Wrestle a Go-Go (Neuvithesley, NSFW)

Neuvillette and Wriothesley wrestle and then fuck.

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Neuvillette, as it turns out, can have a very one track mind when given the opportunity.

It was meant as an opportunity to bridge the gap between Meropide and the surface. Neuvillette’s suggestion came as a surprise. “For the Carnivale,” he’d said, “why don’t we hold a Pankration Tournament?” A solid idea, one that was met with mild resistance from everyone else until Neuvillette put his foot down. Perks of being the newly reigning Hydro Sovereign, Wriothesley supposes. 

Fighting above ground was strange. The moves came familiarly but the sun beat down on them despite the upper levels of the Court of Fontaine partially obscuring it. Humid. Hot. Nothing like the cool depths of the Underground. 

But Wriothesley had put on a show in the ring nonetheless, indulging in a rare exhibition match, much to the ire of Sigewinne. “Too old,” she’d muttered, shaking her head, “to be beating others up for fun. You’re the Administrator now. You’re a Duke.” The  ‘act like one’ was heavily implied, but Wriothesley didn’t give one rat’s ass because the entire point was showing off for Neuvillette.

Which worked. Oh, did it work. Neuvillette watched from the viewer’s platform, stiff-backed and straight, cane in his hands caught in a white-knuckled grip. Others stared at him, but he stared at Wriothesley—a stare that Wriothesley felt burning right to his bones with every punch that he threw.

He was whisked away the moment the match was over. Neuvillette made a flimsy excuse that covered them both, and they retired to his townhouse for the remainder of the evening. Wriothesley expected a nice dinner, maybe a bath, and then relaxing in the sheets. 

Wriothesley did not expect Neuvillette to tug him to the bedroom and kiss him feral, nothing but fangs, and that damnable forked tongue of his. Which is where they are now, slotted together, one of Neuvillette’s thighs shoved between Wriothesley's legs. It’s all consuming. Neuvillette devours him like Wriothesley is a meal, like he’s a man starving in the middle of the desert.

“Sweetheart,” mutters Wriothesley, trying to get Neuvillette to pause. “Hey, hey—”

“So strong.” Neuvillette nips at his neck, just a playful tease. “Watching you out there, I—” He moans, a sharp, deep sound that is a rarity. Neuvillette is typically far more reserved in this, but here, now, he’s a needy and wanton thing who pulls Wriothesley close to grind their hips together.

Neuvillette is hard. He ruts against Wriothesley hard, his grip on Wriothesley’s hips biting. 

Wriothesley looses tittering laughter. “Are you all worked up?” He knows that Neuvillette is to have whisked them away so readily. “I thought so. I saw you practically fucking me with your eyes out there.”

Neuvillette growls softly at that, reminding Wriothesley just how inhuman he is. But Wriothesley loves it, wants to draw more of that out. He smirks, dipping close, biting at the edge of Neuvillette’s mouth. 

“They all saw it, sweetheart. What’s the Sovereign going to do, staring at his mate so openly?”

“The Sovereign?” questions Neuvillette, his demeanor chilling ever so slightly. His touch eases, trailing up and down Wriothesley’s sides. 

A few seconds pass before Wriothesley realizes what it is that he wants. Heat drops into his stomach, his groin, and everything flares to life. This—Wriothesley loves this, loves him. “My Sovereign,” he corrects. “What do you want? For me to suck you off?”

“I want to wrestle you,” says Neuvillette instead. 

Wriothesley stills at that. The moment doesn’t die, but it does become confusing, and Wriothesley can’t help but pull back with a furrowed brow. “Er, come again?”

Neuvillette offers him a soft chuckle. He leans forward, invading his space again, and elaborates with, “You were so strong out there, Wriothesley. A worthy partner. Did you know that dragons enjoy wrestling their mates? We’ve never done this, you and I, nor have I ever cared to. But today…” He hums softly, eyes fluttering closed before pressing his nose to Wriothesley’s temple. “You smelled like sin. Powerful. Divine. My instincts are begging for me to claim you, beloved.”

Wriothesley is into that. Oh, he is so very into that. His cock twitches to full hardness at the mere thought. But also— “And if I win?”

