinnyes a few centuries after Scylla was lost.”

“Lost,” Wriothesley repeated.

“He was sealed away after the battle with Remus and died at some point afterwards,” said Neuvillette, “But I hold none of his memories and suspect, based on certain tales that were known in the past, that my personality is quite unlike his. And so, despite being his reincarnation, I am confident that I can consider myself to be a separate being.”

“I feel like I say this a lot,” said Wriothesley, “But should I be hearing this?”

“I would not tell you if I did not want you to know,” Neuvillette pointed out. “I am unsure if there is any way this particular information could be used against me, at any rate.”

“You know, I can accept that.” Wriothesley smiled tightly. “Well. I guess I don’t have to worry about meeting your parents either.”

Neuvillette crossed his arms. “I... suppose not. Though, if you were up for it, there is someone I might introduce you to. We would need to have a day off at the same time, but I could take you to see Elynas.”

“Elynas?” Wriothesley’s grin relaxed into something more genuine. “That’s where Merusea Village is, right? Sigewinne has shown me some pictures.”

“Ah, yes. You have not met the Melusines who stay in the village,” Neuvillette said. “I would like for you to meet them. Some of those who do not leave the island have written me and are curious about you.”

Perhaps it would be too difficult to explain to him that ‘Elynas’ was not just an island. It would be easier to show him.

“Still,” Wriothesley said. “I know you’ve been on your own, but… it didn’t really hit me that you don’t have a family either. I’m sorry.”

He reached out for Neuvillette’s hand and, when he took it, pulled him into a hug. Neuvillette leaned into him, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“… This is not the mood I intended to set bringing you in here,” he said quietly.

Wriothesley, who had started stroking Neuvillette’s back to comfort him, paused.

“And what is the mood you were hoping to set, Monsieur? Is showing me your treasure room one of your things?”

“Normally, I would have presented it the first time I brought you into my den,” Neuvillette admitted. “But, as you recall, I was upset that day.”

“So it is one of your things,” Wriothesley confirmed. “So, if I was another dragon, would this… turn me on?”

He turned his head and brushed his lips against Neuvillette’s ear as he spoke.

“Hopefully,” Neuvillette said. “It takes power and time to amass a hoard… and I spent time arranging it to show you…”

Wriothesley pulled away, not leaving Neuvillette’s arms, but enough to look up at him. “To be honest, Monsieur,” he said, “Seeing you so pouty is doing a lot more for me. But that doesn’t mean I’m not impressed.”

“Pouty?” Neuvillette said.

Wriothesley patted his cheeks. “For you, this is pouty. Your rhinophores even get all droopy like Sigewinne’s do when she’s sad.”

“They do not,” Neuvillette started to say, but he was stopped by a finger over his lips.

“So, you impressed me with the payload,” Wriothesley said. “Now what happens?”

He looked up at him, sly. He clearly didn’t need to ask. But if he was going to answer Neuvillette’s overture…

“Now is the part where I decide if I like these clothes,” he said.

He was wearing the shirt and trousers he usually wore under his judge’s robes. He had an entire closet of garments exactly like them.

Neuvillette burst into his draconic form and let the clothes tear.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Ajax yawned, “But how come when you turn back to human-shaped after being shaped like a dragon, your clothes are the same, but whenever Dvalin shapeshifted, his clothes always tore off and Venti had to find him spares?”

“That is because I am more talented in shapeshifting,” Zhongli said. “Dvalin, I suspect, has to put so much effort into changing shape that he cannot control what happens to the things he wears. He is young. And while it is easy for stone to be carved, or metamorphosize with enough pressure and heat… something like wind or water is not so easy to shape willingly. Similarly, the former Cryo Dragon was also able to take a great many forms with ease.”

Ajax nodded. If someone had told him two years ago that he’d be getting biology and elementalism lectures as pillow talk and relishing it, he wouldn’t have believed it them.

(A year an a half ago, he had just met Zhongli, and he would have begged for it to be true.)

Zhongli hummed in thought. “But remember, the first time I took you, even I could not keep my teeth blunt or my private parts humanlike. I suppose, for anyone, it is more difficult to keep the true form locked away when one is distracted…”

Neuvillette hoisted Wriothesley up in his claws and rose up the pile of gems in the center of the treasury, his body coiling around it as he went. He carved a shallow depression into the top of the heap with his tail and laid Wriothesley down in it.

