Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            The warm glow of lamplight illuminated the interior of the estate library, enclosing the space with the tranquility of intimacy. The normally quiet space was disrupted by staccato gasps and the rhythmic squelch of fingers as they slid in and out of a dripping wet cunt. Wriothesley’s cunt to be exact.

            He sat perched with his thighs splayed wide across the executive mahogany desk that sat stalwart and imposing in the middle of the room, edged by bookshelves galore. Neuvillette occupied the space between his thick thighs, hand hooked in the ruffled layers of white petticoats that constituted the bulk of Wriothesley’s uniform. Fanged teeth traced the scarred line of his throat, sucking claiming marks and lavishing dark bites along every centimeter available to him.

            Moans filled the air, Wriothesley’s thighs hiking up higher around the master of the estate’s hips as his fingers crooked deep inside him.

            “Is this how you’d like to spend the evening Monsieur?” The maid breathed over his shoulder, hands clenching into the fabric of his nicely ironed coat.

            “I have a plethora of plans for the evening, all of which involve you.” Neuvillette purred each word into the skin of his neck. Wriothesley couldn’t have stopped the curl of his lips into a pleased smile if he’d tried.

            “Music to my ears,” he whispered, clutching the master of the house ever closer.  

            Through the wide window behind the desk, he could see out into the estate grounds. As those long fingers pressed perfectly inside of him, he arched, pleasure curling all the way down to his toes. The window in his sight blurred softly as his thick lashes fluttered in delight. None of that stopped him from glimpsing the figure climbing over the outer garden wall, nor those that followed behind, crouched low to the ground with guns drawn.

            Well, the evening was seemingly becoming quite exciting.

            “Monsieur, it appears you have uninvited guests.” Wriothesley muttered, trying not to let the potential interruption dissolve the feel-good atmosphere they’d been cultivating. He observed as Neuvillette pulled away, only enough that he could glance over at one of the computer screens nearby, hooked up to the mansion-wide security system. Sure enough, there was movement on the grounds, on all sides of the estate. A considerable number of individuals attempting to infiltrate the secluded haven.

            “So, it seems. Likely another attempt at my hoard, or my life.” The deep sigh Neuvillette exhaled deflated his chest and spirits, the expression weighed down by a sadness that seemed to always resurface when he was reminded of who and what he was.

            Wriothesley hated to see him so.

            “One that will fail spectacularly.” In an instant he’d retrieved the pistol strapped securely to his thigh, and cocked it loudly, uncaring of the fact that his legs were still spread wide, although Neuvillette had the presence of mind to at minimum remove his fingers from inside his maid. “Why don’t we make a game of it, something to keep the evening headed in the trajectory you originally intended.”

            Wriothesley smirked, hooked one leg around the small of his master’s back and pulled him in, closing the distance between their mouths to place a searing kiss onto that pretty mouth. That did the trick, disrupting the frown that had been growing rapidly where once a smile had lived very recently. His attention once more returned fully to Wriothesley, as it should.

            “What do you propose?”

            “Give me a challenge,” Wriothesley whispered, their lips brushing with each word. “Tease me, make me fight while I’m thinking about only you and watch me carefully. Never take your eyes off of me.”

            Neuvillette pulled away a fraction, searching his face before the neutral expression transformed into something rather pleased. He eventually nodded, and so it would be. Neuvillette straightened his shoulders and Wriothesley helped lift the burden from upon them, if only for a moment.

            “I have just the thing. I was saving it for later tonight but, perhaps now is as optimal a time as any.” Long slender fingers reached over into a nearby drawer and pulled out a neatly coiled wire wrapped around a small device with rounded silicone edges. It was a familiar toy, one Wriothesley had seen and felt deep inside him on more than one occasion. The vibrator was a personal favorite of his and he suspected he knew where this was going.

            A quick glance out the window showed that those stupid enough to attempt to infiltrate the Hydro Dragon Sovereigns personal estate were taking their time, likely in the effort of being sneaky, unaware they’d long since been spotted and accounted for.

            “Do your worst,” Wriothesley grinned, full of sharp teeth and deadly excitement as Neuvillette dangled the vibrator from his grasp. The returning smirk told him everything he needed to know about how well he’d be able to walk and perform his various household duties tomorrow.

            With a tap of his finger to the electronic piece in his ear, Wriothesley turned on the intercom that he’d purposefully muted.

            “Clorinde, you there?” There was a faint crackle and then the line came to life.

            “Yes. You’re done being gross already? What are you, a two-pump chump?” The immediate dry and scathing tone informed him of exactly how much she’d heard before he’d remembered to mute the intercom earlier.

            “No, we have uninvited guests. Would you mind giving them our warmest welcome?” There was a pause and the distinct sound of a large gun being adjusted and then loaded with a solid clank.

            “It would be my pleasure. Are we taking prisoners?”

            “You’re not. I might,” Wriothesley glanced at Neuvillette, who deliberated for a moment and then nodded his approval.

            “Roger that.” She responded.

            “Excellent, keep them busy for a bit while I get…ready.” He trailed off at the end.

            “I swear if you make this into some kind of gross game—”

            “Too late.”

            “—Then I’m leaving for my date as soon as they’re off the grounds. Then they’re all your problem.” Clorinde’s snappish retort signaled the end of the conversation. With it the line went quiet and Wriothesley reached up to mute it once more. His cool blue-grey gaze landed back on the master of the household, who was looking at him expectantly.  

            Wriothesley wasted no time in hiking the layers of white and black fabric up higher than ever before, exposing both of his muscular and scarred thighs and the various straps attached to them as well as his glisteningly wet slit. He eyed the other man coyly, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion.

            “Would monsieur be so kind as to set me up with everything I might need tonight?”

            He didn’t have to ask twice.

            The distant echoing boom of Clorinde’s sniper rifle from the roof could be heard from inside as she picked off poor souls one by one on the lawn leading up to the house.

            Wriothesley smoothed his skirt out as he walked down the plush carpeted hallway, the heels of his thigh high boots sinking slightly into the nice material with each step and sway of his hips. It had taken some time to get used to the stiletto on these boots rather than the chunky platforms he used to wear, but as soon as he’d learned the benefits of having what was essentially an additional knife on the end of his foot, he’d been hard pressed to go back to his old footwear.

            The uniform overall had started as a joke, a lost bet made over a game of poker and whiskey late one night when Neuvillette had confessed he’d always thought Wriothesley would look pretty in a traditional maid outfit. He’d humored him, wagered their next hand on getting one made to wear for him some time. Little did he know at the time, how comfortable it would be, and how functional to boot. The freedom of movement granted by the shorter skirt was enough of an argument for its continued use, but the sheer amount of weaponry he could strap to his thighs and reach easily? More than useful. Not to mention how Neuvillette had gotten the uniform tailored to his body, so it fit like a glove and had eighteenth-century detachable pockets that he could store boxes upon boxes of ammo inside without having to carry a bag around. Truly, skirts were superior.

            Thus, it had become his norm. He felt good in it too, and thrived off the way Neuvillette’s gaze followed him around the house when he wore it. Especially when he would purposefully twist too quickly or bend over to straighten something and give the master of the house an eyeful of whatever panties he’d chosen to accompany the outfit that day. If he’d elected to wear any at all.

            Oh yes. Wriothesley was getting every single centimeter of milage out of the new uniform that he could. The only one complaining was Clorinde and she patrolled the grounds more often than the house, so her snarky comments about how his thighs were going to rip the stockings if he crouched down too quickly were not frequent enough to have a lasting impact on policy.

            “The rest have made it past the inner garden, I can’t get a clear shot anymore. There are nine dead on the lawn. At least seven made it into the house.” The intercom in his ear chirped to life.

            “You only left me seven?” He asked with a scoff, as he loaded bullets into his handheld pistol and checked that the second one was tucked neatly into it’s thigh holster.

            “Seven that I know of for certain. There are probably more hiding about. Don’t be an idiot.” She huffed and Wriothesley chuckled.

            “I’ll be fine. Besides I have a lot riding on this,” as if on cue, deep in his core, the vibrator came to life, a dull buzzing that instantly made his step falter a fraction as he sucked in a sharp breath. Oh that felt good, and Neuvillette had placed it so carefully deep inside him with his own fingers moments ago.

            Wriothesley stopped walking and squeezed his thighs together, biting his bottom lip as he adjusted to the first setting. They’d agreed to start it on the lowest, it would only get harder from here.

            “Gross. I’m clocking out and going home to my sexy, competent girlfriend. Have fun.”

            The line went dead and with that, Wriothesley was content to start the evening properly. He had no intentions of scarring Clorinde or any of the other staff, but what the master wanted he got. It just so happened that he wanted Wriothesley, frequently, in multiple rooms of the house. Dragons we’re built different and there had been more than one occasion he’d had to scold the other man for fucking him so hard he wasn’t able to do his job the next day. Those were the days Neuvillette took care of him in bed and honestly, it was difficult to find complaint with that.

            “Are you ready?” The deep baritone voice trailed after him, drawing his eyes as he headed for the stairs. Neuvillette leaned against the doorway to his bedroom on the third floor, the light spilling out around him, silhouetting his beautiful figure as if to remind Wriothesley how lucky he was to have such a heavenly being in his good graces.

            “More than. Am I meeting you in the bedroom afterwards? Or would you prefer to watch live?” He spun the pistol around his finger, a confident calmness coming over him, even as he felt some of his own slick start to drip down his inner thigh, following the path of the wire taped securely against his skin between the knives, guns, and other weapons he’d hidden up there.

            “I’ll watch. I enjoy observing the way you work,” Neuvillette nodded towards the stairs, the remote to the vibrator held loosely in his left hand. “Just remember Wriothesley.” His chin tilted upwards as he leveled a stern gaze upon his housekeeper. “You’re not allowed to cum until the job is complete, or I say otherwise. Do you understand? Punishments for disobeying orders will be severe.” His tone darkened considerably with each word and Wriothesley was a willing captive to the shiver that rocketed down his spine. He shifted his weight, rubbing his thighs together as heat pooled in his groin, stirred further by the consistent vibration against his inner walls.

            Wriothesley was so fucked, and he couldn’t wait to see how.

            “Yes Sir, understood.”

            As if on cue, there was the sound of shattering glass from the first floor and Wriothesley turned his attention to the threat at hand. He had a show to put on after all.

            Peering over the railing he could make out the smoke filling the ground level, and the figures moving within. How handy, they’d made cover for him. With measured steps he traversed his way down the grand staircase, eyes trained to find any movements below.

            As soon as Wriothesley picked out a shadow, he shot; once, twice, and watched whoever it was crumple to the ground. He ducked behind the banister, reloading instantly. At the top of the stairs Neuvillette observed silently, a crystal goblet of water in his hand as he spectated the performance. Wriothesley eyed him, as he slid his hand up his own inner thigh, peeling back layers of ruffles so he could ghost his fingers over a flash bang grenade. He made a show of unhooking it, flashing a hint of his wet black lacy undergarments before he dropped the skirt once more and ripped the pin from the grenade. Wriothesley didn’t even bother looking as he threw it over the banister, counting quietly to eight.

            “Six, seven, Eight—” he muttered. Grasping the railing firmly, he used the leverage to vault himself over the banister, plummeting two stories towards the landing. He closed his eyes, skirt flying up around his waist, listened for the bang of the grenade, and saw the red of the inside of his eyelids as it illuminated the first floor and stunned those awaiting him down below. He cracked his eyes open at the last second as he adjusted his trajectory. There was an infiltrator just below, to the right and he aimed for them, bending his right knee so he could aim more precisely with his left heel.

            The lovely volunteer broke his fall beautifully as he took a knee to the face and a heel to the chest. Wriothesley tumbled into a forwards roll, immediately pivoting and firing two shots into the chest of the man acting as his impromptu landing pad upon planting his feet. He shifted in his low crouch, peering through the smoke, counting vertical shadowed forms within its depths. Three more in this room.

            Wriothesley launched his attack, gaze sharpening into a menacing calm towards those who dared threaten his master and the peaceful life he wanted to live. And those who dared interrupt the sex Wriothesley had been about to enjoy before their untimely arrival.

            “Welcome gentlemen! May I take your—” He dove forward, knocked the muzzle of a machine gun aside and flipped the pistol in his hand, “-bags?” The butt of his gun found a home inside the goon’s face, where the cartilage of his nose had likely lived several seconds earlier.

            Wriothesley heard his sharp gasp of pain, ignored the spray of blood and instead wrestled the machine gun from the invaders’ grip. He turned it on the man, punching him in the gut with the back of it, only to thrust the weight of the weapon upwards into the underside of his jaw in the next breath, knocking him clear off his feet with the force alone.

             He turned, thick chest heaving through the thin white linen of the uniform, his recent target falling to the ground in pain, grasping at his bloody face. The smoke dissipated slowly, revealing the two others looking at him with mouths and eyes open wide.

            “No? No bags? I apologize for the mess, you’ve caught us at an inopportune moment. You see my master wasn’t expecting guests this evening,” He cocked the stolen machine gun and fired it, landing a round of shots into the stomach of the man on the ground writhing beneath the heel he’d planted firmly on his chest.

            “Is…is that a man in a dress?” One of them whispered to the other.

            “Clearly he’s a maid.” The other hissed back, fumbling with the heavy gun in his hands as he aimed it as best he could at Wriothesley in his rampant confusion.

            “I am indeed the keeper of this house. I am also the head of security—” Wriothesley cut off abruptly as Neuvillette chose that very opportunity to crank up the vibration of the toy inside him. He swallowed his moan and removed his foot from the chest of the dead man below him, inhaling shakily. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he choked out, adjusting to the increased intensity, barely fighting off the growing urge to grind his hips onto something. Anything.

            “Like fuck we’re leaving. I have a hefty paycheck riding on this job. Fuck you!” And with that he opened fire across the foyer.

            Wriothesley, having anticipated that, ducked low to the ground, scooped up the body of their friend and dragged him in front of him as a shield. His heels clicked dully against the marble floor as he sprinted towards cover. Each step shifted the vibrator inside his cunt and had his knees weak with sensation as it rubbed inside him, practically fucking his insides with how it shifted. The labored heave of his chest was entirely due to the device, as he finally came to a stop behind an ornate collum.

            Wriothesley tossed the extra body aside, frowning as bullets whizzed by, chipping the no doubt expensive column as they hit it repeatedly with their shoddy aim.

            “I’ll be adding property damage to your tab!” He called out as he tossed the mostly spent pistol aside and pulled several knives from their holstered pouches on his outer thighs. It was as he looked over his shoulder that he noticed the tear in his sleeve, the fabric falling off and exposing his skin in a provocative way. “Sonofabitch. And my tailoring bill!” He yelled out into the foyer, attempting to be heard over the concussive sound of machine gun fire.

            Wriothesley waited long enough for the shots to slow to a stop, knowing full well they needed to reload at some point. As soon as he heard the release of the chamber on one of the guns, he moved. Two powerful steps got him to the middle of the room, and with a hearty leap he turned an aerial over the gap between the columns. It offered him some height and maneuvered him above the stray bullets from the less inclined participant wielding a gun from beside the front door.

            At the apex of the jump, with his legs spread wide in a near split, an undoubtably glorious sight for the master of the house from his vantage point several floors up, he launched several of the knives across the room. They whistled through the air, slicing through it with deadly precision towards both targets.

            There was no time to see if they landed, his feet hitting solid ground once more with a loud clack. Immediately he was off, sprinting into the dining room and out of their line of sight. At minimum they were injured, and at best bleeding out on the floor with severed arteries.

            He nearly collided with another intruder as he swung around the corner, taking half a breath to be surprised before he used his last knife, jamming it up into the poor sucker’s throat as he pinned him to the wall.

            “Good evening!” the man only gurgled in surprise; his eyes wide as he choked on his own blood.  “I hope you have a lovely stay.” Wriothesley yanked the knife free, grunted exasperatedly when he realized it was quite stuck and cut his losses, letting it fall to the hardwood floor with the man, now turned body. A tragedy.

            The knife of course, not, the still warm corpse lying in a puddle of his own blood.

            Alas, there was no time to mourn the loss, continuing to move was key. If he stopped for too long the vibrations in his pussy would undoubtably send him careening over the edge into an orgasm that he was very much not allowed to have. As tempting as the thought was, to just give in and accept whatever punishment was in store for him, he wanted to hold out as long as possible.

            There was no fun in giving up before the game had even really started.

            Wriothesley launched himself across the dining room table, sliding to the other side gracefully, his skirt riding up on one side, exposing the black lace trimmed stockings that now sported several runs up the length of his leg.

            It was only three steps from his landing to the concealed servant’s stairwell and Wriothesley ascended it quickly, keeping to the balls of his feet to move as silently as possible. One the way up he yanked open a hidden panel, and from inside withdrew the fully loaded rifle kept stashed there for just such occasions. It settled over his shoulder like a friend, the strap secured with his right hand while the left dipped beneath the fluff of his skirt once more, yanking free one of several grenades.

            It was nearly carefree, the way he yanked the pin out with his teeth and tossed the contained explosive device over his shoulder, down the stairs he’d run up. A grin stretched across his face, as he emerged on the second landing, his footsteps softened into obscurity by the plush sapphire blue runner that stretched the entire length of the hallway.

            Said grin was promptly wiped off his face at a hearty jolt in his core, the vibrator suddenly jumping in intensity. Wriothesley’s hand smacked into the nearest wall, a groan torn from his lips at the sudden assault to his cunt. He took a deep shuddering breath, in through the nose out through the mouth, and attempted to straighten back up as he adjusted to the new pace of their game.

            Slick fluid coated his inner thighs, and he cursed as he had to lean back against the nearby wall or risk tumbling to the ground, his legs trembling faintly as he fought the insistent urge to grind his cunt against anything, even the air.