Neuvillette reels back and cups his chin. “You?” he purrs. “Win?”

So, it’d be a lie for Wriothesley to say that tone didn’t do something to him. Heat sinks into his gut, settling there, thick and heady. Neuvillette isn’t being mean, he’s just stating a fact, and even if Wriothesley thought he’d have an edge, he cannot possibly compare to the power of a Sovereign.

But to wrestle, to push and pull at each other, if only for the fun of it… Wriothesley’s mouth curls into a smirk, and he says, “Sounds like a challenge—the kind of challenge you know that I like. Go on, then.”

Neuvillette moves immediately, grabbing hold of Wriothesley, and tossing him onto the bed. The frame creaks underneath their combined weight, Neuvillette settling over him. Wriothesley pushes, throwing his weight against him for a topple, but Neuvillette holds firm. 

“Beloved,” he says, fingers grazing Wriothesley’s sides, “are you even trying?”

Fight swells in Wriothesley. He knows he won’t win, but he can try. He grunts, tossing everything he has into his next grapple. Hands against wrists, legs around Neuvillette’s waist—Wriothesley manages to twist him onto his back. 

But Neuvillette is strong—so fucking strong—and Wriothesley often forgets that because he’s usually so soft-handed. It lasts about a moment before Wriothesley is tossed aside once more. He squirms and manages to free himself from Neuvillette’s grasp. 

Too slow. Wriothesley always thought he was quick until Neuvillette proved him wrong with his serene, slick grace. Neuvillette launches across the bed in a fluid movement, hands hooking around Wriothesley’s hips. He yanks him back. Settles against the swell of Wriothesley’s ass, grinding against it. 

Wriothesley moans, pressing back against him. He throws a glance over his shoulder and says, “You like this, don’t you? Tossing me around?”

“There is an undeniable interest in the way you react.” Neuvillette hisses, rolling his hips against him a second time. But then he lets go, pulling away. “Again.”

So they go at each other again, and again, and again. Wriothesley winds up on his back with Neuvillette astride his waist, leaning over to nip at his neck. On his side, Neuvillette’s calves locked around Wriothesley in a tight leg lock. Neuvillette touches him slowly, hands wandering over the bulge of Wriothesley’s muscles to trace them. 

Wriothesley moans, jerking, but oh, he loves this, Neuvillette giving in to his power and instincts. “Sweetheart, please.”

“Again,” says Neuvillette, nipping at his jaw, his throat. 

Fuck, that’s hot. Wriothesley whines, holding his face there by the back of the neck. “What do you—Neuvillette? What do you like about this?”

Neuvillette trills against his skin, mouthing at it, sucking a bruise at the juncture of his neck and shoulder. It’s too hot. Neuvillette’s only managed to pull off his shirt and belt so far, and Wriothesley’s trousers are too tight against his aching cock. The manhandling, the weight of his mate against him, all of it is nearly too much for him. Neuvillette bites, those fangs sinking into his skin, dragging a deep groan from Wriothesley’s mouth. He’s hard too, rutting against him, the bulge in his clothing too large to be just one problem. 

“Both?” 

“I—Wriothesley.” Neuvillette’s hands find him again, claws digging into the supple skin of his sides. He twists him, throwing Wriothesley onto his front until he’s face-first in the mattress. 

A hand drags down the length of his spine, thumbing over every notch. He pulls at Wriothesley’s trousers, yanking them down roughly without even undoing them. Wriothesley is thankful they’re loose enough, that they’re able to slide off without much issue. They’re tossed to the side unceremoniously, leaving his backside entirely exposed. 

He’s so hard. Wriothesley. His cock hangs beneath him, hard and heavy, and Neuvillette stares, unable to look away, brushing his knuckles across his swollen balls. 

The mattress shifts under Neuvillette’s weight. He presses his chest against Wriothesley’s back, his mouth falling next to his ear. “Beloved,” he murmurs, “can you feel what you do to me?”

Yes, yes. Neuvillette grinds both of his cocks against the cleft of Wriothesley’s ass. Wriothesley’s mouth goes dry at the weight of those cocks, at the promise of getting well fucked because Neuvillette is in a rare mood. He needs it, all keyed up and hot; rolls his hips back against Neuvillette with a slow, sensual grind.