“Just like that?” Wriothesley laughed.

He was already fiddling with the straps on his boots. Neuvillette reached down to help him, but his talons were absolutely useless with the buckles on the back. He hissed in frustration and dropped back down to his usual form to tug at his clothes with his fingers.

“Your claws went back to blunted this time,” Wriothesley chuckled, leaning back to let Neuvillette unbutton his waistcoat with a frenzy.

“I sssshould hope so,” Neuvillette said, “It takessss long enough to sand them down.”

Having torn through his clothes to transform in the first place, he was entirely naked now, something that he was not paying attention to until Wriothesley’s rough hands pressed against his chest and slowly dragged down him. Neuvillette’s breath stuttered and he pulled harder at the last button on Wriothesley’s vest, sending it flying off somewhere into the room.

“You’re helping me find that later,” Wriothesley said, but he was smiling, his cheeks warm, and he shrugged easily out of his waistcoat and the shirt underneath.

“It’ssss part of the hoard now,” Neuvillette said, and before Wriothesley could ask if he was joking, he was pouring himself over him, seeking out his lips. Wriothesley’s trousers were rough against his exposed skin, especially against his cocks, which were just barely starting to emerge from their vent, but Neuvillette had little care for this, entirely focused on kissing Wriothesley breathless.

“Fuck, Neuvillette,” Wriothesley gasped, when Neuvillette finally came up for air. “This really is one of your things.”

“We haven’t had the time recently either,” Neuvillette said. “Not to do it like thissss.”

“… I know,” Wriothesley said. “I missed you too.”

He put a hand under Neuvillette’s chin and tugged him back down, Neuvillette happy to follow and run his hands over every swell of muscle exposed. Wriothesley canted his hips up, rubbing what was now a very noticeable stiffness in the front of his pants against the delicate skin between Neuvillette’s legs. It caught more against the edge of his vent than his dicks, which had only slid out as far of the heads, but the promise of what was to come had Neuvillette shuddering regardless. He raked his blunted claws down Wriothesley’s chest – he knew he liked that by now, knew how hard he could press – and scrabbled for his belt.

Wriothesley’s pants and the boots, already unbuckled, were thrown aside without ceremony. Neuvillette pressed himself over him, rubbing soft skin and smooth scale over scarred, firm muscle. Wriothesley’s half-hard dick was perfect to rut against with his slowly lengthening ones, and Neuvillette rocked against him greedily, bringing them both closer to readiness. Wriothesley’s breath was hot in Neuvillette’s mouth, enough that he could feel it warm his gills when he exhaled through them. Wriothesley’s hands danced over his hips, his back, until finally one settled firmly on Neuvillette’s ass and pushed, holding him down to grind up against him harder. Neuvillette growled, clutching at Wriothesley’s shoulders in turn, more and more of his lubricant easing the slide between them as his cocks shot out another inch.

“Oh, you like that, Monsieur?” Wriothesley crooned, before doing it again, inspiring another inhuman noise that rattled through Neuvillette’s gills, earning another precious bit of Neuvillette’s lengths against his belly.

Neuvillette nodded, more interested in mouthing at Wriothesley’s strong neck than using his words at the moment. Wriothesley seemed to have him all figured out in moments like this. He knew Neuvillette’s tells, knew how to coax him out to have him. And Neuvillette wanted–

Wriothesley grabbed one of Neuvillette’s rhinophores with his free hand and pulled. Pleasure shocked through Neuvillette, everything he felt suddenly all too bright and sharp and vivid. He let out a warbling, keening cry, as his head was forced back, and his neck exposed for Wriothesley to attack him there as well. Blunt teeth bit down into the hollow of Neuvillette’s throat.

It should have felt dangerous. It would have been, if Wriothesley were a dragon. But Wriothesley was not a dragon, and the thrill of those harmless fangs in him had Neuvillette’s heart pounding. He thrust shamelessly against Wriothesley’s cock pinned under him, now fully hard against Neuvillette’s, which were making a sopping, sticky mess between them.