            “Fucking fuck—” he swore softly, fighting the intense flush he could feel staining his cheeks all the way to his ears. He needed something thicker than a vibrator, needed to be pinned down and spread open on both of Neuvillette’s cocks at once. Archons he was barely keeping it together.

            The sound of an explosion cascaded up the stairwell behind him immediately accompanied by the sound of poorly directed gunfire. Typical.

            With a force of will that could have easily been classified as legendary, he shoved away from the wall and made himself take several steps. The first two sucked, his exhale coming out as a hiss as his pussy clenched tightly around the still vibrating toy. The next step came easier, and the fourth he had to plant firmly into the carpet as two idiots rounded the corner at the end of the hallway.

            The rifle was in his hands in seconds, both infiltrators lined up in his sights as he slowed his steps and took his shots. The butt of the gun kicked against his shoulder where it was braced. He squeezed the trigger, reloaded, lined up the second participant and fired again.

            “Fuck! What the fuck kind of maid are you?!” The one he’d been kind enough to shoot in the leg screamed from where he’d crumbled to the floor. Wriothesley smirked as he approached, taking slow measured steps in his high heeled boots as he lined up another shot.

            “I am Monsieur Neuvillette’s esteemed housekeeper. I am keeping house—” He fired, watching the way the force of the bullet flattened the individual to the floor as it struck his shoulder, “because I take my job very seriously.” The rifle found its home once more swung over his shoulder as Wriothesley approached his prey at that same slow, measured pace. Partly because he was certain he would collapse if he moved any quicker, the quiver in his legs becoming nearly unbearable, but mainly he knew it was intimidating to approach slowly. As if he had nowhere better to be.

            “You’re insane. He’s a dragon, you know that, right? A dragon! They kill people and eat them!”

            Wriothesley chuckled, the sound low and threatening as he paused right next to his newest target. The man had enough fight left in his to lash out with a knife, but it was sent skittering across the floor as he kicked it brutally from his hand. The heel of his shoe landed directly on the appendage, pinning him like a beetle to a board.

            “He doesn’t kill people. I kill people.” He watched the hope drain away from the man’s face.

            “How could you—”

            “Easily. He has always been kind to me. You and yours? Not so much. I know who you work for. Personally." Wriothesley crouched down, ignoring the screamed complaint as the heel of his shoe dug into the back of his hand, crushing bone, and jabbed a finger into the embroidered emblem on his bulletproof vest. “They’re lying to you ya know? All of it, lies.”

            “Yeah, fucking right! Like I’m going to listen to you! H-How would you even know?” He spat at him and Wriothesley blinked placidly as he reached up and wiped the saliva from his cheek.

            “Well, that was rather rude. I know—” his hand shot out and cinched tight like a vice around the gentleman’s throat, “—because I used to be one of you. Where do you think I learned everything I know?” One dark eyebrow arched upwards as concern flared in the eyes below him. It very quickly turned to stubbornness as he tried to fight off the hold Wriothesley had managed to secure. With a sigh, he pulled his second pistol from the holster on his other thigh and pressed it to the soldier’s chest, right over his heart. “They really train the critical thinking right out of you, don’t they?” He muttered, discharging the gun at point blank range.

            Blood splattered his face and the pristine white blouse covering his sizeable pecs. Well…it needed repairs now anyway. In fact, there was a new tear in the skirt, one that exposed the greater part of his right thigh and all of the equipment strapped to his leg. Wriothesley tugged at the hem and pursed his lips in displeasure. He’d not intended to end up fighting in the semi nude but if it came down to it, he was willing to make the sacrifice.

            With an audible complaining pop from both of his knees and an exhale weighed down by his innumerable responsibilities, Wriothesley stood. That was a mistake as he instantly felt the vibrator shift inside him, the heels forcing his back to straighten or risk taking a spill across the floor, causing it to suddenly press right up against his anterior wall, the intense vibrations travelling as far as his clit.

            “Oh hell—!” His right hand flew to his cunt, pressing against it through the soaked panties as he bit the back of his left hand, the pistol hanging loosely from his grip as tears gathered and stung the corners of his eyes.

            “Going to cum already, are you?” Neuvillette’s voice floated down from above him, teasing him in more ways than one when Wriothesley recognized the hint of gravitas tainting his usually smooth tone. A sheer sign that he was enjoying the sight of Wriothesley’s torment. Neuvillette wasn’t crass enough to blatantly stroke his cocks while he watched Wriothesley clean house, but the implication that he would if he could, was entirely present in his tone.

            Sharp crystal blue eyes ringed with gold flicked upwards, catching lavender irises framed by blue lashes as their owner leaned over the third-floor banister watching him intently. The remote was held loosely in his hand, thumb hovering over the dial. Wriothesley squirmed where he stood at the obvious threat.

            “No. I’m doing just fine,” Wriothesley reloaded the pistol and bluffed through his gritted teeth. He could do nothing to conceal the red heat staining his cheeks, a violent blossoming pink.

            “Good. There are more on the second floor. I suppose if you’re doing so well, perhaps I should up the challenge?” His pretty thumb slid tantalizingly over the dial.

            “No! I mean—” he cleared his throat pointedly. “No Sir. This is, more than enough for now.”  His heart thundered in his chest, well aware that if Neuvillette called his bluff he would likely orgasm right then and there with how wound tightly he was. He watched the internal debate, through the expressive windows to Neuvillette’s soul, Wriothesley’s fate upheld only by how generous the master of the house felt in that moment.

            “If it is sufficient then I will let it be. For now.” The threat loomed, and only served to make heat anew flare in Wriothesley’s groin, leaking from his cunt further down his thighs. At this point the top of his stockings were dampened, something that would likely be itchy and uncomfortable later.

            “What do you say in response to my generosity?” Neuvillette inquired with a perfectly arched brow.

            “Th-thank you Sir,” Wriothesley cocked the gun and with steps that were far too shaky he continued on his merry way.

            It didn’t get easier, but he hadn’t expected it to. Clorinde, however, was a filthy liar. Seven she’d said; it was easily closer to 15.

            By the time he slammed his knee upwards into seemingly the last agents face, Wriothesley was dripping sweat, and he could hardly catch a breath. If only it were from the combat alone, but no, it was from holding himself back. He’d been dancing on the knifes edge of pleasure for the better half of twenty minutes now and he didn’t know how much more he could take.

            Every part of him tingled, ached to be touched, the nerves of his body firing insistently with each shift of his hips.

            Neuvillette abruptly cranked the vibrator up once more, without warning, and it was with a startled cry that Wriothesley sank to his knees, thighs spread wide as his hips jerked uselessly. His hands slammed onto the floor as he shivered, unable to halt his broken moaning.

            He should just cum, really, he should just get it over with and accept whatever punishment was in store for him. It would be easier that way and at least then he could concentrate on the task at hand. There couldn’t be anyone left right? He’d been through all the first and the second floor already, unless they’d decided to coalesce in the basement for unknown reasons, that was probably everyone. Right?

            The prospect of giving in made his stubbornness flare to life, aided by his desire to follow the orders given to him, to do a good job at this assignment.

            “Fuck-! Neuvillette…” He openly moaned his master’s name, no doubt a sight with his torn uniform and the shiny wet rivulets visibly coating both of his inner thighs. His panties were soaked, the black material darkened and sticky where it clung to his skin. The urge to touch overwhelmed him, and he slid two of his fingers over the wet fabric, pressing them between the folds, rubbing up through the material against his aching clit. His lashes fluttered, the friction like scratching a particularly stubborn itch, satisfying in a toe-curling way. It took the edge off but, where he’d planned to stop himself immediately, he couldn’t, and quickly found himself rubbing his cunt through his wet panties like a man desperate.

            It felt damn good. The only thing better would have been Neuvillette’s cocks but there was no conceivable way he could take either of those in that moment without instantly cumming. Even the thought of shoving his own fingers into his cunt had him gasping.

            “Wriothesley. Where are you currently?”

            The earpiece came to life, Neuvillette’s voice caressing his inner ear as if he were right behind him. It was too much to hear him suddenly so close. Wriothesley yanked his hand away from his soaked cunt, biting into the torn sleeve of his maid uniform as he shook with the effort of not tipping over the edge.

            Yeah, touching himself had been a mistake. He was going to lose this challenge.

            “S-Second floor…Parlor—” Wriothesley’s voice hitched. He buried his face in the crook of his elbow, painfully aware of how vulnerable he currently was face down ass up in the middle of the parlor atop the artisanal rug. An unconscious, possibly dead, man with a smashed in face no more than three feet away.

            “How are you faring? Do you require assistance?” Neuvillette’s smug tone only served to further Wriothesley’s torment, and his frustrated growl wasn’t one he could have stopped even if he’d tried.

            “No. I’m fine.” Each word was forced out between his teeth. With the determination of one that had seen the depths of hell and single handedly fought his way out; Wriothesley dragged his feet underneath himself and using the nearby leather armchair judiciously, stumbled to his feet.

            “You sound decidedly not fine. Should I turn the vibrator down?” Sweet man, he did sound genuinely concerned for the briefest moment.

            “No. Is there anyone else in the house?” Wriothesley stared at the chair, kneeling on the seat to help stabilize himself in any conceivable way.

            “Only one more. He’s in the ballroom.” Wriothesley groaned, the frustration of how far away the ballroom was painted clearly on every plane of his face.

            “Perfect. And you are where exactly?”

            “I’m on the third floor still. None of them have made it past you on the second floor. I’m quite impressed Wriothesley, even distracted you’ve done a remarkable job.”

            “What can I say, Monsieur. I live to serve,” his words were continually hissed through clenched teeth, and perhaps it was that sound that led Neuvillette to take pity on him.

            “You’ve been working fastidiously. Perhaps you deserve a reward so we might conclude these affairs. Wriothesley,” his pitch dropped suddenly and with it went Wriothesley’s panties, reservations and his ability to function. “Cum for me.”

            It was frankly stupid how well that worked, reinforced by the sudden pressure of the vibrator being cranked up to its top speed. Wriothesley doubled over the armchair he’d used to prop himself up, positively shaking as his cunt clenched and fluttered around the device inside his body. He came harder than he had in quite some time, so on edge and for so long that his vision briefly blurred, and he fell boneless into the chair.

            “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck—Sir, Oh shit!” His cries were drowned into the leather back of the chair as he all but collapsed into it, shaking apart at the seams, unraveled expertly by the deep voice of the man he loved more than anything in the world. It was all he could do to moan and whine as his release dripped through his underwear.

            “Hmn. It’s a shame I can’t see you right now. You sound divine Beloved.”

            Despite his tear blurred vision and disorientation as aftershocks rocked his body, relentlessly encouraged by the continued borderline painful vibration inside him, his lips curled upwards into a sweet smitten smile. This man, archons the things he was able to do to him. Not a day went by that Wriothesley wasn’t grateful for the moment of clarity he’d had all those years ago. When he’d realized that not all dragons were monsters and that he could atone for years of sins by swearing his eternal fealty to this one in particular. And the chance he’d been given, the forgiveness extended when it hadn’t been earned, he was forever grateful for that kindness.

            These post orgasm thoughts were far too deep and sappy for his liking. At least while he was still alone in the parlor, and not in the arms of the very dragon he was pining over.

            “Wriothesley, can you hear me?”

            “…Yes…More or less.” Wriothesley blinked away tears and peeled his face away from the leather of the chair. The room spun briefly before it righted, and with his arms braced firmly on the back, he slowly straightened back up.

            He’d made an absolute mess of the chair, slick fluid coating the seat and somehow in the midst of it all, despite the intense fluttering of his walls mid orgasm, the vibrator had managed to slip out of his cunt.

            “Good, because our one remaining guest is attempting to escape out through the ballroom balcony.”

            “ Sonofabitch!” Wriothesley didn’t even think twice before he cut his losses and sliced the panties off with the last hunting knife he had on hand, ridding himself of their soiled wet presence forever. He shoved the vibrator, which had thankfully been turned off, back into his cunt and turned towards the door. He dashed out of the parlor, nearly eating shit as his jelly legs tried to send him careening into the wall instead of through the doorway. Years of training and life or death situations kicked in, adrenaline replacing the high of stimulation as he covered the expansive distance between parlor and ballroom in seconds.

            Like hell he was letting his perfect record be tarnished by one lily livered runaway.

            Wriothesley burst into the ballroom with the determination of a man with pride on the line, skirt nearly in tatters from the gash over his right thigh and the several places he’d narrowly dodged a knife during a bout of earlier hand-to-hand combat. It was a miracle the dress hadn’t fallen off completely.

            He spied the last target on the balcony, looking over the edge and assessing his options. Wriothesley didn’t give him a chance to make his own decision.

            His fist slammed into the infiltrator’s face, the crunch of a dislocated jawbone assuring him he’d landed a solid hit. The ache in his knuckles confirmed it, but he didn’t take even a second to shake it out. He swept their legs, and pounced, tackling the soldier directly to the ground. Wriothesley pinned them between his thighs and with one assured crack of the handle of the hunting knife hand against their temple, and the last of the soldiers went dark beneath him.

            Wriothesley’s chest heaved, and as the stillness settled around him on the balcony, he realized his bare ass was pressed uncomfortably to the rough material of the agent’s outer combat vest, and that became more than enough motivation to struggle back to his feet. His clit was still sensitive and even the brush of it against the rough texture as he clambered off was enough to have him sucking in a sharp breath.

            “Excellent as always Beloved. Are you hurt anywhere?” Neuvillette’s voice joined him on the balcony and Wriothesley spun to see him making his way down the external wrought iron spiral staircase that led from the ballroom to the third-floor loft balcony and eventually the roof. He was a sight for sore eyes, hair gleaming in the moonlight, not a single piece of clothing out of place. Untouched by the violence of the night. All as it should be.

            Wriothesley fell in love all over again, drowning in those lavender eyes as leaned against the balcony railing and finally indulged in a modicum of relaxation.

            “No, not hurt. Just extremely aroused,” his honesty was met with a delighted trilling noise that sped Wriothesley’s heart and lightened his life. It was no surprise that Neuvillette was before him in an instant, one hand sliding up his thigh, hiking up what remained of his petticoats as he hoisted Wriothesley’s leg up around his hips, slotting himself between his spread thighs.

            “Good, that’s exactly how I desire you.” Neuvillette’s other hand forwent the skirt entirely, brushing under fabric to caress his slick folds only to be met with no fabric barrier. A small noise of intrigue was made in his throat, causing Wriothesley to laugh breathlessly as those questing fingers flirted with his entrance, finding the cord to the vibrator.

            “Did you misplace your undergarments along the way?” Neuvillette inquired, smiling as their noses brushed and Wriothesley wrapped his arounds fully around his dragon’s neck.

            “They got dirty, so I cut them off. Are you upset?” Wriothesley leaned in, nibbled on Neuvillette’s bottom lip, tasting and teasing their mouths together in revenge of all the torment he’d endured that evening.

            “Not particularly. I was planning to rip them off you anyway.”

            “Hmn, I’m sad I took that opportunity away from you.” They both glanced down at his uniform, sharing a thought that Wriothesley took the liberty of voicing. “Why don’t you take me the master suite and rip the rest of this off me instead? It’s practically there already.”

            “I think that is exactly what I’ll do.” Neuvillette smiled lovingly and leaned in to kiss his housekeeper, his Beloved human, with a passion that rivaled the sun itself.

Chapter Text

            Neuvillette hoisted the barely-dressed maid up into his arms, hands settled firmly on the roundness of Wriothesley’s ass, made easily accessible through the layers of torn petticoats. The housekeeper laughed brightly as he was carried up to the completely untouched third floor, the sound devolving rapidly into exuberant moans as he was pressed against several walls and treated to the familiar taste of his lover’s tongue deep in his throat in the process.

            He cinched his thick thighs tighter over a slender waist clad in the finest fabrics money could buy, leveraging his hips forward to tempt Neuvillette with a most fantastic finale to the evening. Wriothesley had every intention to deliver nothing but the best service, satisfaction guaranteed.

            Around the estate, eighteen intruders lay dead, but they paid the cooling bodies no mind, stepping around the massacre as Neuvillette escorted them to his private quarters. Wriothesley knew he would have to deal with the bodies afterwards, but that could be a tomorrow problem. His only current concerns were the numerous layers of clothing the master of the house was wearing, including a waistcoat and spats, each with an excessive number of buttons and buckles.

            “If I cut your spats off, will you be upset?” Wriothesley asked in a rush, air forced from his lungs as he was tossed roughly onto the sumptuous bed. The soft comforter billowed around him with his landing, and he made sure to spread out as Neuvillette took a moment to remove his outer layers and toss them neatly to the side.

            “Yes. Your attire, however…” Neuvillette trailed off as he loosened his jabot and slid it from his neck in one fluid motion, gloves quickly following one after another, placed delicately atop the nearby vanity.

            Wriothesley surveyed what remained of his maid uniform, most of it in tatters from the fighting and the rest of it smeared with oxidizing blood in various haphazard splatters.

            “Going to rip it off me? It is rather soiled.” His blue eyes flashed with mirth, his grin an invitation and challenge all in one.

            “I am considering it. Any objections?” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow as his fingers descended the row of buttons on his own shirt, plucking them free one at a time until his shirt fell open, revealing turquoise, scale-dappled skin, and a chest pretty enough to inspire works of art for centuries to come. Wriothesley’s eyes were glued to those deft fingers and their strategic movements, all too aware of the strength behind them, strength that would have no issue ripping him out of frilly layers and the waist cincher tight around his middle. Maybe if he prodded enough, the claws would come out and slice right through the laces, cutting them to ribbons to bare his skin for his master’s uninhibited perusal.

            “Leave the stockings and the garter, but other than that, none at all, sir.” His cheeky smirk said it all as Wriothesley unzipped one heeled combat boot and then the other, kicking them off and letting them clatter to the floor haphazardly.