“Perfect.” Neuvillette presses his nose against Wriothesley’s temple and inhales deeply. “You were perfect, out there. So strong, so handsome. No one else could compare and you beat them all. Such a worthy mate.”

“Neuvillette—”

“But in these sheets,” continues Neuvillette, kissing the shell of his ears, “you are mine, heeling for me alone. For all of your bark, there is no bite, not in the same way I offer.” Fangs pull at Wriothesley’s earlobe wickedly. 

“Fuck,” curses Wriothesley. He needs that, needs more. Whatever Neuvillette wants to give him, whatever he’s willing to offer up. 

“Can you be good for me, sweet boy?”

Wriothesley nods and lets loose a soft, keening sound that’s lost in the silk sheets.

Neuvillette’s palm sinks into the space between his shoulder blades, heavy as it presses him into the bed. Chest down. Ass up. Wriothesley whines when Neuvillette pulls away, leaving him bereft. 

“Wait—”

“Shh,” soothes Neuvillette, a hand falling against the small of his back. “You’ve been so good for me. You put up such a wonderful fight. I’m so, so pleased.”

That’s, that’s—The praise sinks into Wriothesley's skin. Trickles down into his gut where it’s a kernel of heat about to blaze into a fire. “Sweetheart.” His voice is heavy and thick. 

Neuvillette’s thumb pets the knob of spine it rests against, tracing circles around it. “We aren’t done,” he murmurs. His other hand drags down Wriothesley’s sides, the tips of his claws raising pink marks. “We’re just barely beginning. This is wrestling too, isn’t it? The way that I wrestle with myself to keep from fucking you into the mattress.”

His words are teasing, lilting. Amused. “Stay,” he demands, the weight of his hand against Wriothesley’s back turning sharp as he leans into it. “Just like that. Be good for me.”

Yes, yes, he will. He hates the space between them, though, keening softly when Neuvillette pulls away entirely. Wriothesley hears the clatter of his trousers as Neuvillette undoes the fastenings. The rustle of fabric as he slips them off, tossing them to the side. His shirt is next, sliding across his skin. Wriothesley wishes he could look but he’s good, he’s so good. 

He jumps when Neuvillette’s hand falls against his ass, giving it a squeeze. Then he dips close, leaning over to press a kiss against it. A graze of Neuvillette’s teeth is  all that he gets before they sink into the soft muscle like a knife through butter.

Wriothesley curses. “Fuck, fuck—”

Neuvillette licks at the bite mark, suckling at the skin to soothe it. “Pretty thing,” he murmurs, biting at him again in a different spot. Wriothesley cannot wait to see those marks later, to relish in the purple bruises, for Neuvillette to trace them idly with his fingertips later on. “Laid out, like a feast, just for me.”

“Please,” he moans. “Sweetheart, I need—”

“More, no doubt. Mmhn, yes I know. I can smell your desire. I smelled your desire all the way back in the square. Did you enjoy showing off for me?”

“Yes.”

“As I thought.” Neuvillette’s tongue is wet and cold against his ass. “Delicious,” he mutters, licking a stripe from Wriothesley’s balls, through the seam of his crack. 

But then he pulls away. And Wriothesley is left aching and empty—far too empty. 

“Spread them, please,” requests Neuvillette politely, reaching up to pull Wriothesley’s arm behind him until his hand rests against his ass. “Hold yourself open for me.”

Wriothesley shifts, grabbing at himself with both hands until he’s on his chest, and his neck resting awkwardly against a pillow. He’s comfortable enough to manage. Besides, the way that Neuvillette stares at him like a man starving is well worth any discomfort.

A thumb drags over Wriothesley’s hole, petting it. “Look at you,” purrs Neuvillette. 

“More,” says Wriothesley. “Neuvillette, I’m dying here.”

“Then show me,” says Neuvillette, “just like you showed off for me earlier. Beloved, open yourself up for me.”

Oh. Oh. Wriothesley licks at his lips and tosses a glance over his shoulder. Neuvillette’s gaze is hot, heady. His palm is slick with Hydro, and he drips it onto Wriothesley’s hole.