“Wriothhhesssley– I have to– have to– ” Neuvillette coated a finger in lubricate and tried to reach under him, but Wriothesley stopped him with a hand at his wrist.

“I think you can go big again,” he hinted.

Wriothesley wanted to be stretched open on the dragon’s tongue. Neuvillette was more than happy to oblige.

Wriothesley seemed to shrink under Neuvillette as he rose over him, his body swelling, scales emerging from under skin, tail coiling around the mound of treasure and wings spreading out to cast Wriothesley in the shade. He looked perfect, like this, naked, laying on his coat, nestled against the stockpile of treasure that threw colored light to sparkle across his sweat-kissed skin.

“Marvelousssss,” Neuvillette said. And then he curled down towards him, jaws outstretched.

He lapped at Wriothesley’s chest first, then his cock. The sweat and Neuvillette’s lubricant and Wriothesley’s precome were divine on his tongue. He allowed himself a few delicious tastes, relishing the moans Wriothesley tried to hide behind his teeth, before dipping lower and circling the tips of his forked tongue against Wriothesley’s entrance. He gave him a few slow licks, and then finally began the work of fitting his tongue inside.

He was truly at war with himself, wanting both to take his time taking Wriothesley apart and to prepare him fast and rough so he could get himself inside him all the sooner. But Wriothesley was human, and no matter if Neuvillette had some ability to manipulate the water of his body when he was directly under his tongue to ease the stretch, he needed the gentle work that any other human would, even more so when he was the only one who was brave enough to face him in this monstrous shape.

Once the slide of Neuvillette’s tongue rolled up was manageable for Wriothesley, Neuvillette began to flatten it, making him wider and wider inside. Wriothesley, ever wicked, rested his hands on his knees and held himself open wider for him. He called Neuvillette’s name, egging him on, until Neuvillette curled his tongue up and pressed both points of it directly over his prostate.

This wrenched noises out of Wriothesley that were far less coherent, but infinitely more enticing. Wriothesley’s body heaved as he tried to work himself harder down onto Neuvillette’s tongue, never satisfied with what he was given no matter how Neuvillette rolled it inside him. With these efforts, Neuvillette was able to work deeper and deeper, until Wriothesley tensed and cried out sharply, suddenly squeezing down much harder around the massive tongue inside him as his whole body locked up when he came.

The fountain of white that erupted out of Wriothesley fell all over him, against his stomach, his thighs, dirtying the coat he lay on and the gemstones that had rolled onto it while Wriothesley rocked against the heap. He fell back, gasping, skin rosy from the exertion. Neuvillette kept his tongue snug inside him while he caught his breath, too mesmerized by the sight of Wriothesley stretched around it to do otherwise.

“Neuv… Neuvill…. Neuvillette,” said Wriothesley. “That was… that was… I’m gonna need a minute.”

Neuvillette nodded, and started to retract his tongue, but when Wriothesley flinched from the drag against his tender skin, he stilled again. He rested his head in the jewelry near him, mouth closed to give his jaw a rest.

Wriothesley lay there a moment and caught his breath before mumbling that Neuvillette could have his tongue back. Neuvillette grunted, unable to speak in his situation, before slowly, carefully pulling out of him. Wriothesley groaned, but he did not tense up this time, and Neuvillette crawled higher up the pile.

He curled around Wriothesley, watching him. His cocks hung full and proud against the glittering heap, and Wriothesley definitely noticed, his eyes following them as Neuvillette formed a circle around him.

A droplet of white splashed onto the precious stones below. Wriothesley licked his lips.

“All right,” he said. “I’m recovered enough.”

He rolled over onto his stomach and crawled closer. From his higher vantage point, Neuvillette could see a long, angry scar that ran down Wriothesley’s back.

He wanted to ask. He always wanted to ask about the scars, even if he knew the answers would upset him. But this was not the time, with Wriothesley pulling himself up onto his knees to grin cheekily up at him before running just one finger up one of his cocks. Neuvillette hissed, throbbing with want from even that light touch.