            He did it just to press Neuvillette’s buttons, seeing as the man had just finished stepping out of his own shoes, placing them meticulously to the side before working on his spats. The twitch of his eyebrow was exactly what the housekeeper had been looking for, a sure sign that he was treading the line between enticing and irritating.

            Exactly where he wanted to be.

            “Are you misbehaving intentionally?” Neuvillette inquired, as the bed dipped under his weight. Wriothesley rolled onto his stomach, hiding his shit-eating grin in the soft pillow as he hiked his legs up underneath him and arched his back, fully aware of how it would cause the remains of his skirt to hike up, barely covering his ass. He was dripping, still, from earlier, his thighs a right mess, and if he was correct about where exactly his skirt was torn, then Neuvillette hopefully had the most teasing view of the bare skin where thigh met butt cheek.

            “Me? Misbehaving? Sir, I am your most dedicated housekeeper; I would never dream of misbehaving in your presence.” Wriothesley peeked over his shoulder, batting his dark lashes in a show of put-upon innocence that was as fake as his tone.

            “I see.” The master of the house sounded decidedly unconvinced and unimpressed.

            A thrill rocketed down Wriothesley’s spine.

            There was just enough time to inhale before hands seized his skirt and, with a mighty ripping sound, tore it and the petticoats underneath fully in half. Wriothesley’s eyes widened when it didn’t stop there, another yank sending the split seam travelling along the curve of his back. Strong hands followed it up until the collar popped open, the entire dress slumping off his form to the bed below. It rested there for all of two seconds before Neuvillette snatched it away, the ruined uniform cast aside entirely, leaving Wriothesley in nothing but his arm and neck wraps, the requested stockings, garters, and the black waist cincher that sat prettily above his hips, accenting his curves.

            That was where Neuvillette’s hands settled, before he yanked Wriothesley back under him, the hardness straining against his half-unbuttoned trousers grinding ruthlessly into the housekeeper’s ass.

            “Oh, shit– !” A startled laugh fell from his lips, those fingers squeezing over hipbones, pinpricks of claws digging into flesh in warning. Heat pulsed in his core, the promise of what lay behind those layers of fabric exactly what he’d been craving all night.

            “You did so well earlier. Why, now, are you trying to ruin it by being fresh with me?” Neuvillette growled directly in his ear, fangs brushing the outer edge down to his neck. Sharp teeth snapped, closing around the leather strips covering his neck, and with a tug, they tightened around his throat, briefly cutting off air supply and lessening blood flow. With another harsh yank, the leather tore, sliced open by the razor’s edge of draconic fangs. In a rush of blood to the head, Wriothesley sucked in a lungful of air, and immediately let it loose in a hearty groan.

            “B-because, I like it when you’re mean to me.” He panted each word, reaching up to tug the loose leather strips free from around his throat. Very suddenly, they were wrenched from his grasp, slipping through his fingers entirely, much to his confusion. “What are you doing?”

            “You like it when I’m mean to you?” He caught a glimpse of Neuvillette’s expression, the furrowing of his brow a sign of his confusion and calculation in equal measure.

            “Of course. I love how possessive you get.” Wriothesley grinned, even as his arms were caught and jerked roughly behind his back. At first, he wasn’t sure what to make of it, until he felt familiar leather wind strategically around his wrists, cinching tightly with a hard tug.

            Oh.

            Two fingers slid beneath the makeshift wrist tie, checking to make sure there was still room for proper blood circulation. Even then, it was still tight, and his arms were indeed fully secured behind his back. It left him vulnerable, unable to do anything as those same fingers dipped between his thighs, tracing along the slick outer lips of his cunt where he was decidedly dripping with want. His legs shifted needily, trying to get those fingers to touch him properly. He wanted them inside him, rubbing at his inner walls, or at least petting his hard clit, which throbbed with heat and desire at the teasing touch.

            Wriothesley groaned, looking over his shoulder, his cheeks flushed with heat as he caught sight of Neuvillette bringing his fingers to his mouth, pointedly licking the slick from them with a long, forked tongue.

            “Fuck, Neuv, you’re killing me here,” he complained, shifting restlessly on the sheets. The sheer stockings slipping against the soft comforter beneath him.

            “I’ve been tormenting you? You’ve been running around, flaunting your arousal everywhere you went inside this house. You smell positively divine, beloved, and this entire estate reeks of your desire for me. You taste twice as delectable, and I’ve been contemplating whether or not I should taste you properly before giving you your reward.” Neuvillette bent forwards, scraping his teeth along the curve of his housekeeper’s ample rear, biting down to leave a mark.

            The promise in those sharply-lined lilac eyes sent pleasant shivers down Wriothesley’s spine, his hands fisting tightly against the small of his back as he gasped. The bite stung, but it was quickly soothed with the pass of a cool split tongue, leaving nothing but pleasurable throbbing in its wake.

            “Are you offering to tonguefuck me?” Wriothesley asked, breathlessly delighted.

            “Must you be so crass?” Neuvillette bemoaned, as his fingers parted the folds of Wriothesley’s wet entrance, leaving him rather exposed. He flushed crimson at the dedicated attention, suddenly struck by the desire to close his legs, which was very much not an option with how Neuvillette’s knees pushed his own wider. The knowledge that Neuvillette could see all of him sparked along his skin, burned across his cheeks and the nape of his neck. Wriothesley wasn’t often prone to true embarrassment, but this came pretty close, and he was surprised to find that it turned him on. It must have been obvious to the dragon between his thighs; he could feel himself growing wetter, dripping down his own thighs in eager anticipation, right where Neuvillette could see.

            “Well –” Wriothesley huffed “– how would you describe – HMN!” All coherent thought left him as Neuvillette pressed his long, forked tongue directly into his slit without preamble and licked inside him, slow and pointed. That wet appendage curled against his inner walls and left the housemaid moaning as it pressed ever deeper.

            “O-oh, fuck. Love, your tongue is so long. Shit!” Wriothesley could hardly think, the vibrator having been nothing compared to the way Neuvillette’s tongue thrust in and out of his drenched hole. The sounds it made were obscene, the slick squelch seemingly loud each time he licked further inside. It was hardly the first time they’d done this, but not a day went by that Wriothesley didn’t think about how well his master’s tongue ate him out.

            It wasn’t long before a lubricated finger pressed slightly above, sinking into his ass easily, drawing a stuttered whine from deep in his chest as both of his aching holes were filled. A thumb and one admittedly very dexterous and talented tongue were not enough, but this dedicated care spelled a future for Wriothesley he quite liked. Neuvillette wouldn’t have bothered testing the give of his ass if he’d only been planning to fuck his cunt.

            A single thumb quickly became two fingers, and then three, and Wriothesley found his coherency slipping away rather suddenly as Neuvillette ate him out to his heart’s content. It was when that heat in his groin coiled tight, threatening to tip him over the edge, that he fought for words that weren’t moans of “yes” and “more.”

            “N-Neuv – Love, I’m gonna –” he gasped sharply as those fingers hooked inside of him. “If you keep that up.-” His eyes crossed a little, vision gone hazy. Neuvillette’s tongue left him all at once, the sudden withdrawal worse than anticipated as it left him empty, clenching around nothing but the fingers still in his ass.

            “Should I not bring you off like this? Have you not been edged enough tonight, dearest?” Neuvillette held him still, forcing his hips steady despite the way Wriothesley ached to roll them against something, impale himself on something, anything. He’d certainly been edged more than quantifiably enough but –

            “I want to cum on your cocks. Sir, please,” he begged breathlessly, wide, muscular back heaving with each inhale. He’d been craving that feeling, being stuffed full while his mind blanked out, feeling himself spasm around their girth inside of him.

            He needed it.

            There was a considering hum behind him, one that left Wriothesley wondering if his wishes truly would be considered, or if the dragon sovereign was more content to play with him as he saw fit until he was satisfied.

            There was plenty of appeal in either scenario.

            “That can be arranged. I hadn’t realized just how desperate our earlier game made you. My apologies, love.” Those fingers gave a slow and pointed thrust inside of him, and another for good measure, leaving Wriothesley trembling on the edge before they, too, were withdrawn, truly leaving him gaping and hollow.

            “Please,” Wriothesley groaned, the aching pulse of his arousal near unbearable as it thrummed in time with his pounding heart.

            “Patience. Just a moment more, treasure.” Neuvillette purred the words against the shell of his ear, his low tone barely disguising the sound of cloth rustling. Wriothesley pushed back in anticipation, and was rewarded with the slick sensation of the heads of not one but two cocks rubbing up against his slit. Deft fingers plucked at the laces of his waist cincher, loosening it until the clasps at the front could be popped open, the entire piece dragged away and discarded over the edge of the bed. Wriothesley didn’t understand why, at first, why, but the subtle caress of fingers down the lean lines of his stomach foretold exactly what Neuvillette was hoping to feel. Those smooth planes would undoubtedly be interrupted soon by the shape of his cocks inside, and Wriothesley felt himself grow even wetter at the prospect.

            A firm hand once more latched onto his hips, holding him still as Neuvillette lined himself up. Wriothesley didn’t have to beg again as the warm, tapered heads of those thick cocks caught on both of his holes, testing the give of his slick asshole and wet cunt.

            Both cocks pressed into him, spreading him wide around each flared ridge without any hesitation, driving Wriothesley near insane with how good it felt. He arched, pressing into them, putting himself on more than just display as cool air was sucked over his teeth and exhaled back into the pillow pressed to his cheek. It was a lot, not his first time taking both in one breath, but the stretch was always so much to adjust to. It always made him feel a little stupid, how his mind would blank and become nothing but an endless repeat of sensations.

            “F-fuck, so full –” Wriothesley’s hands flailed uselessly, pinned together behind his back, grasping at his own wrists, nails digging in as Neuvillette bottomed out, pressing deep enough that he swore he felt it in his gut.

            A large, clawed hand traced up his thigh, dragging across sheer tights, shredding the already frayed material before continuing its journey up over his hip to his stomach. There, it splayed across his abs, pressing against the bulge that could just barely be made out from where Neuvillette’s cocks sat nestled inside of him.

            “You take me so well, beloved. I can feel myself in you,” Neuvillette’s thumb caressed a line down from Wriothesley’s navel along the trail of hair that led towards his clit. The shiver it elicited was enough to have Wriothesley’s knees shifting against the comforter as he glanced down at exactly where the master of the house pointed. He most definitely could see the faint imprint of Neuvillette’s cocks, the very sight driving him to whine pathetically as he tried to move his hips. That desperation for friction kicked into high gear, the weight of the dragon’s lengths inside of him a threat he needed the other man to make good on.

            “Baby, please! Fuck me so hard I feel it for days –” Wriothesley growled the request, and the responding snarl, loud and close to his ear as Neuvillette folded over him, trapping him in against the bed, set his nerves alight.

            Neuvillette’s hips shifted, sliding his lengths nearly entirely free before he thrust forward, burying them just as deep in one smooth stroke that punched the air from the maid’s lungs. He felt it in his spine, delight singing through his veins as Neuvillette set a punishing pace, thrusting into his holes without remorse or restraint.

            Wriothesley lost his breath and never caught it, torn between moans and the drool escaping from the corner of his mouth, pooling on the pillow cushioning his cheek as strong hands clamped tightly over his hips, yanking him back onto every thrust.

            “O-oh, fuck! Fuck! You feel so good, love!” Wriothesley felt fangs scrape along the back of his neck, anticipation building for the moment they might finally sink into his skin. He could hardly keep the sensations rocking his body straight, his focus ping-ponging between the heat in his groin from the friction of the cock in his ass and the one rubbing up against it from inside his cunt.

            “Wriothesley,” the breathy growl caressing the back of his neck had him trembling, the sound of his name falling like a prayer from the lips of the most beautiful and powerful man he knew; it was almost more than he could take. The heat in his groin spiked, spurred on by sharp, deep, thrusts. The slap of their hips meeting kept time to the beautiful melody of their chorus of moans and gasps.

            Wriothesley’s eyes crossed, the press of Neuvillette’s hand over his stomach, over where his cocks mercilessly made a home for themselves, was more than he could take.

            His orgasm took him by surprise.

            It crashed into him like a tidal wave, his cunt and ass left to spasm uselessly around the lengths continuing their merciless thrusts, his walls milking the ridges of Neuvillette’s cocks like it was their only purpose.

            Wriothesley muffled his broken cry into the pillow, biting into it as his hips shook and his knees gave out, leaving him to suddenly slump towards the mattress. Before he could get far enough to accidentally slip off Neuvillette’s lengths, an arm snaked around his hips, hauling him up and back onto both cocks with a firm tug. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as he was held steady, Neuvillette slowing the pace of his thrusts but not bothering to stop as he used the housekeeper for his own satisfaction.

            Wriothesley would be lying if he were to ever say he didn’t love it. The tears that spilled from his eyes were ones of blissful overstimulation. He craved the incoherency that came from being pushed past his own limits. It was a bliss he’d only found in Neuvillette’s bed and it choked his airways and left him buzzing from head to toe as he was plowed into. Truly, it was all he could do, to remain limp and shivering, supported entirely by the other man, his arms trapped behind his back as he was fucked into like a toy, his cunt sloppy and wet with his own release, dripping down until it soaked the edges of his stockings. It was surely a sight, one he couldn’t hope to perceive through his blurry vision and pleasure-crossed eyes.

            “Look at you,” Neuvillette’s lips caressed his ear, teeth nipping at the tip as he sucked in a sharp breath of his own. “Such a mess, and you’re only one orgasm in. Shall I wring you dry tonight? Make you cum until you can’t anymore?” The filthy promises fell so eloquently from his master’s lips, and Wriothesley whimpered in gleeful submission.

            Fingers brushed teasingly over his clit, and his hips jerked with the sudden jolt of sensation that shot through him. Wriothesley whined and twitched, but the fingers tormenting his clit didn’t stop stroking it, not until his sharp, keening cries turning to delirious moans as he was pushed forcibly back into the realm of pleasure.

            “I love the way you tighten around me when you feel good, beloved.” Teeth finally broke skin, sinking deep into the meat of his shoulder, and it was agony and bliss all wrapped into one.

            “I-I’m gonna –” Wriothesley tried to speak, was cut off by a ragged moan, torn from him by the fingers furiously stroking his clit in time with the deep rhythmic thrusts driving him ever closer to the crux of insanity.

            “Don’t hold back.” a hot tongue laved over the wound on his shoulder, words murmured sweetly into flushed and sweaty skin as Wriothesley’s eyes rolled back and the burning warmth in his groin peaked once more, shuddering through him. His stocking-clad toes curled with the exquisite pleasure that danced along his nerves. If his previous orgasm was a tidal wave, then this one was a riptide, pulled from him mercilessly, leaving him gasping for air as Neuvillette’s hips finally slowed and he gently lowered the poor maid towards the bed.

            The ghost of a breath caressed the back of his neck as the static sound in his ears slowly cleared, and Wriothesley managed to crack his bleary eyes open, clearing tears from his vision one lethargic blink at a time. Something brushed the back of his neck, trailing along the side, becoming the sweet caress of lips along the edge of his jaw.

            “Are you still with me, beloved?” Neuvillette asked, breathy and sweet, in the soft rumbling tone that Wriothesley associated with early mornings shared together beneath skin-warmed sheets. The housekeeper managed a grunt, shifting his hips only to realize that both cocks were still rock hard inside of him.

            Fuck, but that was hot.

            “Y-yeah… M’good.” Wriothesley slurred, shifting his arms against his lower back. He glanced over his shoulder, meeting inquisitive lilac eyes seconds before lips pressed to his own, capturing him in a slow and sensual kiss that melted his insides and warmed his bones.

            “Roll over for me.” The ties around his arms released suddenly, and a hand coaxed him onto his back as Neuvillette pulled out. Wriothesley complied with a moan, slowly straightening out his arms, carefully rolling his wrists and shoulders as he settled onto his back, parting his thighs wide as the other man settled between them.

            “I thought you were planning to...” His breath hitched as Neuvillette rubbed his lengths along his slit, through the ample slick left from Wriothesley’s multiple orgasms, “...wring me dry, darling?” His flimsy bravado faltered as Neuvillette’s top cock rubbed over his clit, the second longer and thicker one sinking back into his cunt in one fluid motion.

            “Did it appear that I was finished with you?” The master of the house smirked, pleased, no doubt, with the way Wriothesley’s lashes fluttered and his hands fisted in the sheets. His thighs were pressed wide and towards his chest, leaving him folded in half and plenty open for Neuvillette to sink his cock nice and deep inside with a fluid thrust.

            “F-fuck! If you don’t come inside me, I’ll quit.” Wriothesley choked out the threat, unsure where exactly his bold words were coming from. The very notion was preposterous enough to drag a soft and startled laugh from Neuvillette as he carded clawed fingers through Wriothesley’s hair and tugged his head back gently, baring his throat to greedy lips and sharp fangs.

            “Will you now?” Neuvillette was rightfully skeptical, and all it took was a single roll of his hips to cut short any retort Wriothesley might have formulated. His already frayed nerves were instantly back on high alert, the new angle rubbing the tapered head of Neuvillette’s cock delightfully over the bundle of nerves deep inside his cunt that dripped liquid pleasure down his spine.

            “Hhhhn!”

            “That’s what I thought,” Neuvillette chuckled, leaving a tender bite just under his favorite housekeeper’s chin.

            Neuvillette snapped his hips forward, burying his cock with a hard thrust, the second one rubbing directly against Wriothesley’s clit. He pressed down into each thrust, picking up the pace until his lover couldn’t keep his shouts of pleasure contained. Their breaths mingled in the scarce space between their lips, capturing one another in searing kisses filled with teeth and tongue whenever the motion of their bodies brought their faces together.

            Wriothesley’s hands gripped powerful shoulder blades, his own fingers strong enough to dig half-moons into Neuvillette’s back as he scrambled for anything to hang onto while being railed into the mattress.