“Okay.” Wriothesley sweeps his fingers through the wetness. “Yeah, okay, I can do that.” He presses in not one, but two, and sucks in a sharp breath. The quicker he can do this, the quicker Neuvillette can fuck him—

Neuvillette said that he realizes. He said the word fucking, and that does things to Wriothesley, so he shoves his fingers in as deep as they’ll go, bullying his rim until it's soft and pliant.

A sharp gaze watches him, pale irises practically glowing in the low lamplight. Wriothesley spreads his fingers and hole wide, and Neuvillette’s mouth parts in reaction. His forked tongue traces the length of his bottom lip. Thinking untoward things, no doubt. 

Wriothesley smiles. “Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette meets his face with a smoldering look that sets Wriothesley’s insides on fire. He has both cocks out tonight, unable to hold full control over his form, and strokes one idly as the other rests against his thigh, fully erect. “Wriothesley,” he replies. 

“You going to fuck me with both?”

“I—” All of Neuvillette’s bravado wavers away, concern pinching his brow. “I wasn’t planning on—”

“You better,” cuts in Wriothesley. “I beat others up just to show you that I can. Then you wrestled me in these sheets, leaving me all hot and bothered. You can’t pull out both and not fuck me both.”

“Wriothesley.” 

He shoves a third finger into himself and lets loose a long, drawn out moan. It’s a tight squeeze, but fuck it feels good. Wriothesley drills his fingers into himself, fucking his ass open. “Sweetheart,” he mutters, “are you going to take your prize?”

Neuvillette’s gaze sharpens. “You—you.” His thumb traces the slick rim of Wriothesley’s hole. “You want both,” he murmurs, not a question, but an observation, an expectation. That thumb sinks in beside Wriothesley’s three fingers, and gods above, it’s a lot. 

A gentle tug. A soft trilling sound as Neuvillette praises him for how easily he opens up. “What a good mate,” he says, slotting close, taking the longer, thicker of his cocks and pulling the tip across the swell of round of Wriothesley’s backside. A wet trail is left in its wake, chilling in the air. 

“I don’t want it slow.” Wriothesley is full, four fingers deep, and he still wants more. Hard and fast. Unrelenting. “Baby, please.”

“Needy,” chides Neuvillette with a click of his tongue. “What happened to my powerful mate?”

“He needs you. Neuvillette. Do you know how hard my dick was out there in the ring?” Enough so to be distracting. 

Neuvillette’s mouth curls into a sinful grin, and that thumb hooked inside Wriothesley drags through his slick, hot heat, dripping more Hydro directly inside. “I told you I smelled it. There is so little that you can hide from me.” 

He pulls out his thumb, and then Wriothesley’s fingers, his hole clenching around nothing. “Both,” Neuvillette muses then, slicking his ovipositor first. “So both you shall get.”

Neuvillette enters Wriothesley with a sharp, hard thrust. That spade-shaped tip helps ease the way, but Wriothesley is so suddenly full that he cries out, fingers curling tightly into the sheets. Hot and heavy. Thick and long. Neuvillette is already pulling out and fucking back in before Wriothesley’s brain can even catch up with the sensation. 

Fucking you into the mattress, he’d threatened. Wriothesley moans, trapped between him and the sheets, his cock dripping a mess all over them. There will be complaints later when Neuvillette notices, but he’s too lost in the moment, in the tight heat of Wriothesley’s ass. 

“Mine,” he hisses, his cock pounding into Wriothesley’s prostate.

It won’t take much more. Wriothesley was almost there before and is nearly to the end right now, his cock aching for release—but he doesn’t touch himself. He reaches back and holds himself open, and Neuvillette drives his cock into him hard and fast. 

His other cock, the smaller, human-shaped one meant to expel semen, rests against the cleft of his crack. Slides against his skin, wetter and slicker with every deep grind. Not enough. It’s not enough. Wriothesley needs more, needs that other cock inside him too. 

“Full, but—”

“Mate.” Neuvillette breathes the word, derailing any rational thought that Wriothesley may have had. “Beloved, you feel perfect. So tight, so, so—” The praises drips from his mouth and warms Wriothesley’s being. 