“You have been so patient, Monsieur,” he said. “It makes me want to reward you. I may not be ready for what you really want, just yet…”

This time, he laid his hand flat against him, nearly dipping his fingers into Neuvillette’s slit, before stroking along his length. When Neuvillette shivered at the contact, Wriothesley took his other hand to the other cock and started to pull at him with both hands, slow, gentle. He looked so small, sitting there, before the two hemipenes that were longer than his shoulders were wide. His hands, rough as they were, were a welcome relief after spending the time untouched. Wriothesley squeezed his fingers down, testing the resistance.

“Can’t even close my hand around it…” Wriothesley shifted where he knelt. Was he getting hard again already? From this angle, Neuvillette couldn’t see. “So pretty…”

He bowed his head to kiss the tip of the cock that was closer to him. Neuvillette hissed softly, then louder when Wriothesley’s tongue dragged across the slit. He was small enough in comparison that his tongue dipped shallowly inside, and the feeling was much more immediate, more intense, than Neuvillette had thought Wriothesley could achieve at this difference in scale. He squirmed, almost bucking out of Wriothesley’s hands from the movement.

“Too much?” Wriothesley said, hovering over Neuvillette’s cock where he had been about to do it again.

Neuvillette had to think about it. “Jussssst… ssssurprissssed,” he said.

“Oh!” said Wriothesley. “Too soon. I got it. I’ll go slower.”

He went back to working Neuvillette’s cocks with his hands, slowly squeezing up their lengths. When he ducked his head back down and hunched up so he could lick up the entire length, Neuvillette groaned softly. This was gentler, was easier for him to comprehend. Wriothesley’s hands and mouth worked him over with an unhurried care. The heated urgency he showed when he pulled Neuvillette onto him on his desk, or when he tried to climb up him in the elevator up to Neuvillette’s rooms, or when he pulled him into the green room behind the stage at the Opera Epiclese and locked the door, was not there.

Instead, Wriothesley took his time to enjoy himself. His tongue traced over the scalloped shapes on the heads of Neuvillette’s lengths, fitting individual ones into his mouth to suck on, while his hands tested different ways of petting and grabbing and twisting to figure out which ways of jerking Neuvillette off were most effective when his hands couldn’t make a full circle around their girths.

“So big,” Wriothesley sighed. His mouth and hands were absolutely coated in Neuvillette’s wetness now, but he was unbothered by how the clear lubricant dripped off his chin and onto his chest. If anything, he was pleased, considering how he pulled back once in awhile and swallowed it down.

As attentive as Wriothesley was, and as blessedly strong as his grip strength was, as this continued, Neuvillette’s need was growing stronger and stronger. He tried pushing into his hands, tried hissing pointedly.

Wriothesley picked up the pace, until he was wringing Neuvillette at the base and sucking at the side like he could leave hickeys. But even when Neuvillette felt the slight scrape of teeth, there just wasn’t enough contact, wasn’t enough friction.

“Wriothhhhhessssley,” Neuvillette whimpered, “I need... more, I need... ”

“Hmm?” Wriothesley sat back, smiling with such a soft look in his eyes that Neuvillette could not quite place. “What do you need?”

He said it so warmly. With such promise. Neuvillette felt his heart clench.

“If you aren’t ready for me to go back inssssside,” he said, voice as hesitant as it could be when his voice was a low hiss that rumbled against the walls of the room, “Touch me with… more.”

“… I think this is the first time I’ve gone to bed with someone and they’ve said I was too small,” Wriothesley laughed. He pressed a messy kiss to the nearest cock. “But I can do that.”

He crawled closer until he could lay against him. His warm, firm body even just pressing against Neuvillette’s erections was a relief, and he groaned in appreciation. When Wriothesley started to slide his body over him, the contact and the friction had Neuvillette growling, until he was rubbing himself over him. His lubricant smeared across Wriothesley’s chest, his legs, and the cock that Neuvillette could feel was growing stiffer again as it frotted against one of his.

“Better?” Wriothesley asked.

“Yessssssss– ”

Wriothesley’s wet kisses still pressed against Neuvillette’s tips, but he was less picky now, also kissing the scales of his lower belly. His breath came in sharp puffs from the exertion of moving his entire body against his. Neuvillette decided to make it easier for him. He curled his tail around Wriothesley to hold him in place and ground back against him more actively, taking on more of the work.