            “Think you can come again?” Neuvillette gasped against his wet lips, teeth dragging against Wriothesley red, kiss-swollen bottom lip. The maid nodded furiously, one hand dropping clumsily to loosely grip the dragon sovereign’s second cock, ensuring that it slid perfectly against his clit with each rapid thrust of his hips. The extra pressure drew a sob out of Wriothesley’s mouth, his ankles crossing behind Neuvillette’s neck with how bent in half he was, knees hooked over his mate’s shoulders.

            “Wriothesley –  beloved.” Neuvillette sighed his name, pressing tender kisses everywhere on the maid’s tear-wet cheeks he could reach as his hips eagerly sought both their climaxes.

            Wriothesley could hardly hear the sound of Neuvillette’s moans, his own sobbing exclamations drowning them out as he found himself on the brink of a fourth climax. He practically screamed Neuvillette’s name when the man hit an angle so devastating  that Wriothesley had no choice but to hang on for dear life and tumble gracelessly over the edge of world-shattering satisfaction. He felt the press of something thick at the base of Neuvillette’s cock as his wall squeezed tight around the length inside of him. Wriothesley realized what it was the moment Neuvillette pressed it deep inside him, the knot popping past his spasming walls, locking them together tightly.

            He gasped, head thrown back as he was stuffed completely full, barely enough presence of mind to squeeze the knot at the base of the cock pressed flush with his clit, milking it for the satisfaction of hearing Neuvillette snarl above him in pleasure.

            Neuvillette thrust forward harshly and found his own release, grinding both his cocks in short, aborted movements as he filled Wriothesley with his spend and painted his stomach with it simultaneously. The maid luxuriated in the sensation, shivering as he felt the throb of the length inside him echoed by the thrum of his own heart and residual aftershocks of pleasure.

            Wriothesley must have briefly blacked out, as his vision returned to him slowly, eyelids heavy with the effort of fluttering open. Fingers raked gently through his hair, drawing him further into awareness as he caught his breath.

            “There you are,” Neuvillette murmured sweetly, smoothing the sweat-slick hair away from the housekeeper’s forehead as his lilac and cobalt eyes swept over him with hints muted concern. Wriothesley shifted his legs, groaning when he realized they were still locked tight over Neuvillette’s shoulders.

            Sensing what he was doing, Neuvillette helped lower his legs one by one until they could wrap more comfortably around his waist. The point where they were locked together shifted minutely, sending fissures of pleasure along well-spent nerves. Wriothesley dragged his own fingers through the mess of cum on his stomach, bringing it to his mouth where he pointedly licked them clean.

            “I thought I told you to come inside me,” he whispered hoarsely, the hint of a grin tugging the corners of his mouth upwards as he shifted his hips and got comfortable. It would be a bit before Neuvillette’s knot went down and they would be able to separate, so they might as well enjoy the proximity while it was mandatory.

            “I did,” Neuvillette growled, giving a short thrust of his still-hard length, enough to punch a gasp out of the housekeeper in his grasp.

            “I-I’m joking, love. Point taken!” Wriothesley quickly wheezed, ignoring the smug look shot his way as he slumped back against the pillows.

            “That mouth of yours,” Neuvillette chuckled, smoothing his hand down Wriothesley’s chest, caressing his pecs and scars reverently.

            “You love it,” Wriothesley retorted with a shit-eating grin. Their foreheads collided with a gentle thunk as they inhaled one another, settling into their intimacy like two well-oiled gears.

             Wriothesley’s hands also began to wander, tracing over patches of scales here and there, memorizing the dips and curves that made up the man he loved all the imperfections that made him beautiful and all the natural beauty that kept his heart neatly caged. His pale blue gaze swept over Neuvillette in his entirety, taking in the picture they made twined together, and he melted in contented happiness.

            A fierceness blossomed in his chest, the reminder of the infiltrators from earlier, of Celestia and their determination to wipe the sovereigns from the world to ensure their continued grasp of power went unchallenged. Wriothesley surged upwards, his calloused hands grasping Neuvillette by the sides of his neck as he stared deep into his eyes.

            “I would burn down all of Celestia for you…” he declared unflinchingly, sealing that promise with a kiss that burned as brightly as the sun in the sky as his eyes fluttered shut. The rumbling purr that started in Neuvillette’s chest was answer enough as they kissed lazily, lost in the taste of one another and the promises sealed between their lips – those of the past, present and eternal future.

            “There is no ocean too wide, nor mountain too tall, to keep me from you. I wear your adoration like the night sky wears the cosmos, resplendent and ethereal and all the better for its continued presence.” Neuvillette pressed his words into Wriothesley’s skin as he kissed along his throat, words so beautiful his eyes stung with unshed tears. The sincerity in each one twisted his heart. Wriothesley found himself wondering for the hundredth time how he got so damn lucky. “Your decision to stay all those years ago changed the trajectory of my existence, and not a day goes by that I am not grateful for that choice. Grateful for your presence in my life, Wriothesley.” His lips stalled as he reached Wriothesley’s chest, where his heart sat, punching a steady rhythm as if to prove its adoration with every beat. Lilac eyes flicked upwards, and Wriothesley’s breath caught in his throat, tears threatening to spill forth from their unstable containment.

            “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Wriothesley choked out around the emotions threatening to render him mute.

            “I love you too,” Neuvillette sighed, capturing him once more in a fatal kiss that Wriothesley lost himself in. Neuvillette’s knot had long since gone down, his length softened, and still neither of them moved, wrapped up tightly in one another’s embrace.

            They stayed like that until Wriothesley found himself drifting off, and the fluids on his thighs and stomach began to dry and itch obnoxiously.

            “Come, beloved, let's get you cleaned off and into bed proper,” Neuvillette whispered into his ear. Wriothesley grumbled and stubbornly refused to let go, leaving Neuvillette with no choice but to scoop him up in his arms and carry him towards the bathroom.

            “I have to clean up the bodies…” Wriothesley whined, remembering the actual mess and destruction, left down below on the first and second floors of the estate. There were at least twelve hours before everything would truly start to smell, but there were certainly stains in the carpets, and he was pretty sure he blew up the dining room table.

            “I will call Sedene and have her and the other staff take care of it first thing tomorrow. You did more than enough tonight, Wriothesley.” He glanced downwards, and Wriothesley pouted back up at him, feeling very much like he was slacking on his responsibilities. “Can you even stand, beloved?”

            “I don’t know, I haven’t tried yet,” he grumbled. Although, the twinge in his lower back was a good indication of exactly how well he would be walking in the next twelve hours, much less cleaning up dead bodies and getting them ready to be sent back to Celestia tied up neatly with a bow. Wriothesley prided himself on ensuring that those who died by his hand found their way back to whomever sent them, if possible. After all, their families deserved closure. Whether or not Celestia ensured that was the case, he had no clue, but at least he’d done his part.

            They’d once offered mercy to those that trespassed, but that got messy fast, and the first time one of them managed to grab a gun and shoot him in the shoulder, nearly at point blank range, made it quite apparent that lethal force against lethal force was only fair if they wanted to survive.

            Neuvillette turned on the shower water, pausing to set Wriothesley down on the counter. He made a face, already sore and leaking, but didn’t complain as he set about removing the tattered remains of his stockings and the garter that had somehow survived everything. It was with shaking legs that he made his way into the shower, all too aware of how Neuvillette hovered even as he stripped the rest of his layers away and followed him under the warm water.

            Sturdy but lean arms wrapped around his waist as his lover curled around his back, subtly giving Wriothesley something to lean against, which he took without complaint. They rocked gently under the warm water, letting it wash away the evidence of their good time and any remaining blood splatters from the conflict. Neuvillette nuzzled into his neck, absently kissing and licking over the deep bitemark on Wriothesley’s nape, both the long-since scarred mark signifying their bond and the fresh one from earlier that had scabbed over already.

            In the silence, Wriothesley’s mind had kicked into high gear. As much fun as the evening had been, the frequency with which these attacks kept happening was steadily increasing and it bothered him. He knew that, despite his best efforts, all it would take was one misstep, a single mistake on his part, and something, or someone, could be lost forever. He knew what the soldiers of Celestia were meant to do should they get their hands on Neuvillette –kill anyone that got in their way and incapacitate the dragon to be brought into the main headquarters. There were contingencies for whether or not the dragon behaved, but there was plenty of equipment. Namely, tranquilizers that were dosed to take down a full dragon, and plenty of live ammunition that was authorized to be shot directly at the target.

            After all, a dragon could endure a lot before they would die.

            “Your thoughts are incredibly loud, beloved.” Lips pressed to his temple, cutting through the warm water trailing down from his soaked salt-and-pepper hair.

            “Ah, sorry.” Wriothesley slicked his hair back, sighing as he closed his eyes and leaned into his chest.

            “Anything you care to share?” Neuvillette’s hands, lathered with soap, began to roam his body, caressing him and washing away the evidence of the evening and any close calls. Wriothesley let him, accepting the pampering for the moment, the routine a balm to his frayed nerves.

            “Hmn…” He hummed, contemplating whether or not to worry his mate with any of his racing thoughts. “Thinking about Celestia and their…tenacity,” Wriothesley admitted quietly.

            Neuvillette’s nostrils flared slightly, a testament to his control that he didn’t actively scowl at the mention of the organization.

            “I’d prefer you not think about the government when I finally have you all to myself,” he muttered tersely. “Haven’t they taken up enough of our evening already?”

            Oh. How cute.

            Wriothesley grinned, turning a slow circle against the soapy hands holding fast to his hips until he could loop his arms around the other man’s neck and stare mischievously up into his eyes.

            “Is someone jealous, perhaps?”

            The silent and calculating look Neuvillette leveled at him was enough of an answer in Wriothesley’s book, and he couldn’t help the spark of excitement that shot to the surface anytime he caught his dragon being possessive with him. A snicker escaped him, but he quickly smothered it into the pale column of Neuvillette’s neck, nuzzling into the spot he knew the dragon liked. It had something to do with draconic instincts and scenting, which he understood in basic principle, even if he couldn’t possibly ever experience the aromas or pheromones that Neuvillette had once described to him.

            “Is my big, scary, Hydro dragon sovereign jealous of me thinking about the government in our shower?” Wriothesley cooed into his skin, dragging his blunt teeth along the line of Neuvillette’s throat when he felt the preemptive rumbling of a displeased growl building in his chest.

            “Wriothesley.” He grumbled his name in warning, one the human took more or less seriously.

            “I’m teasing, sweetheart. I like it when you’re jealous, but I can promise that you have no reason to be. My thoughts about Celestia are merely calculations – whereas my thoughts about you are too inappropriate and sappy for public consumption.” Wriothesley pulled away, raising a single finger to gently boop his dragon on the tip of his nose. Said nose scrunched rather adorably, sending Wriothesley’s heart in free-fall all over again.

            “I see. Is that a topic you need to contemplate at this very moment?” Neuvillette asked, his brow creasing slightly.

            “No, but you know me, my mind is always busy.” Wriothesley shrugged nonchalantly, as if that wasn’t the understatement of the century. There was a reason he could take a rifle apart and put it back together blindfolded, and it wasn’t because his brain was quiet.

            “I’m well aware; it is one of the many things I love about you.” Neuvillette’s claws traced over wet, soapy skin, helping to wash away the suds. They dragged along bruised hips and found the roundness of Wriothesley’s ass, grasping it firmly to his delight and intrigue. “Should I distract your busy mind? Did I not do a good enough job earlier?”

            “No, you did a remarkable job.” Wriothesley could still feel the ache in his hips, a testament to exactly how well Neuvillette had fucked him. “That being said, you’re welcome to distract me with your mouth until we get back to bed.” His grin was wickedly sharp as hands pulled them flush and their noses bumped against one another, the slick slide of their bodies a wonderful reinforcement of their earlier proximity.

            “I ought to put your unruly mouth to use with how you’ve been acting tonight,” Neuvillette chided, sliding the pad of his thumb along Wriothesley’s bottom lip. “Sometimes I wonder if your appetite isn’t  more voracious than my own.” Blunt teeth nipped playfully at that digit as Wriothesley’s dark eyebrow went up in challenge.

            “Is that a complaint, monsieur?” he inquired as his hands caressed down the chest in front of him, thighs parting to invite one of Neuvillette’s to slip between.

            “Hardly,” the master of the house scoffed.

            “That’s what I thought,” Wriothesley whispered as their lips crashed together. Their shower lasted longer than anticipated as Neuvillette offered to clean him further by shoving first his fingers and then several inches of his tongue into Wriothesley’s cunt until the man was gasping and clutching at wet, white locks of hair, grinding desperately against his mouth.

            Wriothesley returned the favor eagerly, sinking to his knees under the hot shower water to take first one, then both lengths into his mouth, figuring that if he had the day off tomorrow anyway, he might as well destroy his throat too.

            He took turns deepthroating each cock, until Neuvillette grew impatient and fucked his throat with one while Wriothesley jerked the second until the master of the house moaned with his second climax of the evening. Wriothesley swallowed what he could, licked clean what hadn’t fit in his mouth and by the time their shower ended it was a miracle he could stumble to his feet with how dead tired he was – not to mention the loud, protesting pop both of his knees gave.

            Neuvillette dried them both and promptly changed the bed sheets, despite Wriothesley’s protests about that being his job, before he carried Wriothesley to bed. By the time Neuvillette joined him after having turned off all the lights, the housekeeper was almost fully asleep. He had enough presence of mind to drag Neuvillette closer, until he was wrapped up securely in his arms. It would take hell freezing over for Wriothesley to admit it, but he felt safer with the dragon at his back, slept more soundly with Neuvillette’s steady heartbeat against his own.

            In the morning, he would see about helping Sedene with the clean-up, and, when Neuvillette was busy at work, would revisit the troublesome thoughts about their persistent pests.

            It was embarrassingly close to the middle of the afternoon by the time Wriothesley sat up in bed. Neuvillette had long since kissed him on the forehead and no doubt headed to his office to start work for the day. Wriothesley was, therefore, left completely to his own devices. There was a cute note scrawled on a slip of parchment sat next to a (now likely cold) cup of tea. His back ached something fierce, as did his throat, and despite technically having the day off, he dragged his sorry ass out of their bed and threw on a robe as he read the note.

Beloved,

Rest as much as you desire. Sedene has organized a team to take care of the mess, and Menthe is contacting the usual companies for repairs.

Come say good morning when you wake up.

Love,

N

            Wriothesley took a sip of the cold tea, made a face, and drank it anyway, because it was a nice blend, and who was he to refuse a gift? He’d had worse.

            Cup in hand, he wandered towards the office, stopping by to kiss Neuvillette on the cheek, before he continued to his own room and wardrobe. Once there, he dug through the various uniform options, opting for one of the maid outfits that had a longer skirt to wear.

            His desire for an actually hot cup of tea brought him eventually to the kitchen, which was, miraculously, more or less untouched in the chaos of the previous evening. The dining room, however, was a complete disaster. His own fault, really; he knew better than to use full pipe bombs in the more heavily decorated rooms for this exact reason. The crown molding was missing chunks, the dining room table was… well, it was still standing, and he gave the credit for that entirely to the craftmanship of the piece. The chandelier was in pieces, shards of crystal littering the floor from corner to corner.

            Wriothesley brewed a fresh pot of tea and continued his perusal of the estate as he sipped on a cup. He greeted the Melusines as they worked, and stepped carefully amongst the wreckage in his heels. Something about it all didn’t sit quite right, and those bothersome thoughts from last night returned tenfold.

            "…I would burn down Celestia for you..."

            Wriothesley had said as much to Neuvillette in the heat of their embrace, and he'd meant it. Oh, did he mean it. He headed back towards the dining room, grabbing several things buried deep in his closet on the way as the gears in his mind started turning and didn’t stop.

            Scarred hands smoothed out the blueprint he’d pulled out so it laid flat upon the dining room table, or what remained of it. The scuff marks and gouges from errant bullets still marring the surface from the recent invasion did make for a difficult time, but he persisted. They were only a handful of the many scars that remained from yet another assault on the estate.

            The assault on their home.

            Cold cobalt eyes scoured the layout of the facility before him, analyzing entrances and exits, hallways and side rooms. Wriothesley’s brow furrowed in concentration as the task before him loomed, large and foreboding.

            No, if he was going to do this, then they were going to do it right. He would need help.

            Wriothesley pulled the phone from his maid uniform pocket and scrolled through the contacts towards the bottom. His finger hovered over the call button until practicality won out over pride, and he lifted the receiver to his ear.

            "Hello?"

            "I'm calling in that favor you owe me, Childe."

            "Oh, shit. You’re still alive?"

            “I’m not that old, you brat,” Wriothesley grumbled, arms crossed over his chest as he stared up at the stained-glass skylight that blessedly hadn’t been damaged.

            “Still, I haven’t heard from you in, like, years it feels like.”

            “It’s been ten months. I ordered two new sniper rifles from you, and a case of ammo,” he reminded the young man with a single raised eyebrow.

            “Okay, but ordering guns and ammo and giving me a call are different. So, what’s the occasion?”

            Wriothesley took a deep breath and glanced back at the blueprint spread out before him. The headquarters laid bare down to its bones upon the paper. All five floors of its insidious glory.

            “I require your personal expertise for this job. How do you feel about blowing up the Celestia Operations Headquarters?” Wriothesley heard a sharp inhale, followed by a distant but audible swear.

            “I’m in, but I have conditions!”

            “So do I. Let’s talk about it over lunch. How does tomorrow at thirteen hundred hours sound?”

            “What is that in normal people time?” Childe asked, leaving Wriothesley to pinch the bridge of his nose, barely containing an aggrieved sigh.

            “One in the afternoon,” he grumbled, already regretting his decision to involve other people. Coordinating a group was always a thankless task, and he usually had enough on his plate running the estate efficiently. This would all be additional work on top of his usual load.

            “Eh, I can make that work.” Wriothesley heard the sound of something being dropped, the clattering more than audible over the line, enough that he pulled the phone away from his ear.