“The other. Neuvillette please. I need it. I need more, harder—something.”

Neuvillette’s next thrust is harder than the rest, his thighs smacking against Wriothesley’s ass with a sharp sound. And then he slows to a deep, languid crawl that carves through Wriothesley’s insides. “What a fighter,” he says, stroking his other cock, slicking it up with a palm of Hydro. “So powerful and yet here, you are on your knees begging for both of my cocks.”

This sort of dirty talk is a rare thing so Wriothesley drinks it up. He moans, wriggling his hips, fucking back onto Neuvillette’s dick. 

“Be still.” A harsh command that comes with a hand against the small of Wriothesley’s back.

Wriothesley stills with a whine.

“Perfection,” says Neuvillette then, his thumb tracing his rim where it’s stretched smooth around his length. It dips in alongside it, and it stings so good. Wriothesley needs more. He needs— “I know, beloved.” 

He pulls out, leaving a raw, gaping hole in Wriothesley’s being. But then both of his cocks are pressed against him, and Wriothesley falls right back into the trap of his need.

Neuvillette is kinder as he eases both in, slower with his movements, unwilling to hurt him. But those cocks sink in easily. They slip right to the root, fully sheathed inside of him. Wriothesley lets out a broken cry as he goes lax in the sheets, overcome by the fullness, the thickness of both of Neuvillette’s cocks. 

He leans closer, chest to Wriothesley’s back. That angle changes. Grinds deep—so deep that Wriothesley is seeing stars. Feels it in this throat and wonders if he can choke on it. 

Already, Neuvillette’s cocks are twitching. An arm snakes around Wriothesley’s front, tilting him just so, hand moving to rest against his stomach. Neuvillette gives experimental thrust that leaves Wriothesley loose-limbed in the bed. Toes curling. Crying out an unintelligible version of his name. 

And Neuvillette is so gone, so hopelessly lost in his mate. He praises him, mouth pressed against Wriothesley’s ear as he pins him to the bed. It’s a slow, sensual grind of his cocks, heavy-hitting ruts that set Wriothesley’s blood boiling. His pleasure is like flash fire, quickly consuming, as bright as the sky. Wriothesley tries to meet those thrusts, tries to force Neuvillette’s cocks deep with every down stroke.  

“You thought you’d win,” muses Neuvillette with sinful words. “You thought you could wrestle me and come out on top.”

“Have I not?” Wriothesley’s words are sharp, the tail end of them bitten off by a moan as Neuvillette’s cocks rattle him to the bone. “You’re the one unable to hold back. Both of your dicks? Sweetheart, your form was crumbling at the sight of me. You can’t help yourself.”

Neuvillette nips at the shell of his ear and delivers a swifter thrust, one that leaves the both of them reeling. But he doesn’t deny it because Wriothesley is right—Neuvillette’s already close to the edge, shaking and tense against his back as an orgasm threatens to drag him under. 

“Mate.” Neuvillette drops his face, nuzzling at Wriothesley’s neck. “Mine. But you are right, you are nothing but a terrible temptation, and I love you for it.”

Wriothesley swallows around the lump in his throat. He’s so full of everything; Neuvillette’s praise, his love, his dicks.

“Can you come from this alone?”

Wriothesley can. He’s so close, so near to the end already, he wouldn’t even need to grind against the sheets. “Yes, yes.”

“Then perhaps I do win,” murmurs Neuvillette, “if I can bring you to completion with only my cocks.”

He’ll let him have that. “Just—there. Fuck, just like that, sweetheart.” 

Wriothesley shudders as Neuvillette’s fucks into him again with a sharp snap of his hips. Heat burns through him, welling up. He clings to the sheets, pulling at the silk with his fingers. It’s almost too much, being so full. Neuvillette whispering praise into his ear, the harsh slap of their skin, and Neuvillette’s hand petting the space underneath his navel. 

“I can feel myself here,” he tells Wriothesley, dragging circles over the bulge there. “You’re so full of my cocks, taking me so well. Be that I could, I’d breed you properly.”