Neuvillette’s body felt heavy already. It was hard to hold onto this form for such a long time, incomplete a dragon as he was, and he had only gotten used to keeping it on in the water. Without his own buoyancy to hold him up, he was getting tired. But he was hardly in a state to stop now, when Wriothesley was urging him on, when Wriothesley was getting just as desperate as he was. It would feel all the better once he was finally inside him after all this effort.

The Duke got his voice enough back to moan. His cock was stiff against Neuvillette’s now. He grabbed up Neuvillette’s shafts in his arms in a lewd version of a hug, pressing them closer together so he could rut himself in between. His skin was heated, now, from the hard work he was putting in. He dug his heels into the ground to buck his hips up harder, tried trapping Neuvillette’s cocks between his knees to give himself more friction.

“Wriothhhessely…” Neuvillette murmured, “Shhhhould I be asssking you what you need, now?”

“You,” Wriothesley said, “I need you.”

Neuvillette’s chest felt tight again, as if it were containing something too large for it to hold. What was this feeling he kept feeling in flashes, whenever Wriothesley caught him off-guard? He felt hot all over, but it wasn’t with the discomfort of a fever. He was happy, but it also ached. He didn’t understand.

“Ssssstay sssstill.”

He rolled over, carefully, carefully, holding himself up with this back legs so Wriothesley wouldn’t be crushed. He pulled his body into a tighter circle around the treasure mound and laid his head next to Wriothesley’s. He tapped the end of his snout against Wriothesley’s cheek and waited for him to turn his head and kiss the edge of his mouth before he positioned himself against Wriothesley’s entrance.

“Fuck. It always feels so much bigger when we get to the main act no matter how much I feel it with my hands,” he gasped. “Give it to me. I’m ready.”

It was all Neuvillette could do to not slam into him right away. Wriothesley was human, he was mortal, he was very strong for a human and a mortal but Neuvillette had something of an idea what he could safely handle from him in this form.

The flared end was always the hardest part. Neuvillette tilted his hips to carefully fit each rounded fluke or his cockhead into Wriothesley, until he finally slid inside. From there, he held Wriothesley tighter in place so he wouldn’t simply be pushing him backwards, and inched into him in careful increments. All the while, he nuzzled against his face, flickered his tongue against his neck.

He could feel when he’d dragged across Wriothesley’s prostate more from how Wriothesley tightened around him and moaned than the feeling of its firmer shape rolling against him. He pulled back just a little and thrust over that spot again, squeezing him ever so tighter around the middle when he got Wriothesley to shudder and cry out louder.

Neuvillette stayed at that depth for a few slow, testing thrusts. Wriothesley got used to it enough to relax into the grip of Neuvillette’s tail, and then enough to plant his feet for leverage and start rocking back up to meet him. His first thrust upward almost staggered Neuvillette, the sudden squeeze, the deeper thrust this caused all but overwhelming him.

“Come on… Neuvillette, I know… you need more than that,” he laughed, already sounding winded despite his goading words. Neuvillette stared down at his prey, his lover, spread out against the other sparkling treasures, and decided to take the bait.

His next thrust slammed into Wriothesley as deep as it could go. Wriothesley took it with a wanton howl of a moan, his cock swinging from the force of the thrust. Neuvillette could see himself protruding from inside Wriothesley now, the shallow swell of Wriothesley’s stomach that formed when he bore down into him. Neuvillette angled himself up harder, wanting to see that bulge larger, the absolutely punishing way this rammed his flukes over Wriothesley’s tender spots almost an afterthought.

Neuvillette hadn’t been able to see these details the other times he’d taken this form with Wriothesley. When he dragged him underwater and coiled around him the way he would another dragon or something he caught to eat, Wriothesley would be hidden from his view, and now he knew he’d missed so much taking him from that position. The way he carved himself into Wriothesley’s stomach while he was inside, the way Wriothesley grit his teeth and dug in his heels to steel himself for each thrust, the way Wriothesley’s head fell back for him to gasp for air, the way his entrance looked, stretched around such an unnaturally large intrusion. All of it was intoxicating, and Neuvillette drank it all in. Each of these details was a treasure in itself. He would hoard these memories too, he thought, at the times he could not have Wriothesley with him.