            “I’ll meet you in the city, at Café Lutece. Don’t be late, and bring me the specs on any new equipment you have. Clorinde will be joining us.”

            “Oh, sweet. Can I bring Zhongli? He might actually have some insight for all this.”

            Wriothesley pursed his lips, glancing towards the general direction of Neuvillette’s office. Oh, he was so going to be in trouble for this one, but Childe made a rather good point.

            “Fine. I’ll see you there.” And with that, he hung up the phone, and set about marking entry and exit points on the map, a detailed plan forming piece by piece in his mind.

            It was high time Celestia got a taste of their own medicine.

Chapter Text

            Perched upon a wooden chair painted a dainty pale yellow, with a teacup delicately pinched at the handle between two fingers, Wriothesley sat and waited for his guests to arrive.

            Impatiently.

            They were late, and he was making every conceivable effort to not be irritated about it as he smoothed out the wrinkles in the long-skirted maid uniform he currently wore. This style of the uniform was decidedly modest, with long sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a neckline most would consider reasonable. He’d opted for his platform thigh-high boots as a matter of practicality, all too aware of the perils of attempting to wear stilettos on cobblestone streets.

            Clorinde was also late, but she was an allowable exception. She’d called ahead to let him know she would be running behind due to her efforts keeping Neuvillette in the dark about this particular appointment. She was, obviously, playing a very crucial role, and her communication was impeccable; he had no complaints.

            No. It was the other two tap-dancing away on his last nerve.

            One in the afternoon, they’d agreed. It was almost twenty past, now. It was the military training, he reminded himself, that had made him feel like punctuality was a life-or-death situation.

            Sometimes people were late, and that was perfectly fine.

            Except that Wriothesley couldn’t be gone from the estate for too long, or it would be obvious that he was not simply out for a regular check-in with his armaments contact. Those usually lasted all of thirty minutes, and he often met them only slightly off-premise. Neuvillette was extremely intelligent, likely to pick up on the time differences with even the barest amount of thought applied. The last thing Wriothesley wanted was for the dragon to take note of the discrepancy and worry about him or what he was getting up to. He’d have to come clean eventually, but Wriothesley would much rather do it on his own terms, without needlessly worrying his mate.

            Sovereigns forbid his handsome and capable lover come looking for Wriothesley and find him out to lunch with Zhongli, of all people. The resulting tidal wave might be catastrophic.

            As if summoned by his ire, Wriothesley heard a sharp laugh cut through the soft afternoon windchimes, twittering birds, and gentle din of the streets. Childe waved animatedly as he and his plus one were led over to the outdoor table by the server, who the arms dealer was happily chatting up.

            “Wriothesley! Good to see ya. Looking good. I must say, I was skeptical at first, but the maid dresses really suit you. I can’t put my finger on why, but it’s a good look.” Ever the chatterbox, the ginger was speaking before he was even within a few feet of the table. On his shoulder, he carried a rather hefty-looking duffle bag that landed with a thunk onto one of the four available chairs sat around the circular table.

            “Good afternoon, Childe, Mr. Zhongli.” Wriothesley toasted his teacup to each of them in turn before taking a sip to further soothe his raised hackles.

            “I apologize for our tardiness; it is my fault. There was some confusion on my behalf taking the train into the city. I did not realize one needed money to access public transportation services.” Zhongli settled into his chair gracefully; at the same time, Childe twirled his around on one point until it faced backwards, straddling it like one might attempt to ride a horse.

            Wriothesley stared in muted horror at the pair before him. It took him longer than normal to process the words leaving Zhongli’s mouth, his own opening and closing at least twice before he sorted through the bizarre string of words.

            “You thought public transportation was free?” he asked, tone wooden with disbelief. Wriothesley was painfully reminded of ages past, when he’d first met Neuvillette, and quickly learned that while the dragon sovereign possessed a myriad of terrifyingly powerful skills, he didn’t know how to drive, use a modern washing machine, or work any phone that wasn’t a rotary.

            “Well, yes. As a public service, should it not be funded for the public?” Zhongli stated frankly.

            Wriothesley stared. Blinked. Drained the rest of his teacup and poured himself another one.

            “While your point is enlightened, how we got there remains questionable. That being said, I suppose that brings us, indirectly, to exactly why we’re here today. The government in question, who has failed to fund public transportation on behalf of the public, needs to be put in check.” He shifted forward in his seat, setting cup and saucer aside to clasp his hands upon the table.

            “Right. You want to blow up Celestia HQ.” Childe whispered the latter half of the sentence, glancing around at the other tables – ones Wriothesley had already ensured were sufficiently far away or empty enough to provide a sound cushion to keep their conversation private. Unless, of course, they started yelling everything at one another.

            “Correct. I’m tired of them staging assaults on Monsieur Neuvillette’s estate. They still haven’t gotten the message; despite the six times I’ve sent their operatives back in body bags. I’m tired of needlessly having to repair the columns in the atrium and also taking the lives being unnecessarily sacrificed.” He tapped a finger against the tabletop, eyeing the gentlemen across from him.

            “Will your concentrated assault ensure this doesn’t happen anymore?” Zhongli inquired, taking one of the empty teacups and pouring himself a steaming cup.

            “Yeah. What makes you think this won’t just piss them off further?” Childe frowned, folding his arms over the back of the chair so he could rest his chin upon them.

            “It will piss them off further without a doubt,” Wriothesley admitted with a haphazard shrug. “But I happen to loosely know how their funding program works. Archons decide which projects they want to back –” his sharp blue eyes cut to Zhongli “– Correct me if I’m wrong. It is their direct support for a project that garners proper funding and public motivation. Neuvillette became a target as soon as Focalors elected to give her Authority back to him, instead of passing it on to an heir. Current working theory is that Celestia has been making a case for funding this project, and one of the Archons has been backing it as a result. Naturally, Celestia had plans for that authority and they’re pissed it never came back to their hands.”

            “Ah, so we need to demonstrate to whichever Archon this is how futile it is to keep chasing this dream.” Childe finished for him, chin captured between his thumb and forefinger as he nodded along.

            “While mostly correct, there is a small hiccup in your theory.” The former Geo Archon frowned, brow creased in deep thought. “Celestia operates independently of the Archons, despite their intertwined involvement. As much as it is possible one of the remaining five archons has continued to provide necessary funding for these endeavors, Celestia could be launching this assault entirely on their own.”

            Wriothesley frowned, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed Zhongli carefully.

            “Then what do you propose?”

            “On top of dismantling their structure beyond repair, one should ensure they do not have the funds to repair at all. Both economically and socially.” He plucked one of the petit fours from the tower and gently unwrapped it with a claw.

            “What do you mean by that?” Wriothesley asked. Childe laughed, the sound cutting through their subdued conversation.

            “Like most organizations, a large portion of Celestia’s funding comes from Liyue’s profitable markets. I happen to know someone who might be of help to you, seeing as Ninguang holds a personal grudge against them for the somewhat recent destruction of her private property. Socially, should the public become aware of Celestia’s wrongdoings as a result of such a large calamity taking place, it would be much more difficult for them to recover and fund new efforts to trap Sovereign dragons.” Zhongli popped the bite of almond cake into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

            Wriothesley stared the retired Archon down, beyond pleasantly surprised with his contribution. The feeling of despair at working with a team subsided ever so slightly.

            “Then we’ll get in contact with your lady in Liyue and I’ll see about reaching out to the Spina Di Rosula in an effort to get a political smear campaign going. I reckon I have enough security footage to ruin their reputation a smidge. Not to mention the laundry list of work Neuvillette has been putting in helping to restructure the social programs in Fontaine anonymously as well as the conservation efforts he’s been doing for centuries on the oceans. That alone should put him in the people’s good graces.” Wriothesley reached for his phone, making several notes in the device for later.

            “So, we’re really going to do it? We’re storming in and blowing it all up?” Childe leaned forward in his chair, eyes alight with unbridled anticipation. Wriothesley’s cold gaze flicked up from his phone.

            “Nah, we’re gonna walk in and invite them to tea.” He waited for confusion to settle on both their faces before he chuckled. “I’m pulling your leg. Yes, we’re going to blow them to pieces. I’ll explain how as soon as Ms. Clorinde sees fit to grace us with her presence –"

            “Present and accounted for, your Grace.” A smooth voice spoke from behind him. Wriothesley took a single deep breath, willing all of the muscles in his body to relax from their suddenly tense position.

            She was one of the few who could successfully sneak up on him. It seemed to be happening more often as he got older, too.

            “Ms. Clorinde, please take a seat. I was just about to go over the plan. I take it the master of the house is occupied?” One dark eyebrow rose as calloused fingers pulled free one of the many blueprints he’d made copies of earlier.

            “For now. He had questions. I deferred to your expertise on the matter. I would expect a thorough questioning when you return to the estate.” Clorinde settled into the available chair, gaze sweeping judiciously over their perimeter.

            “Peachy,” Wriothesley muttered under his breath, clearing a space on their table to lay out one of the larger maps. “That aside, here is the tentative plan. We’re going in through the roof and clearing a path to this staircase; that gives us access to all floors. I will secure the doors to each floor. Childe and Zhongli will proceed immediately to the ground floor. You two are setting charges on their foundational support beams in the basement here, here, and here.” His finger traced over the places marked with small red x’s. “Anything you can do to weaken the beams before the blast is encouraged.” Ice blue eyes alighted to Clorinde’s face, her own gaze tracing different access points.

            “How are we getting in through the roof?” she murmured, leaning forward at the same time Childe punched the air in excitement.

            “Helicopter and your girlfriend equipped with a rocket launcher and all the ammo she could dream of .” Wriothesley’s hands flew out to the sides placatingly at the sudden scathing side-eye sent his way.

            “You’re giving her a rocket launcher?”

            “Before you get defensive, she’s already agreed enthusiastically. Melus and Silver will be flying the chopper” Wriothesley waited for her protest, practically watching the gears turning in her head as she went over scenarios from all known angles. He knew what she was doing, had run those mental exercises again and again for the past two weeks while staring at this same map.

            “Understood…” she finally relented, reluctantly, gaze sweeping back to the map. “I don’t like that she’ll potentially be dealing with heavy artillery by herself.”

            “Actually, that’s where you come in. You and I are running interference. Fourth floor is their communications department. One good Electro grenade should have their ability to organize nipped in the bud, giving Navia free reign to fire at will. Lack of communications also means lack of their own aerial response as they won’t be able to coordinate any sort of take-offs.” Wriothesley watched as she accepted each new part of the plan.

            “Impressive; you’ve really thought this through at every angle,” Zhongli murmured, as he picked through the various papers.

            “I have. The question remains, however, on whether or not you’re in. Regardless of prior planning this is inherently risky, and I won’t force you to put yourselves in harms way.” He fiddled absently with the edge of one of his forearm wraps.

            “Are you kidding me? You think I’d miss the opportunity to blow up a building?” Childe snorted derisively and Wriothesley was relieved to see both Clorinde and Zhongli nodding in agreement.

            “Well, then, that settles it. We’ll have to get you fitted for a uniform as soon as possible. I’ll send you Chiori’s details tonight.” Wriothesley declared with the beginnings of a smirk dancing along the line of his mouth. Zhongli’s expression sobered immediately.

            “When you say uniform, you don’t mean…”

            “Are we getting maid uniforms?!” Childe interrupted, mouth dropping open in confused excitement.

            “Naturally,” Wriothesley grinned.

            Wriothesley made it two steps into the foyer before he heard his name, and he knew from the severe tone of Neuvillette’s voice that he was in trouble. He froze, one hand holding onto his key, hovering over the crystal bowl sitting on the entryway table.     

            “Wriothesley, is that you?” His mate’s voice sounded again from the first floor, likely the library.

            Shit. Wriothesley had been hoping to shower before encountering the other man, in an effort to wash off the lingering scents of the people he’d been around. That, and the various kinds of gunpowder and elemental weapon residue on his hands. He’d spent longer than anticipated testing new weapons with Childe at the gun range after the café.

            “Yes. Just got in,” Wriothesley called up the stairs, making his way past them and towards the kitchen as quietly and quickly as possible. He stopped by the coat closet and quickly lifted his skirt, unstrapping the two pistols he’d had on him and also the knife, removing the additional thigh garter belts entirely. The ammo came next, all neatly returned to the various compartments allotted to each type. He closed the door gently, locking it up tightly.

            “Come here for a moment.”

            Shit.

            He stilled at the base of the stairs, one hand on the banister as he looked longingly over at the kitchen doorway.

            “I was planning to take a quick shower. Is this urgent?” Wriothesley’s lips pursed into a flat line, fingers flexing and relaxing on the polished cherry wood as he peered up those grand stairs, waiting to see whether his evening was about to be easy or extremely difficult.

            “Yes. Come here, please.”

            Damn it all.

            Wriothesley started up the stairs, long skirts swishing around his thick boots as he turned over explanations and excuses in his mind like a rapid-fire machine gun. He had a litany of responses armed on his tongue, ready to fire at a moment’s notice by the time he reached the library’s ornate double doors.

            “Yes, my love?” He paused in the doorway, strategically keeping his distance.

            Too bad that didn’t do shit.

            The moment he laid eyes on Neuvillette, perched in one of the high-backed chairs with a book open in his lap, and those piercing eyes narrowed over the rim of his reading glasses, Wriothesley knew he’d fucked up. The flare of the dragon’s nostrils as he scented the air, scented Wriothesley from a distance, was the equivalent of being caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Wriothesley’s pre-loaded excuses evaporated into ash upon his tongue, their acrid taste lingering like overboiled shame in his throat, effectively closing it up.

            “Come closer,” Neuvillette commanded, his tone turning authoritative as he closed the book and set it aside, patting the arm of the chair in invitation.

            Son of a duck.

            Wriothesley took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and readied himself to face the music. He’d known the consequences of pursuing this project before he set out, and he was no stranger to facing those kinds of things head on. His feet carried him across the room, from hardwood to the plush blue rug that softened each step. The swish of his skirts was the only noise, until that too fell silent as he perched on the arm of the chair like he’d been asked to do.

            Neuvillette reached up, fingertips caressing the edge of his jaw, before they closed vice-like and firm around it, dragging him closer until his nose brushed the side of his neck.

            The dragon inhaled deeply, exhaling in a growl that vibrated in his chest.

            “Wriothesley,” Neuvillette began, voice tense with barely restrained anger as his grip tightened ever so slightly. The maid in question stared over his head, swallowing thickly as that nose passed back and forth over the length of his throat, in a way he usually found sweet or arousing and now only felt slightly terrifying.

            Okay, maybe it was still a little arousing.

            “Yes, love?” Wriothesley wheezed, trying not to think with his dick when there were very real things that needed to be discussed, lest he end up sleeping on the couch.

            “Why do you smell like Rex Lapis?” The question came in a completely level tone, and perhaps that was the most terrifying part. The calm was the sort that struck right before a storm.

            “Well, you see, funny story.” Wriothesley wheezed out a laugh, brain spinning fruitlessly for a way to explain everything, that wouldn’t make the situation worse.

            “Funny?” Neuvillette growled the word, pulling away enough to level him with an unamused look. Wriothesley backpedaled like he was a professional unicyclist on a highwire.

            “Eh, no. Not really. Let me explain; I have a good reason. Several, actually.” The housekeeper held very still, keeping his own voice as level as possible as Neuvillette leaned forward to scent him once more, a displeased rumbling disturbing the ruffles on the sleeves over his uniform as Neuvillette exhaled heavily.

            “You best have more than one good reason. Off. Now. I will not have you smelling like usurper trash in our home.” There was an unmistakable snarl in his tone, barely restrained as Neuvillette slipped a clawed finger below the collar of his maid dress, tugging on it insistently in an effort to get better access to his skin.

            “Wouldn’t it be nicer if I showered it off?” Wriothesley attempted to suggest, even as he complied with the command, reaching up to his own throat to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt as quickly as he could manage.

            Neuvillette’s hand released his jaw, sliding down the front of his throat, igniting a fire in Wriothesley’s groin as the possessive touch settled at the base, where a collar might sit. One clawed thumb pushed up under the leather wraps wound tight around his throat, tugging on them insistently. Needily.

            “No. I will replace it with my own scent,” the dragon muttered darkly, patience running thin as he slung an arm around the maid’s waist, lifting and dragging him backwards to sit sideways across his lap.

            Wriothesley went willingly with a sigh, working the last visible button of his black shirt open until it parted enough to reveal most of his pecs and collarbones. He sat draped across the dragon’s lap, ass to thighs, as Neuvillette’s free hand raked down his front, loosening the tie on his waist apron until it slid free to the floor.

            “If that’s what will help you. Can I talk while you do that?” Wriothesley draped his arms above his head, arching slightly, more than content to let his mate have his way with him if it meant making their conversation an easier one. As it was, the drag of Neuvillette’s fingers against his bare skin had arousal pooling low in his groin, causing the slight wetness of his cunt to grow more persistent with each caress.

            “Yes. Explain yourself. Where did you go this afternoon, and why did Ms. Clorinde see fit to take me on a tour of the grounds for an entire hour before abandoning me without a word in the library?” Neuvillette bent over him, rubbing his cheek against Wriothesley’s jaw on his way to the maid’s throat. Teeth scraped the skin there, followed quickly by a warm tongue.

            Wriothesley had not accounted for Neuvillette’s tongue getting involved in his strategy for forming coherent sentences. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

            “I was at café Lutece, meeting with our arms dealer and his… partner?” Wriothesley’s brow furrowed as he tried to dissect whatever the apparent relationship between those two actually was, or if it even had a defined title. Were they mates, too? Hard to say; he hadn’t seen a bite, but maybe Geo dragons were different, and forget ex-Archons, for that matter. “You’ve met Childe, or Ajax. He’s Fatui, technically, but he’s kind of a loose cannon when it comes to reporting back to the Tsaritsa. He’s got a thing going with Zhongli, so –”

            Wriothesley cut off as teeth sank very suddenly into the skin above his clavicle, inhaling sharply at the pain. His hands clenched into fists above his head, eyes tracking the movement of Neuvillette’s hand as one of them slipped lower, cupping the edge of his pec and squeezing the muscle there. His thumb traced along the faded line of his surgery scars, reverent in its caress. Wriothesley’s breath caught in his lungs, distracted entirely from his train of thought as Neuvillette touched him.