Oh. Oh. Neuvillette’s gone. Wriothesley gasps at that, gasps at the promise of other terribly sordid things murmured against his temple. Neuvillette has a way with saying such filth when he tries, and it leaves Wriothesley reeling, and his cock so hard it’s beyond aching, it’s painful.

He fucks back against Neuvillette. Those dangerous cocks sink in to the root, catching his prostate, and Wriothesley comes with a shout. Suddenly. Quickly. He spills all over the sheets in spurts, grinding back onto Neuvillette’s lengths as everything goes numb.

Only the pleasure—that’s all he feels. Neuvillette’s hand against his stomach, and his chest against his back. “Just like that,” he says, kissing WRiothesley’s sweaty temple. “So tight, so—just like that. Good boy.”

One more thrust, and then another has Neuvillette coming with the smaller, more human cock. His spends inside Wriothesley, flooding his insides. Another few, sharp thrusts, and he groans, his other cock coming as well, thicker, tackier, more viscous. 

All of it wet. Thick. Full, he’s so full.

Wriothesley melts in the sheets, moaning in his overstimulation. Pleasure still rips through him, guiding by the slow, easy grinding of Neuvillette’s still half-hard cock. 

“Perfect.” Neuvillette is still plastered against his back, his chest rumbling with pleasure. “Wonderful, boy. I love you.”

“I—yeah. That.” Wriothesley finds that it’s hard to speak, that his throat is dry, and the words get lodged in his mouth.

Neuvillette laughs. “We both win,” he teases. “There is nothing wrong with compromise. Did you enjoy it?”

Gods yes. Neuvillette wrestling him around and about, the weight of his being shoving Wriothesley into the mattress? Again, please. Maybe he’ll ask later. For now, Wriothesley’s limbs are nothing but jelly, well fucked and blissed out. 

“Mhmn, yeah.”

Neuvillette soaks up the closeness, the feel of him for a moment before pulling back. A hand smooths down WRiothesley’s back, rubbing out the strain in his muscles. Squeezes his ass and spreads his cheeks for a long, lustful look. A thumb traces Wriothesley’s rim before slowly pulling out. 

Another purr at the sight of Wriothesley’s wrecked hole, Neuvillette’s come spilling out. It’s scooped up and pressed back in, two of his fingers sliding into Wriothesley’s guts. 

“Divine,” he says, teasing Wriothesley’s swollen prostate, but eases up when Wriothesley looses a soft whine of discomfort. “Ah. Alright, beloved, I hear you.”

Wriothesley groans in the sheets, but smiles. Neuvillette is so good at reading him. He retreats gently, this time manhandling Wriothesley over onto his back with care. 

He melts into the sheets. Neuvillette slides close, pressing against his side, face tucked into the crook of Wriothesley’s neck. He rubs against him, scenting him, relishing the aftermath of their lovemaking with wandering hands, and licks from that rough, forked tongue. 

“Neuvillette. Sweetheart.”

“Mate,” replies Neuvillette, brushing back his bangs. “Perhaps we should play-fight more often.”

“Yes,” comes Wriothesley’s immediate reply. 

Neuvillette snorts. “As expected.” A pause as he pets down Wriothesley’s sternum. “A bath?”

A bath sounds wonderful. Wriothesley tilts towards him, catching Neuvillette’s mouth in a sweet, soft kiss. “You’ll have to carry me there. I don’t think I can walk.”

He aches, a dull throb pinching the spot right at the base of his spine, but it’s a good ache, one that just makes him think of Neuvillette, and how fucking good he is to him. Others wouldn’t have indulged. Others wouldn’t have been so taken by his brazen display, or given into his demands. A cute game, one they’ll have to play again even if Wriothesley will lose every time.

But, maybe there’s truth to his words, that they both win this fight, that it’s nothing but a draw in the end where they wind up sweat-slick, and with the sheets drowning in come. 

Neuvillette hums softly. The bed dips underneath him as he moves, and Wriothesley scoops him up as if he weighs nothing. 

“Woooow,” teases Wriothesley, wrapping his arms around Neuvillette’s neck as he’s carried down the hall. “So strong. My hero.”

Neuvillette’s response is to dump him into the freezing-cold water, which, Wriothesley supposes, he asked for.