Neuvillette coursed into him harder, finally letting his body ripple the way it wanted to bring his hips down like the crack of a whip. He wanted more of these sights, more of the way Wriothesley kicked to try and steady himself to take Neuvillette harder. He was not yet worked up to quite the brutal pace he had taken with Wriothesley the times he’d dragged him underwater, but moving like this felt different out in the air.

Truthfully, he wanted to go faster, but he was starting to feel too heavy for that. There was also that he was effectively slamming Wriothesley down into a pile of rocks. He wasn’t sure it would be a good idea to cant into him the way he did underwater when gravity pinned Wriothesley between the leviathan above him and the sharp jewels below, even if he were capable. The worry slowed his movements even before Neuvillette’s weight did. He buried his hands in the gemstones, suddenly worried that Wriothesley would be crushed if he fell onto him.

“Right…” Wriothesley rasped, “You said… you said you don’t usually look like this… ‘nless you’re underwater.”

Oh. He remembered. Neuvillette stopped, buried almost entirely in Wriothesley, to look down at him with concern.

“Sssssssorry,” he started to say, but Wriothesley shushed him.

“Roll over,” he said.

Neuvillette stared down at him. He flapped his ear fins to make sure they were working correctly. When Wriothesley patted Neuvillette’s side insistently, he did as he was told.

Neuvillette went belly-up, clutching Wriothesley to him with his tail so he wouldn’t fall off of him. Wriothesley laid down, still fully on him, and took a moment to breathe. He kissed the silvery scales of Neuvillette’s underbelly before he started to sit up.

Wriothesley’s hands braced against Neuvillette’s body, and he started to slowly rock his hips. These movements felt much smaller to Neuvillette than his own thrusts had when he was controlling the pace, but he had an even better view of Wriothesley this way.

But Wriothesley, straddling the wide hips of the dragon under him and speared in place by a cock so massive, was starting to get frustrated too. No matter how he threw his weight onto his hands, he could not raise himself up high enough to get the height he wanted. He tried to bring his knees in closer so he could kneel and hoist himself higher, but Neuvillette’s under-plating was too smooth and Wriothesley just ended up sliding back down.

“Need… a little help…” Wriothesley huffed. He reached out his arms towards Neuvillette’s face. “Give me... something to grab.”

Neuvillette’s tail would be too thick for Wriothesley to hold onto properly, so he offered out his claw, holding it in front of him. Wriothesley licked his lips and nodded, then hugged just one of Neuvillette’s talons in both arms. Now, finally, Wriothesley could haul himself up higher, nearly halfway up Neuvillette’s length.

The way he slammed back down onto Neuvillette when he let go punched a howl out of both of them.

“Fuck– yeah, this works–” Wriothesley grabbed for the claw again immediately to pull himself back up and fall back down harder. He clutched that one sharp finger tight and took up an unsteady rhythm, dragging himself up fast and coming down faster. His cries seemed to get louder, more ragged, more desperate each time.

Neuvillette bent almost in half to see him from up close, spine curving until he formed a near-circle. The sound Wriothesley’s ass and thighs made slapping down onto Neuvillette’s scales was different than how it sounded against skin when he rode him in his more humanlike forms. Wriothesley’s face was slack, mouth open for him to gasp for air when he rose and cry out when he fell. His legs were spread wide to let Neuvillette in, his toes curled, abdominals tensed, chest heaving. Wriothesley’s hole, stretched obscenely wide, was in full view, and Neuvillette could see how Wriothesley clenched down around him each time before he started to pull up his cocks in preparation for his next thrust.

The heaviness settling over Neuvillette’s body was weighing down on him harder. He could barely hold his head up to watch him this closely, let alone thrust back up into him– and if he tried hard enough that he managed it, he would most likely use too much force and send Wriothesley flying off of him.