            “You still have not explained why you were meeting these two individuals,” Neuvillette growled against his skin, working his way over to Wriothesley’s shoulder with nibbling kisses and deep, scenting inhales.

            “Right, uh…There is no good way to say this, I guess. They’re helping me infiltrate and blow up Celestia headquarters –”

            “WHAT?!” Neuvillette jerked away from him, wide eyes boring straight through Wriothesley’s with unfiltered alarm and concern. “Wriothesley, that is reckless, even for you! Especially for you!” His clawed hand tightened reflexively over the maid’s pec, claws digging in.

            “Ah, ow – sweetheart, your claws –!” Wriothesley groaned, the sharp pinpricks of pain causing him to squirm until Neuvillette relaxed his hand. “It’s only as reckless as we make it; there are precautions being put in place and Clorinde and Navia will be assisting.”

            “No.” Neuvillette’s nostrils flared, pupils shrinking to nearly invisible slits amidst a kaleidoscope sea of violet and cobalt.

            “No?” Wriothesley balked, mouth dropping open at the refusal. He’d known Neuvillette would be resistant to the idea, had planned to break the news to him very gently, but the outright refusal? That was unanticipated. It was a rare day that Neuvillette wouldn’t at least hear him out. “You haven’t even listened to the plan yet, or the explanation of why I came up with it in the first place.” The housekeeper half-sat up in his mate’s lap, gaze hardening in turn with stubbornness to spare.

            “I said no. It’s too dangerous for you, and anyone involved. Celestia is too dangerous. We are perfectly fine out here –”

            “Are we?” Wriothesley interrupted, his jaw clenching tightly. “Are you really okay with this? With being attacked every month? Having to clean up bodies and send them back to the government like this in some kind of sick game? How long are we going to keep doing this?” Wriothesley’s imploring stare hardened like crystal as he kept Neuvillette’s eyes pinned with his own.

            Neuvillette swallowed, the first to break as his gaze fell towards the floor.

Wriothesley realized quickly that perhaps he’d gone too far.

            “If our…” Neuvillette paused, searching for the words somewhere in the fibers of the carpet. “…arrangement is no longer to your liking, you do not have to continue acting as the security for the estate.” The master of the house spoke softly, his words true but the hurt barely withheld, plain as daylight.

            Oh, he’d definitely gone too far.

            “That is not what I meant, nor what I said,” Wriothesley growled, hoisting the long black maid skirt up towards his hips so he could straddle Neuvillette’s lap properly and with maximum contact. His hand closed on either side of the dragon’s face, smooshing his cheeks together with thumb and fingers until pale lips were left puckered in a silly mimicry of a fish. “You better not mean that. We’re literally dragon-married, Neuvillette. If you think for a single second that I am going back on any of my promises, you are sorely mistaken. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and nothing will ever change that, or impact my desire to protect our home.” Wriothesley took a deep breath, “Did that get through your thick dragon skull yet?” A single dark eyebrow raised in clear challenge as Neuvillette blinked up at him, looking a little ridiculous.

            “Yes,” Neuvillette managed to say through pursed lips, brows drawing ever closer together in either annoyance or concern; it was hard to tell.

            “Good,” Wriothesley muttered with a sigh, releasing his grip and instead smoothing both his palms over those pretty, slightly flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to even vaguely imply anything about our arrangement or life being unsatisfactory. Quite the contrary.” Lips quirked upwards in a wry smile, brief as it was. “What I wanted to convey was that I want both of us to feel safe here, always. Threats to the safety of our home should be minimal, and infrequent. Celestia is going to continually send people after you until they get bored of it, which could be the entirety of my lifetime. That’s a lot of bodies, too many lives lost over something silly that they’re never going to win. I want to nip this problem in the bud, and I have a team to do it.” He watched Neuvillette’s eyes closely, letting the dragon sit with his words as long as he needed.

            “Your solution to this problem is blowing up their headquarters?” The dragon asked eventually, still looking incredibly unconvinced.

            “Partially. Zhongli suggested we leverage your outstanding reputation against theirs in what amounts to a social campaign to reduce support of their Sovereign-hunting program as well as crippling them financially. The Spina Di Rosula is handling that, and Zhongli is contacting someone he knows in Liyue about the funding. So it’s all of that, in addition to blowing up their shiny building.” Wriothesley grinned.

            Neuvillette sighed, pulling his face away from Wriothesley’s hands only to drop it back against the cushions of the high-backed chair.

            “You’re going to get hurt – I can’t risk losing you. This is immeasurably risky, Wriothesley,” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “How do you know you can trust Rex Lapis?’ Lilac eyes sparked with malice. “He was the one who sold out my location, all those years ago.” The growl returned to Neuvillette’s voice, and for good reason.

            “I know love, I know. He was genuine in showing up to this meeting. He’s retired from being an Archon, faked his death and everything if the headlines about his funeral in Liyue are to be believed. You don’t ever have to like him, or trust him, but he willingly brought crucial information with him about how to cripple Celestia, information that he shared freely. Childe trusts him with his life, and while I wouldn’t say I trust Childe in most things, I do trust him to have my back in a fight, to provide me with quality weaponry, and to bring his best into any fights he agrees to – and he brought Zhongli along.” Wriothesley’s hands settled uselessly onto Neuvillette’s shoulders, rubbing circles absently into the fabric of his suit.

            A silence flourished between them, one that Wriothesley let ride as Neuvillette became lost in his own thoughts. He dared not add any further points, well aware that he’d said his piece, and he wouldn’t be able to sway his lover any better by piling on too much information.

            It was a handful of minutes later that Neuvillette’s hands settled on Wriothesley’s waist, giving a soft squeeze as his lips parted to speak.

            “I agree with your assessment that they won’t stop until they have what they want, and that perhaps taking a more aggressive approach is worthwhile. However, I do not appreciate being left out of your planning, and I will be going with you when this takes place.” Gleaming eyes narrowed up at the housekeeper, daring him to disagree.

            Wriothesley could hardly believe what he was hearing, rearing back slightly at the unanticipated bargain leveraged his way. “That defeats the purpose of keeping you safe. If you simply walk into their headquarters of your own free will, that is counterproductive to everything we’re doing.”

            “No, it does not. If your plan is as good as you claim it to be, then everyone should be leaving in one piece, correct?” Neuvillette’s eyebrow rose in challenge, igniting Wriothesley’s pride in the worst way. He couldn’t assert that Neuvillette would be captured and maintain that he had a foolproof plan at the same time, but that didn’t account for things going wrong.

            “That is… Neuvillette that is not a fair assessment. Accidents happen, even with proper planning – ”

            “Have you not gotten me out from under their heel once before all by yourself? Do you not think yourself capable of ensuring it again? You had even less of a plan then, and a quarter of the resources at your disposal. Have the years of pampering in this estate made you doubt your capability as my private security so much?” The dragon smirked up at him, hiding nothing of how he knew he was pushing all of Wriothesley’s worst buttons.

            The maid gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing in a halfhearted glare, trapped between a cunning dragon and a wall of his own making. “You do not play fair. Pitting my sense of responsibility against my confidence… cruel dragon.” He huffed his words, feeling the incoming loss long before he was willing to admit it, his stubbornness an equal contender in their discourse.

            Strong hands slid up from his waist, caressing the muscles of his lower back as Neuvillette leaned forward, preventing Wriothesley from leaning away any further. The housekeeper’s jaw remained tense, gaze cast aside and admittances of loss trapped behind the cage of his clenched teeth. Even as Neuvillette’s breath ghosted over his lips he did not cave, pressing them to a flat line instead, in an effort to stave off his inevitable defeat.

            “I’m a dragon, and the master of this house. I have no need to play fair, especially when it comes to you.” Neuvillette’s lips brushed along Wriothesley’s jaw, sliding slyly towards his ear where sharpened fangs caught against the black gauged earring in his lobe, tugging on it teasingly. “You enjoy it when I don’t play fair; it makes you more honest.” Each word caressed his ear, further heating him from the inside.

            Wriothesley knew what Neuvillette was insinuating, hinting at breaking him down to his most vulnerable, past all his barriers of deflection and blind refusal to a place where he outright admitted what he wanted and tossed embarrassment and pride aside in favor of unfiltered desire and honesty.

            “I still don’t like the idea of you being there…” Wriothesley forced the words out, his hands shifting restlessly against Neuvillette’s shoulders. “But I can see the logic in your point. I will account for your presence in the plan.” It took all his willpower to fight through the surge of defiance and protectiveness that disagreed wholeheartedly with letting Neuvillette within one hundred miles of Celestia’s headquarters.

            “Good boy,” Neuvillette purred the words into his ear, the praise and his body betraying him as those two words shot heat directly to his groin, dampening his underwear where he straddled the Sovereign dragon. Wriothesley’s hands flexed gently against muscled shoulders, thumbs petting over soft cotton fabrics as he relaxed a fraction.

            “Rude,” Wriothesley muttered with a roll of his eyes, primarily annoyed at himself for how quickly he caved.

            One of Neuvillette’s hands snaked upwards, closing around the back of his neck with the faint threat of claws. Wriothesley was yanked back, enough to be on the receiving end of Neuvillette’s unimpressed stare.

            “Do you think yourself out of danger already? You lied to me about where you were going today, were plotting a dangerous mission without my knowledge for weeks, and came home smelling of another dragon, one you knew I have poor relations with.” His mate inclined his head, gaze assessing the human as Wriothesley’s brain kicked into overdrive. While Neuvillette’s tone was serious, there was a playful gleam to his eyes that the housekeeper hoped meant what he thought it did.

            “To be honest, I was hoping that letting you scent me and agreeing to bring you along was enough to get me out of hot water. I’m realizing now that may not be the case…” Wriothesley tried for his sweetest smile, sliding his hands down Neuvillette’s chest in a caress as he leaned forward, intent upon plying his lover with tender kisses.

            He was yanked back by his neck instantly.

            “Certainly not. In fact, I’m rather under the impression that I ought to punish you properly for this misbehavior… What do you think? We could settle this now, or later this evening, depending upon how you feel. You did only arrive home minutes ago.” Neuvillette’s clawed thumb slid up and down the side of his neck, grip relaxing faintly as he posed the question.

            They’d been doing this long enough that Wriothesley could recognize the proposition for what it was: an offer of intimacy to soothe over both their ruffled feathers, an inherent question of whether or not Wriothesley was in the mood, all of it without the pressure of forced submission. Their unique relationship, and the kinks contained within, demanded a level of constant negotiation that Wriothesley had been wary of at first. Over the years, Neuvillette had done nothing but impress him with his frequent but subtle check-ins that assessed both of their needs and let Wriothesley exercise necessary control over every interaction.

            There was no doubt in Wriothesley’s mind that Neuvillette was a little hurt by his dishonesty, and it was something they would likely circle back to later tonight, but there was an opportunity for mutual catharsis and pleasure in a little immediate play. Neuvillette would get to put Wriothesley in his place for misbehaving, and Wriothesley would get quality time, pleasure, and the undivided attentions of his mate as reassurances of Neuvillette’s continued affection, despite his fuck-up.

            How could he possibly say no to that? Especially when he was already wet with anticipation, held so steadily straddling Neuvillette’s lap.

            “What did you have in mind?” Wriothesley asked, smirk forming on his mouth, cocky and a hair challenging as they settled into the familiar routine.

            “Turning you over my lap and spanking you to start, maybe more depending upon how apologetic you seem after that. Maybe some edging, orgasm denial, using your throat, it really depends upon whether or not you feel like behaving, doesn’t it?” The dragon’s free hand slipped lower down his back, curving around the swell of his ass over his layers of black skirts. Wriothesley’s interest heightened with each new proposition, his hips shifting subtly over Neuvillette’s.

            “Seems like a fair punishment to me,” Wriothesley licked his lips, fighting a growing grin as he played coy. “If you’re looking for an apology, though, you’re going to have to work for it.” He laid down the challenge, pleased by the flare of Neuvillette’s nostrils and the way his pupils dilated in obvious desire.

            “Lay down across my lap. Now.” The dragon’s tone snapped with immediate authority, straightening Wriothesley’s spine as excitement flooded him. Defiance was quick on its heels.

            “Make me.” Wriothesley made no effort to move, simultaneously giving Neuvillette permission to be rough with him.

            There was no reply, no warning, merely the flex of fingers at the back of his neck before he was hoisted up and shoved down, face first over Neuvillette’s lap, half-draped over the arm of the chair. The cushioned piece of furniture knocked the wind out of him for half a second, but he recovered with a wheezing, delighted laugh – at least, until the hand clamped down harder on the back of his neck pinning him firmly where he lay draped, his hips over Neuvillette’s lap, knees tucked into the corner of the chair on the other side of the dragon’s thighs. His booted feet were left to dangle haphazardly in the air.

            “Make you? I will greatly enjoy making you. I was going to start off slow, but perhaps that’s not what you need, is it? Wriothesley, you’re going to count each and every single strike, and if ever you fail to count correctly, I will add another to the total.” Neuvillette slipped a hand beneath the hem of his long skirt, dragging it upwards as he dragged his clawed fingertips up the back of Wriothesley’s leg from his thigh to butt. He flipped the hem of the skirt over, letting it pool around the maid’s waist, exposing his black panties and the upper hem of lacy black stockings attached to a waist garter to hold them up. The roundness of Wriothesley’s ass was accentuated by the cut of the underwear and the thin elastic strips that curved around the outside, tension apparent where they strained around the definition of his butt.

            His gaze was locked on the ornate carpet, held down by the strong grip on the back of his neck, unable to see anything Neuvillette was doing. Oh, but that gaze burned across his skin, trailing heat as a single clawed finger began to trace along the side of one on those straps, dipping underneath before pulling it back far enough to let it snap harshly with a faint sting right against the curve of his left cheek.

            “Sweetheart –”

            “What was that?” Neuvillette’s voice cut like a knife, disappointment sharp and pointed.

            Shit. He knew better than that.

            “Sir,” Wriothesley corrected quickly, but it was too late, a hand sailing through the air before leather-clad fingers suddenly connected with the meat of his right cheek.

            Neuvillette was wearing his leather gloves. Oh god, he’d somehow put his gloves back on. Wriothesley’s mind frayed with the realization, as the sharp sting of the first hit settled into his skin. His entire body jolted at the intense spike of pain before it relaxed with his hissed exhalation through his teeth. He’d not been expecting such a merciless first hit, but it set the appropriate tone, the slow smoothing of that velvet leather over his still-tingling skin sending all sorts of sensations scattering up and down his spine.

            “Yes, treasure? You wanted to say something?” Neuvillette prompted, continuing to drag leather-clad fingers over Wriothesley’s bare skin. He was so wet between his legs, aware of how obvious it probably was, darkening the thin fabric covering his cunt. Neuvillette ignored that entirely, preferring to drag the now-blunted claws along in teasing patterns, leaving Wriothesley guessing as to where he might hit next.

            “Yes, Sir. One.” Wriothesley complied with the earlier instructions, withholding his previously sassy comment for the moment.

            “Good boy. Give me your hands, and stay put.” Neuvillette released his neck with his left hand and the housekeeper complied, staying exactly where he’d been pressed down, chest to arm of the chair, as he maneuvered first one, then the other arm behind him. Neuvillette collected each by the wrist, guiding him to bend at the elbows and fold them neatly against the arch of his lower back. “Grab your own elbows,” his mate commanded, and Wriothesley once against complied, glancing over his shoulder to survey how he looked.

            Neuvillette’s left hand found the back of his neck again, immediately pushing him back down to where he’d been.

            “I thought I told you to stay.”

            “Yes, sir, my apologies.” Wriothesley fought his grin, passing his tongue over his lips instead as he bowed his head once more. He squirmed slightly, adjusting his hips as the dragon’s other hand resumed its torment, sliding a single leather-clad finger along one of the garter straps again, only to snap it harshly against his already red ass.

            “Count aloud,” Neuvillette reminded him sharply, the only warning before Wriothesley was gasping with the force of several hits across both cheeks, the second strike layered immediately on top of the first and the next few alternating sides. The last landed upon the back of his thigh, right above the line of his stockings, and a small whine slipped out past his lips when it connected hard. He was faintly winded by the series of hits, the tingling pain raising along his nerves, sending his pulse skyrocketing with adrenaline.

            The sudden gentle pass of friction-warmed leather over raw skin had him jerking upwards, torn between pressing into the contact and shying away from the texture against sensitive skin.

            “Two, three, four, five, and six…” he counted on his next exhale, given only a second to inhale before leather collided with skin again right where thigh met the curve of his cheek.

            “S-seven,” he choked out as soon as he could manage. Neuvillette was not pulling his hits, each one harder than the last. Wriothesley had no doubts his skin was bright red. Maybe if he was lucky, there would be a bruised handprint left later.

            “Good.” Neuvillette purred the praise, and Wriothesley squirmed significantly when his ass was squeezed, a single thumb caressing down along his crack, continuing over the damp fabric covering his cunt. Pleasure spiked suddenly, a simple tease of a touch that had him pressing back, more wetness and heat gathering in the wake of that stroke.

            “So wet for me already. If you keep behaving, perhaps I’ll do something with that,” Neuvillette muttered absently, as if he weren’t tormenting Wriothesley with the possibility of being touched or fucked, as if his thumb hadn’t begun lightly rubbing back and forth over his slit, driving him crazy. “Regardless, you won’t be needing these,” the dragon continued, the sound of fabric being torn reaching him at the same time there was a harsh yank on his panties.

            A laugh startled out of him as Wriothesley felt, rather than saw, his underwear being pulled away from his hips, leaving him in just the garter and stockings. Cool air caressed the wet lips of his cunt and the too-warm skin of everywhere he’d been spanked so far.

            “Why do I even bother wearing underwear around you?” he choked out, right before another spank landed on his ass, leaving him wheezing once more.

            Neuvillette pushed him harder after that, laying hit after hit onto his ass and thighs, leather on bare skin until he could feel the thundering throb of his heartbeat in the pulse of heat on his skin. By the time Wriothesley counted to eighteen, Neuvillette had started to intermittently slide his fingers along his cunt, parting the outer lips to drag soft leather over his clit in slow, even motions that were more torture than relief. When he gasped out the twenty-fifth hit, two of those fingers sank into his cunt properly, fucking in and out of him painfully slow as he writhed, panting, a moan escaping him as he was finally given a smidge of relief amidst a sea of pleasurable pain.

            “Very good.” Neuvillette purred his praise, his left hand slipping upwards to tangle in Wriothesley’s hair, caressing strands until he tightened it into a fist, drawing the maid’s head back and up from where he’d been letting it hang.

            “S-sir,” Wriothesley whined, feet kicking gently as he was yanked into the demanding position, his lower back protesting faintly. Those fingers drove deeper, crooking slightly on the thrust to slide deliciously against that place inside of him that made his toes curl. Wriothesley felt the ‘please’ on the tip of his tongue but clamped down around it.

            He would not give in yet, not so soon.  

            “Yes? Something I can help you with?” Neuvillette inquired, his tone so level one might have assumed he was still reading his book from earlier, not knuckles deep inside his housekeeper and lover. “You know how to ask for things that you want, beloved.”

            Wriothesley whined, glancing at the master of the house from the corner of his eye, able to make out his ever-so-slightly smug expression. He could feel the tenting of Neuvillette’s pants against his hip bone, the effect of Wriothesley’s torment obvious on both of them.

            Neuvillette slipped his gloved fingers from inside the maid, tracing them along his slit to his clit, stroking over the hardened nub in teasing circles. Wriothesley’s hips bucked against his will, grinding down against the given friction like a man desperate. He was quickly falling apart, even with the slow pace, as heat built in his groin, mirroring the throbbing heat of his ass and thighs.

            “How I love to see you like this, barely coherent, distracted by every touch I give you. You’re the most amusing toy, beloved, and I know all of your buttons.” Neuvillette leaned in until his nose brushed Wriothesley’s temple, lips caressing the upper curve of his ear with each uttered phrase. “How hard it must be, to be kept just on the edge of pleasure, when we both know how well I can make you scream.”

            Wriothesley shuddered, the confirmation that Neuvillette was merely toying with him setting him ablaze with defiance.

            “I can do this all day,” he bluffed, nails digging slightly into his own skin where he gripped himself at the elbows to lock his arms in place.

            “Can you?” Neuvillette drew his hand back, lightly slapping directly over the maid’s cunt, steadily increasing the force with each subsequent hit until Wriothesley was gasping and squirming in his grasp. His clit throbbed, each hit electrifying his nerves further.

            “Y-yes –” He choked off as three fingers were abruptly shoved back into him, thrusting much faster than before. Wriothesley cried out, dropping forward over the arm of the chair as his hair was released. “Fuck!” He couldn’t move, any attempt useless with his positioning, leaving him at Neuvillette’s mercy as he played with him.

            “Would you like to cum, beloved?” Neuvillette asked sweetly, his pace increasing to drive Wriothesley ever closer to the edge of an orgasm. And Wriothesley, the fool that he was, believed him when he asked.

            “Yes! Yes, please, Sir!” The plea slipped past his guard, falling freely from his lips as he gasped and trembled faintly across the master of the house’s lap, skirts rucked up around his waist, the tops of his stockings slipping down despite the garters trying to keep them up.

            “No,” Neuvillette said cooly, yanking his fingers away at the first signs of Wriothesley’s cunt clenching around them.

            “Fuck!” Wriothesley cried out, the first swear tumbling into an entire series of choice curses as he kicked his legs, the beautiful peak he’d been climbing towards ruined. “Screw you!” he snarled, chest heaving faintly as he came down from the ruined orgasm.

            Truly, he should have expected the slap that landed harshly on his already-sore ass. Expected or not, he still yelped, wincing at the sting that quickly turned to warmth dripping out of his cunt and onto his already wet thighs. A heavy groan left him as his head dropped, the faint count of “Twenty-six,” leaving him in an exhale.

            “Beg me, and you can have what you want,” Neuvillette warned in a level tone that spoke of an unshakeable will.

            Wriothesley was doomed to lose this fight, and that was exactly how he liked it.

            He made it to the thirty-first hit before he caved, once more worked up towards his orgasm by Neuvillette’s leather-clad fingers. He was sweating, eyes smarting with the beginnings of tears as Neuvillette fucked him on his fingers, his thumb rubbing directly over his clit in combination, meant entirely to drive him wild. It worked; he was rapidly falling into a state of mind that left him pliable and needy.

            “Please! Please, sir, please, I can’t, I can’t, no more, please! I need –! I’m sorry, please –” Wriothesley’s barely coherent words slipped past his tongue and fell from his mouth in a constant stream of consciousness. He was going to lose his mind if he was edged for any longer, his clit and cunt aching in tandem.

            “Good boy. You may cum,” The dragon sovereign purred, fingers stroking through Wriothesley’s sweat-dampened hair. The relief that flooded the maid at those words was enough to make him sob in pleasure. That hand travelled down, caressing his face, over his lips before two digits were shoved between his parted lips, thrusting in time into his mouth and against his tongue.

            Wriothesley’s eyes rolled upwards as he sucked on those fingers, moaning incoherently around them.  His teeth caught on the leather, the texture against his tongue delighting his senses further.

            Neuvillette sped his other hand, his fingers rhythmically hitting all the right places until Wriothesley was falling to pieces in his lap. He felt the cresting wave of pleasure spike deep in his core, an incoherent whine building in him before the tension snapped with a gasp. His back bowed, ass in the air as his legs shook with the force of his orgasm.

            “Yes! Yes, fuck!” He practically sobbed in relief around the intrusion in his mouth, the tension bleeding out of him as he fell limp in his lover’s lap. Those fingers continued to stroke inside of him, slowing until they pulled free entirely, leaving him empty on both sides.

            Only for Neuvillette to slide two of them through the mess of fluid left from his orgasm, rubbing pointedly against his clit.

            Wriothesley groaned, realizing that his punishment was far from over. The sensation was too much, his hips jumping at the sharp stings of pleasure that bordered on painful. Neuvillette’s free hand pressed down on his upper back, holding him firmly in place as he continued to overstimulate the housekeeper.

            “P-please – Fuck, I can’t!” Wriothesley sobbed, as he was forcibly worked up again, unable to think through the torment. His nails dug halfmoons into his own skin, stubbornly still clasped behind his back as he accepted the agony Neuvillette bestowed upon him. His begging was useless now, and even his squirming and kicking of his feet did nothing to stop the fingers stroking over his clit.

            Wriothesley shouted as he was brought to a second orgasm, much too soon, shivering with the sudden violent burst of pleasure that blanked his mind and left him dizzy. He could feel the wetness between his thighs, vaguely aware he must have gotten his release all over Neuvillette’s lap as well as his own stockings.

            “Please, sir…” he rasped hoarsely, trembling faintly as Neuvillette pet lazily along his soaked folds.

            The dragon hummed before he relented, fingers sliding away. Wriothesley blinked deliriously, craning his neck at an awkward angle if only to watch dumbly as his mate brough his fingers up to his own mouth and licked them clean.

            Fucking Archons. Wriothesley felt betrayed by his own body when new heat sparked in his groin at the sight. He groaned, letting himself fall limp once more as he took steadying breaths.

            “You taste delicious, beloved. Have you learned your lesson?”

            “Yes,” Wriothesley croaked, practically upside-down with how bent over he was.

            “Wriothesley, let your arms go,” Neuvillette murmured suddenly, and he obeyed in an instant, releasing his elbows. It was only as he did so that he realized his shoulders ached, as did the skin of his forearms.

            Warm hands eased his arms back into a more neutral position, and with a strength that seemed improbable, Neuvillette scooped his hands under him and lifted him to sitting in his lap. He hissed when his tender and raw skin hit the fabric of Neuvillette’s lap.

            “I know, darling,” Neuvillette soothed, checking over his arms, assessing the damage Wriothesley had done to his own skin in his incoherent pleasure. “Let me heal these for you –”

            “No, don’t. They’re fine. ‘m good,” Wriothesley requested, slumping sideways into Neuvillette’s chest until he could lay against him and nuzzle into his neck.

            “Are you certain?” Neuvillette asked warily, to which the maid only nodded mutely. “Then I will let them be for now,” the dragon murmured sweetly, pressing a kiss to Wriothesley’s hair, his arms winding around the housekeeper until he was cradled gently into his chest. His long skirt fell haphazardly over both their legs, disguising everything that had just happened in a matter of seconds.

            “Damn, you did a number on my ass,” Wriothesley joked after a few contemplative moments. It drew a sweet laugh from his mate below him, one that warmed him to the fullest.

            “I did; it was quite pleasurable. Did you enjoy yourself?” The dragon nuzzled into Wriothesley’s sweaty hair, lavishing kisses down his cheek.

            “Yeah. Hard not to when you’re forcing orgasms out of me.” He chuckled, shifting where he sat and feeling the distinct press of two hard lengths to his outer thigh. Wriothesley glanced at Neuvillette, raising an eyebrow as he slid his arms around his lover’s neck, brushing the tips of their noses together. “Can I assist you further, sir?” he asked with a growing grin.

            Neuvillette fought a smile of his own, hands wandering down Wriothesley’s back and along his covered thigh.

            “You may, if you’re not too tired. I would… hmn.” He trailed off, a sudden hesitance shuttering his expression.

            “What?” Wriothesley encouraged, leaning in to ply two sensual kisses to his dragon lover’s tempting lips. “Tell me what you want. I’ll serve you however you wish.” The teasing words came all too easily as Wriothesley shifted gears in his mind, focusing in on Neuvillette’s pleasure and their mutual satisfaction.

            “Would you let me use your mouth and finish on your face?” Neuvillette’s cheeks pinked faintly at the admission, and Wriothesley failed to stop his snort of amusement.

            “That’s it? Of course you can. Sweetheart, I thought you were going to ask for something crazier than that, with how flushed your face is. Where was all this adorable shyness when you were obliterating my ass with your hand just now?” Wriothesley cracked a full grin, deriving great pleasure from the way Neuvillette’s flush darkened even further.

            “That was different. This is something the dragon in me wants. My instincts... they want you to smell like me, be marked by me.” His nose wrinkled visibly, “It is a touch crass, but I want to overpower any scent left on you from this afternoon with my own.”

            Wriothesley’s broadened grin softened at the confession, the vulnerability of Neuvillette’s request obvious in how rarely he let his possessiveness rule his decision making. The maid leaned in to steal another kiss, parting his lips to invite Neuvillette’s long forked tongue into his mouth to do as it pleased. He hummed as the dragon got the hint, licking the roof of his mouth, deepening the kiss until Wriothesley was moaning around his tongue.

            He pulled away for air, petting Neuvillette’s cheek fondly.

            “Baby, you can mark me until you’re thoroughly satisfied. I want you to fuck my throat and cum all over my face while I get off grinding against your boot. Then you can take me to bed and mark me from the inside, too. How does that sound?” Wriothesley watched Neuvillette’s draconic pupils expand, satisfaction of a different kind filling him to see his lover so interested in the ideas he proposed.

            “Yes, more than good,” Neuvillette growled through a suddenly hoarse throat.

            “Excellent.” Wriothesley slipped from his lap, sinking down to his knees before the grand chair, hiking the long black skirt up and over his thick thighs so it could pool behind him on the soft blue carpet. The top of his uniform remained unbuttoned, displaying his collarbones and pecs, all for Neuvillette’s hungry gaze.

            He guided Neuvillette’s leg between his spread ones, reached up to catch his hands, tugging one into his hair and the other to his lips. Wriothesley wasted no time sucking two of Neuvillette’s fingers back into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks as he made a display of taking them to the back of his throat.

            “Treasure…” Neuvillette muttered reverently, blinking out of his daze as he sat up and took hold of Wriothesley’s hair. The maid chuckled around the mouthful, pulling off to flick his tongue over the tips in an obvious tease.

            “Come on, baby,” he purred, sliding his hands up Neuvillette’s thighs to the waistband of his pants, unfastening the button with ease as he looked up at him through thick, dark lashes. “Use me,” he implored in a low seductive tone.

            Wriothesley freed both of his lover’s cocks, raising up on his knees to give himself better access. That was all the encouragement Neuvillette needed to snap back into the proper headspace, as he yanked Wriothesley forward towards his groin. The maid went with a giddy feeling in his chest as those curved, pretty dragon cocks met his lips. He kissed the tips of each, focusing his attention on the top one as he wet his lips and sank down onto it as far as he could comfortably go.

            Neuvillette guided him at first, letting him bob his head, tracing the ridges and vein on the underside reverently with his tongue as he took him in and out of the warm, wet cavern of his mouth. Wriothesley waited patiently, adjusting to the familiar motions of giving head, swallowing around the length in his mouth until Neuvillette finally saw fit to take control.

            “So handsome, on your knees for me,” Neuvillette groaned, sliding his leg forward until shin connected with the apex of Wriothesley’s thighs. The maid groaned around his mouthful, grinding his hips enthusiastically against Neuvillette’s leather boot.

            The hand in his hair tightened, twisting to get a grip at the roots, before dragging Wriothesley forward. He swallowed around Neuvillette’s cock as the tip kissed the back of his throat. Pale blue eyes ringed with gold watered as he fought against his gag reflex, and with an encouraging tug, Wriothesley sank all the way down until his lips brushed the soft, curling white hair at the base of his Sovereign’s cock.

            Above him, Neuvillette sighed in bliss, his blatant enjoyment only encouraging the housekeeper as he stroked the dragons second cock, squeezing just under the head with each pass. Wedgewood eyes watched Neuvillette’s face, swallowing him down, letting the master of the house fuck his throat in earnest as he shamelessly humped his shin.

            Claws scraped gently along his scalp, each tug of that firm hand guiding Wriothesley to lean forward or away, accommodating the undulations of the Hydro Sovereign’s hips. His cock felt divine, bullying his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply each time it pressed properly to the back. All of it left the housekeeper dizzy, drooling down his chin into his mate’s lap as he slurped and gagged sloppily along his length.

            Neuvillette used him relentless and quick, chasing his own pleasure, reducing his housekeeper down to nothing more than a warm hole to fuck into. There was no reason for it to be this hot, but Wriothesley couldn’t stop rolling his hips against Neuvillette’s boot, delirious with desire, chasing euphoria as if he hadn’t just been forcibly brought to his climax twice.

            Their eyes met, Wriothesley’s blurred by shimmering tears, Neuvillette’s opalescent gaze half-lidded with pleasure and possessiveness. The maid shivered where he kneeled, legs spreading wider, the stockings on his thighs squeezing into flexed muscles, leaving red impressions where the garter clips attached to the tops.

            “If only you knew how salacious you looked right now, in your rumpled uniform. I’ve always liked you in the longer skirts –” Neuvillette’s hips snapped up harshly as he yanked Wriothesley down, dragging him flush with his groin as the maid’s eyes rolled upwards in bliss.

            He couldn’t breathe; it was perfection.

            “– Humping my leg like a dog in heat. You’re positively perfect you filthy, filthy man,” the dragon groaned, holding Wriothesley steady until he felt his vision start to swim ever so slightly. Wriothesley tapped twice on the dragon’s thigh, and instantly he was pulled back, coughing as he gasped for air, drool trailing down his chin, connected in a long thread to the glistening tip of Neuvillette’s dick.

            He blinked back fresh tears, leaning forward to lick and drag his lips over the tip, swirling his tongue over the pretty tapered head as Neuvillette pet his hair in long soothing motions and gave him a moment to breathe. Wriothesley’s hand resumed its stroking of his other cock, lips curling in a smile as he teased his lover and himself, slowing his own hips down to temper the growing heat in his groin.

            “Going to cum on my face, love?” he rasped, voice wrecked from the earlier throat fucking. Both hands got involved, one on each length, stroking in tandem steadily. Wriothesley licked a wide stripe on the underside, dipping the tip of his tongue into the slit teasingly. He could feel Neuvillette’s legs tense, hips rolling forward, pushing the head of his cock into Wriothesley’s mouth.

            “Yes,” Neuvillette growled, nudging Wriothesley’s hand out of the way to grasp his own cock at the base. The maid opened his mouth obligingly, groaning as the length slid back inside, fucking against the inside of his cheek with quick thrusts, Neuvillette seeking his end as he used his housekeeper.

            Free hand braced around the back of his mate’s leg, Wriothesley used the new handhold to direct his own thrusting, fucking his hips against Neuvillette’s shin relentlessly. Dark lashes fluttered as heat shot up his spine, turning his coordinated efforts into something sloppy and desperate as he sought his own climax.

            Absently, he realized that he was going to stain the rug if he came all over Neuvillette’s boot.

            Well, that sounded like a problem for future him to deal with.

            He had much better things to concentrate on, like the tantalizing little growls of pleasure falling from Neuvillette’s mouth as he clutched the back of Wriothesley’s head and fucked once more into his mouth. He did his best to tongue at the head of Neuvillette’s cock each time it pressed towards his throat, and it wasn’t long until the master of the house was gasping, yanking Wriothesley off his length, and jerking himself to completion.