Wriothesley looked Neuvillette in the eye and kissed the knuckle of the claw he was holding onto. He arched his body backwards, and the next time he crashed down, that protruding shape in his belly was much more prominent, pushed out further by the new angle. It clearly did something right for Wriothesley, too, for how he hollered and how his shoulders shook. He dragged himself up viciously to land on him that way again, again, now starting to squeeze down harder, chasing the sensation, burning hot inside and stomach misshapen from how hard he was being bred–

Neuvillette just barely managed to lash his tail back around Wriothesley to hold him in place before he came. Great torrents of come were forced out of him around Neuvillette’s cock, but even more of it shot deep, deep into Wriothesley, flooding his insides until he seized up and followed Neuvillette over the edge. White splattered across Wriothesley as he rode it out, clinging tighter to the claw he still held in his arms even though he was held too tightly in place to keep moving. When Wriothesley stopped shaking, he relaxed into the hold of Neuvillette’s tail, panting, hole still twitching around Neuvillette’s cock as he continued to fill him. He planted messy, lazy kisses into Neuvillette’s claw, moaning as he rode out the soft aftershocks of his climax.

Neuvillette’s orgasm waned, the rush of seed trickling to a stop, his sheathed cock starting to go soft, sated. He leaned in and nudged Wriothesley’s face with his snout, a gesture as close to a kiss as he could make in this form. Wriothesley chuckled and pressed his lips to the edge of his mouth.

“You can give me the other one whenever you’re ready,” Wriothesley spoke into Neuvillette’s teeth.

The senses that had started to drift towards sleep from the heaviness of the huge draconic body and the warmth of his first orgasm roared back to life. Neuvillette suddenly wanted nothing more than to see if Wriothesley would swell noticeably when he was full of eggs, especially the larger ones he produced in this form. He hissed and lifted him off of his softened hemipene with his tail, then positioned him over the other one that still stood erect, trembling from lack of attention.

“You are sssssure?” he murmured. No matter how happy Wriothesley looked, there was no question he must be sore by this point.

Wriothesley answered by grabbing one of his own legs under the thigh and lifting it up. His ass spread wide over the erection he was positioned over as his legs opened up. Neuvillette’s spend poured out of him and washed his cock over in white. The whole area around Wriothesley’s entrance was filthy with it, covered in both of their mess, and to see it dripping slowly back out of him onto himself was too much.

Neuvillette shoved his hips up and started fucking his come back into him as hard as he dared. Short, sharp thrusts shook Wriothesley, pressing the outline of Neuvillette’s shape to the front of his belly again and again. Wriothesley hoisted his leg up higher for Neuvillette to see the way he was spread open, but he was not able to do much else. He clung to Neuvillette’s tail and let out wrecked, gasping moans that punctuated every time their hips met.

When Neuvillette realized that the violently bouncing cock between Wriothesley’s legs was getting hard again, his whole body pulsed with heat and pleasure. He hilted himself as far inside as he could to give Wriothesley the first egg. His was stretched even wider around it as it passed, and then again immediately after as the next egg came. Neuvillette’s body rippled, and his belly and back contracted to push the eggs out. It was much harder like this, with gravity working against him, with how tight Wriothesley was when each egg crammed past his rim. He fell slack in Neuvillette’s grip and took each one with a languid roll of his hips. With his body relaxed and his abs no longer held tight, Neuvillette could see that his stomach was swelling out, ever so slightly, with each egg he was given. Wriothesley’s cock was slowly raising, straining up to meet that swelling shape.

He was getting too full of eggs for Neuvillette’s cock to fit inside at the same time. Neuvillette pulled out with a groan and rolled to the side, steeling the last of his strength to set Wriothesley down instead of dropping him. A few more eggs rolled down the treasure heap, and Neuvillette had nothing left to give. He could not hold onto his dragon’s form anymore either, too spent to hold up its mass. As his cocks started to retract, the rest of his body shrank with him, until he was sticky and naked in Wriothesley’s arms at his human size. His tail stayed loosely around Wriothesley’s middle, and he was pulled closer. He whined at the press of Wriothesley’s hot erection against his soft-skinned belly.

“We both overdid it this time,” Wriothesley laughed weakly. “I don’t think either of us is getting up anytime so – oh– ”

His breath hitched as Neuvillette slid his hand over his hard cock. “We both came twice, you don’t have to…”

Neuvillette’s fingers stilled. “Do you want me to sssstop?”

Wriothesley shook his head. “… You can keep going.”

Neuvillette pulled at Wriothesley slowly, the motions aided by the copious amount of fluids covering them. He kissed him, wetly, but both of them were exhausted and it fell into licking Wriothesley’s face more than moving their lips together.

It didn’t take much for Wriothesley to spill over into his hands. Even his moan as he came sounded like more of a yawn. Neuvillette pulled some water from the fixtures on the walls to splash the worst of the mess off of them, sent the water flying somewhere off to the side, and fell asleep, warm and relatively dry.

Wriothesley had a slight cold in the morning after falling asleep naked and damp. Sigewinne sent Neuvillette a strongly worded letter and three more care pamphlets.

Leaving Ajax alone in his apartment was a mistake on Zhongli’s part, Ajax thought to himself, as he rifled through the contents of his mate’s desk.

He just couldn’t help it. Zhongli kept dangling hints of ancient secrets and non-disclosure contracts. And one of the desk drawers wasn’t even locked! It didn’t have any official-looking documents, but it had a lock, and it was full of small gemstones cut into very complicated shapes, receipts that had been billed to the Northland Bank, loose Mora coins of various denominations, and… a stack of letters in very fine blue envelopes.

“What have we here?” Ajax said. He pulled out the envelope on top of the stack. The return address said:

This letter was from Fontaine’s Chief Justice. Government secrets! Ajax cheered and threw a fist up into the air.

Dear Mr. Zhongli,

It was a surprise to see Alatus again, but I would have done the same from your situation.

Zhongli had sent Xiao to Fontaine? More than once? And to the Chief Justice, not their Archon?

I offer my heartfelt thanks for your congratulations. If I may be honest, this is the first time I have been so close with someone in this way, publicly or otherwise.

Along that same tangent, I have written this letter asking for your advice. How, as I grow closer to someone, do I best explain matters related to pigeons?

… What? Ajax furrowed his brow. This had to be some kind of code.

He has expressed interest in these things, even going so far as to ask me questions unprompted. Despite my initial worries, he has taken all of this information much better than I thought he would.

Yet, at the same time, it seems the closer we grow, the more prevalent some of the less humanlike sides of pigeon courtship displays seem to become. I would not wish to alienate him and tell him more than he can handle. And still I want more and more for him to understand pigeon fancy, to understand me, to understand what I mean when I say certain things.

You advised me once that you did not want me too assume too soon that my pigeon was in love. Lately, I have been thinking of this often. How will I know? What does a pigeon in love feel like?

Ever eager to hear from you on any subject,
Neuvillette

Post-Script: I would be eager to hear your recommendations on which manufacturers export the best-quality pu-ehr cakes.

Ajax had to put the letter down on the table until he could stop laughing.

Pigeons? Really? Couldn’t Monsieur le Iudex have at least framed his questions less suspiciously?

It seemed his theory that all dragons were absolute dogshit at lying was holding true.

Zhongli’s return letter arrived on Neuvillette’s desk through express post only three days after he received it.

Dear Monsieur Neuvillette,

It is times like these that I remember how young you are.

It can be difficult to be certain if feelings of affection or closeness qualify as the kind of love you mean to ask of, even if you have loved before. Love can be incredibly different, when shared with one person or another, as people, and your bonds with them, can have their own unique features. I am afraid you must determine the truth of this matter yourself.

On the matter of explaining pigeons’ mating rituals, you are correct to recognize the importance of communication. Unfortunately, even though it takes some of the sense of romance out of things, it is important not only to offer some explanations of pigeon behavior, but also to do your own research on human behavior.

To illustrate with an example: humans courtship practices are varied based on many things, such as social class and region. There are misunderstandings that can be easily made when the hints one gives are different from what the target of their interest is expecting. In Schneznaya, for instance, a good deal of showing romantic interest is centered around the idea of sharing warmth. If someone from Schneznaya offered to wrap up together under a fur coat in front of the fire to someone they liked in in Liyue, however, the suggestion would seem strange, as it is far too warm here , even in the winter, for such a thing to be practical.

The best advice I can give as a pigeon enthusiast is to combine the behaviors of showing gestures that the other person will understand with an explanation of things that do not have an easy comparison in human custom. Someone new to pigeon fancy will likely have questions, or misunderstand some things, so I must advise you to be patient.

Once again, I congratulate you on finding someone you wish to educate about birds. As for the matter of teacakes, I would recommend those sold by Madam Jiuguan at Yilong Wharf or Yip Tak of Qiaoying Village.

Your consultant on this or any matter,

Zhongli