            The housekeeper opened his mouth dutifully, sticking out his tongue and holding still as hot cum splattered salty and bitter across his tongue, cheeks, and even his forehead. To add to the intentional mess, and draw out the growling whines of his mate, Wriothesley increased the pace of his spit-slicked hand over Neuvillette’s second cock. He was rewarded with a snarling groan as the Hydro Sovereign came again, painting Wriothesley’s chin, neck, and exposed chest with splatters of white.

            Ever the tease, he collected the cum in his mouth and let it dribble intentionally down his chin and throat, eating up the hungry expression on Neuvillette’s face as those white, needle-thin pupils watched the display ravenously. It was that awestruck desire that tipped Wriothesley over the edge, his grip on Neuvillette’s calf tightening near to bruising as he shuddered, grinding his hard clit against his mate’s boot with a pleading gasp.

            “Neuvillette – Fuck!” Wriothesley’s vision hazed as he was swept up in a wave of bliss, hips trembling as he lost his grip and sank back onto his heels. The steel-plated back of his boots dug into his tender ass, causing a pained hiss to slip from between his lips.

            “Careful, beloved.” Neuvillette caught him by the forearm before he could fall over, balancing him with the attention one bestowed upon a priceless artifact. The dragon reached forward, smearing some of his own cum along Wriothesley’s bottom lip before he pressed it into his mouth, smearing it against his tongue. “My word, you are a sight right now,” he whispered reverently.

            Wriothesley laughed, licking Neuvillette’s finger and his lips clean with an exaggerated swipe of his tongue.

            “Yeah?” he asked, rakish grin easing into place. “You seem to be enjoying it. Do you want to take a picture?” His glacial eyes sparkled with mischief as he smeared his hand upwards, through the mess dripping over his pecs. Neuvillette’s pointed ears twitched, his nostrils flaring slightly as a faint purring became audible from where he sat.

            Oh, what an adorable treat.

            “I do not require a photograph,” Neuvillette asserted stubbornly, tucking himself back into his pants and straightening his clothing.

            “If you insist. I’m going to remember how much you liked this for later,” Wriothesley laughed, wiping his hand and face off on the fabric of his long skirt as best he could, making to stand on still slightly unsteady legs. Ever the gentleman, Neuvillette offered him his assistance, helping him up.

            “Of course you are,” Neuvillette sighed, reaching up to attempt to fix Wriothesley’s hair, only to promptly give up with a distressed noise made in the back of his throat.

            “Only for fun and consensual reasons, love,” the maid taunted, grabbing his mate by the chin to pull him in for a somewhat unpleasantly sticky, cum-flavored kiss. Neuvillette reared back instantly, making a face that had Wriothesley laughing even harder than before.

            “Must you?” Neuvillette asked, tasting the inside of his own mouth like he’d eaten too-dry, rancid, fried food.

            “Yes. I enjoy lovingly tormenting you. If I have to swallow it, you should at least share the experience every once in a while,” the maid said with a carefree shrug as he turned and headed towards the library entrance.

            “I think not. You volunteer enthusiastically to do that.” Retribution was swift in the form of a firm slap through his skirt, right over his sore ass. Wriothesley’s shout of alarm and pain went ignored as the master of the house grabbed him by the hand and led the way to the main staircase.

            “Ow?” the maid scoffed, following tiredly up each step after his draconic husband. “Have I not suffered enough this evening?” he complained unseriously, playing up the weariness he felt to his very bones. Perhaps he was actually getting too old to be on his knees for that long; the stiffness in those crucial joints already was a bad sign.

            “Perhaps. Let’s get cleaned up. After all, you still owe me some more details, especially if I am to accompany you on this assault you’ve been plotting.” Lilac eyes glanced back over a broad shoulder, appraising Wriothesley with something serious amidst their teasing banter.

            Wriothesley shifted their hands, lacing their fingers together tightly, smile turning soft like the sky at sunset greeting the moon and stars.

            “I think that’s something we can discuss once we’re comfortably in bed.” His long skirt swished around his ankles as they reached the next landing, heading directly for the master bedroom. “I’m happy to answer your questions, love, and to take your opinions under consideration. However, there is one thing you should know…” Wriothesley tugged them to a standstill just outside their bedroom.

            “Oh? And what is that?” Neuvillette raised one eyebrow, hand resting upon the doorknob expectantly.

            “We’ll need to get you fitted properly for a uniform.” Wriothesley said with certainty.

            “Uniform?” Neuvillette echoed, confusion running rampant across his face. “What uniform?”

            “Why, a security uniform, monsieur. One of a kind, state of the art, made to fit you personally.” He gestured down at his horribly rumbled and now stained maid outfit.

            Neuvillette stared blankly for a long moment, until a small grin cracked the neutral façade.

            “For you, beloved? Anything. I’ll send my measurements to Chiori tomorrow morning.”

            Wriothesley leaned in, planting a wet kiss on his lover’s cheek.

            “Perfect. You’ll look more than handsome, I’m certain.” Wriothesley opened the bedroom door for them, tugging Neuvillette through into their room and towards the ensuite bathroom. “Now, help me wash all of this off, and tell me if any of your handprints look like they’re going to bruise.”

            Wriothesley was worried about a good number of things revolving around his plan.

            How good they would look rolling up in various custom maid uniforms was not one of them.

Chapter Text

Before the final chapter, please feast your eyes upon this art by KTB. That is all. Thank you <3

            “Okay, I have a serious question!”

            Wriothesley rolled his eyes, pausing his inspection of the rocket launcher propped up on the dining room table and turning his attention to the washroom door in the hallway.

            “I swear to the Sovereigns, if you ask me how a dress works, Ajax –” the combat maid muttered under his breath, setting the rag he’d been holding aside as he walked closer. “What is it?” He dug deep for patience, knowing it was just the stress of the looming operation that had his tolerance so strained.

            “How the fuck do tights work? Does my underwear go inside or outside of them? Are the tights necessary?” There was a muffled thump followed by a curse. Wriothesley pursed his lips, fighting a very real laugh that would likely only make the situation worse.

            “Yes, they’re very necessary. You put them on like a pair of pants; they’re a sturdy material with snaps sewn in for attachment points for additional weapons. You know how I can fit, like, six knives, three grenades, and two pistols under my skirt? That’s how.” Wriothesley paused, deciding to be generous and answer the second, unasked question buried in there. “Wearing underwear under can cause it to bunch uncomfortably. I suggest you go commando. As for where your junks goes, well… I don’t have that problem, so, best of luck. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

            “Fuck you, man,” Ajax groaned, the sounds of a very real struggle ensuing.

            “You know, Zhongli didn’t have any questions for me about the uniform.” Wriothesley crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall as the man in question came around the corner from the kitchen. He’d opted for a longer, tighter skirt, with a slit up the side for movement and a more traditional Liyuan black top with white trim and matching little white knotted bows tied at the sleeves. The coordinating black stockings and heels were secured properly with garters, as was the apron, a frilled halter kind that crossed in an x in the back. Wriothesley acknowledged the older gentleman and former Archon with a nod of his head.

            “He got regular socks! I saw them!” Childe argued through the thick door.

            “You asked for the traditional, modern Fontainian, maid uniform. That comes with the full tights. Now quit your whining and finish getting dressed. We have a lot more to do today other than play dress up.”

            “It might be worthwhile to mention, Ajax, that this is not my first time wearing such attire. Admittedly, though, I may need a bit of time to adjust to wearing heels once more.” Zhongli came to a stop on the other side of the door, looking down at his footwear with some level of concern.

            “I leave shoe preferences up to you. As much as I enjoy the benefits of a good heel, even I will be wearing my boots for this. Unfamiliar terrain in stilettos is asking for a broken ankle.”

            “Oh wow, my ass looks great in these.” Ajax suddenly piped up from beyond the door. Wriothesley rolled his eyes, beyond grateful when Zhongli headed towards the bathroom.

            “Are you in need of assistance?” the older gentleman asked with a soft knock. Wriothesley left them to their own devices, more than sure that he didn’t accidentally want to see Childe’s dick through sheer tights today of all days.

            No, if he was going to be interacting with anyone’s dick(s), it would be those of the dragon variety belonging to his mate.

            Speaking of, Wriothesley wandered towards the main staircase, realizing that it had been quite some time since he’d heard from Neuvillette. It wasn’t entirely unlikely that he, too, was struggling with the uniform, and that was a task the combat maid had no qualms about assisting with. They regularly helped dress one another; it was an intimate but non-sexual activity they both enjoyed.

            The housekeeper froze, however, one hand on the banister and one foot on the first step, as he caught sight of the figure descending from the second floor. Air ceased to be necessary, sucked in sharply through teeth as he stared openly, jaw seconds from landing on the floor at the vision bestowed upon him.

            Neuvillette’s eyebrow raised as he took the stairs leisurely, one at a time, the long, black skirt swaying elegantly around him. Decorative cream tasset-like overskirt panels hung from each hip, tied at the waist and attached to pleated lace straps that flared up and out at the shoulders. The entire ensemble was loosely Victorian–inspired, and featured a white, smocked piece edged in lace at the front that closed all the way to the throat and was accented by a dainty black bow. The long sleeves made Neuvillette’s slender arms look, if possible, even more elegant, and the lace cuffs and black gloves completed a stunning and refined look.

            Wriothesley was having a hard time breathing. Scratch that, he was having a hard time remembering all basic bodily functions, as his heart also beat an unnatural and vaguely upsetting rhythm.

            “Beloved? Are you amenable to assisting me with the buttons in the back? They’re pearl buttons, and there are so very many; I cannot possibly reach all of them.” Neuvillette stopped a few steps away, nearly within reach, eyes alight with mischief. “Have I rendered you speechless? Is it that hideous?” His expression fell slightly.

            Wriothesley scrambled internally, quickly picking his jaw up off the ground as his mind snapped out of the vortex of lust and attraction it had readily fallen into. “‘Hideous’ could not be a more incorrect word to describe you right now. You’re –" His words failed him again, heeled steps bringing him to a single hairsbreadth away from Neuvillette.

            “I am...?” the dragon prompted, encouraging his maid to continue speaking with a gentle caress of Wriothesley’s cheek, just the lightest brush with the back of two fingers.

            “Stunning? Ethereal? A vision? Hot.” Wriothesley swallowed around the word. “So fucking hot.”

            “You’re blushing, Wriothesley,” Neuvillette commented smugly, chin tilting upwards in his obvious satisfaction.

            “Yeah, no shit. Is this how you feel all the time when I’m prancing around in dresses and skirts?” He reached out to tug on the outer hem of Neuvillette’s dress, watching the fabric sway side to side, daring to lift it enough that he could see the black, pointed toed Victorian boots beneath and the hint of a stocking-clad leg.

            “Not every moment of every day, but there are some uniforms of yours that get me rather randy. Especially the ones that hide more than they show. It always tempts my instincts; I want nothing more than to peel it off you.” His voice rumbled with a deep purr as he stepped ever closer, nosing at one of Wriothesley’s cheekbones. Their skirts tangled, mingling in a mixture of black and white fabric.

            “No wonder you can’t help fucking me all over the house,” Wriothesley muttered, dumbstruck as he traced lightly over bits of lace and pinstripe black fabric, gaze wandering ceaselessly. It was quite the uniform, one befitting of a Sovereign of status like Neuvillette. “Let me button you up,” he offered, turning Neuvillette to face away from him with firm hands on his hips.

            The buttons were indeed numerous, old fashioned in the way that each white, pearlized button was meant to slip through a delicately embroidered loop on the opposite side. It was reminiscent of wedding gowns, and Wriothesley treated the task of deftly pushing each button into its home with a similar sort of reverence.

            “Did Chiori design this especially for you?” the housekeeper asked, progressing inch by inch up the curve of Neuvillette’s spine, his breathing speeding up as he wished he were undoing them instead.

            “She did. I reached out and gave her some inspiration, but by then, it seemed that she’d already come up with the concept. Truly, she’s outdone herself.” Neuvillette fiddled with the lace edges of the sleeves. Wriothesley’s hands started to meander further, tracing down sides, along a lithe waist, tugging the dragon closer as their gazes met, heralding the parting of lips as they tilted towards one another in the beginnings of a dance, both familiar and wonderful –

            “WRIOTHESLEY!” Childe’s voice rang like shattered glass through the house. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

            Wriothesley froze, lips centimeters from his husband’s as a vein made its presence known upon his forehead – a representation of his rapidly mounting irritation.

            “Excuse me, monsieur, I apparently have an ass to kick,” he muttered tersely, stealing one quick kiss. Wriothesley pivoted with a pointed swish of his skirts, stalking down the stairs with all the shark-like intensity of a nun on the warpath against a group of unruly schoolboys.

            “Remember, we need him for the mission tomorrow,” Neuvillette called gently after him, to which Wriothesley waved nonchalantly over his shoulder.

            “I won’t kill him,” was all the assurances he gave.

            Wriothesley determined Ajax’s position in the dining room by the sound of his voice alone, and with near silent footsteps, he slipped into the space behind the ginger. The other man was, at least, finally dressed properly, the maid uniform with the short skirt and layers upon layers of ruffled white petticoats sitting prettily over black-tight-clad thighs. He’d even put the bow in his hair, Wriothesley noted with some interest.

            Zhongli saw him first, watching passively as the deadly housekeeper slipped one beefy arm around Childe’s throat from behind, wrestling him into a firm headlock in a matter of seconds.

            “Ack!” Ajax grabbed at his arm, nails digging in to try to pry Wriothesley off his windpipe unsuccessfully.

            “What could you possibly need so desperately that you felt it was necessary to scream across the house?” Wriothesley growled, further securing the smaller man by swiping his legs out from under him, pivoting both of their weight to drop the arms dealer to the ground, almost on his face. Generously, he caught the ginger at the last second, instead setting him on the ground flat on his back. Less generously, he clamped one of his own legs around one of Childe’s, forcing it to bend backwards, where Wriothesley could catch one stocking clad ankle.

            The former Archon, meanwhile, watched placidly as Wriothesley sat upon his target, securing an opposite arm and leg in a wrestling hold that released Ajax’s throat but kept him fully incapacitated.

            “OW! You asshole, my shoulder’s gonna dislocate!” Childe shouted, kicking and flailing like a fish out of water as Wriothesley reclined on top of him, skirts draped classily to hide the absolutely murderous hold his thighs had on Childe’s leg.

            “Only if I do this,” he retorted, leaning his weight threateningly to one side, putting the faintest pressure on the arms dealer’s rotator cuff.

            “No! No, no, no, you need me tomorrow! I’m sorry! Why me?! Fuck you, man!” Childe’s protests grew in volume, free hand slapping the ground as he struggled fruitlessly, looking more fishlike with every passing second.

            “I won’t; I do need your arms in working condition tomorrow.”  Wriothesley relaxed his grip a fraction, giving Ajax room to breathe, even if it only made him struggle harder. “So, what did you need me for?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neuvillette enter the dining room, the epitome of poise and beauty. Wriothesley hadn’t even noticed the dragon’s hair earlier, elegantly braided down his back with a black bow edged in white lace.

            Exquisite.

            “I only wanted to see if I was wearing this right! And where the fuck I’m supposed to put all these weapons you keep mentioning!” Childe whined beneath him. Wriothesley sighed, fully letting go of his brief fantasies of ravishing Neuvillette in his new uniform before their logistical meeting.

            It had been a nice dream while it had lasted.

            “Then we should get this meeting started. Now that everyone is here – other than the ladies, of course.” Wriothesley looked between the other two maids in the room.

            All at once, he dropped his hold, standing as he brushed his skirts smooth once more, taking his sweet time as he did so. When Ajax predictably moved to try and enact quick revenge, Wriothesley stepped on the middle of the man’s back with his heel, exerting just enough pressure with stiletto against spine to make Childe freeze whole-body in place.

            “Now, now, let’s not start fights we can’t win, Ajax,” Zhongli chided calmly from across the room.

            Wriothesley grinned, shark-like, down at the ginger, who peered up at him with the burning passion of a man who would claw his way out from the depth of the Abyss if given the opportunity.

            “Yeah, Ajax, stop starting fights you can’t finish,” Wriothesley echoed mockingly.

            “Wriothesley.” Neuvillette’s deep voice cut through the room, his tone sharpened in the way that promised so very much and simultaneously curled the corners of his housekeeper’s mouth up in a smile turned sheepish.

            His foot left the other man’s back, and Wriothesley ambled innocently across the room to the grand, now repaired, table filled end-to-end with weapons and armaments of various kinds.

            “Yes, monsieur?” he asked playfully, plucking a pistol and the corresponding ammo from the table with ease, loading and cocking the gun. He fully ignored the sounds of a struggle behind him as Zhongli helped Ajax to his feet and one-handedly held the spitfire back, presumably from trying to kick Wriothesley in the ass or worse.

            “Play nice; we all have a common goal.” Neuvillette raised a single brow.

            “I was playing nice,” Wriothesley retorted with a pout, setting the pistol aside with the safety on as he plucked its matching partner and loaded it in the same fashion.

            “Bullshit!” Childe complained behind him.

            “Yeah, yeah. Shut up and take these.” The combat maid turned and with a smooth spin of both pistols around his index fingers, held them towards Ajax. “I’m going to show you where to secure them on your thighs. You,” he turned his gaze to Zhongli, “Prefer a polearm, correct?”

            Zhongli nodded, glancing towards the table filled with grenades and other modern weaponry. Wriothesley could tell he was unfamiliar with most of it, but his hands and arms were that of a warrior all the same. “That should be fine. I can outfit you with a shoulder harness to carry it on your back. You’re mostly going to be setting charges in the basement, so I don’t expect you to wield a gun; however, I do have these.” The combat maid leaned over the table, grabbing a collection of small, palm-sized, square devices that had a Geo symbol carved onto the top. He slid them closer to the former Archon, picking one up to demonstrate.

            Zhongli raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Oh?”

            “They’re artificial terrain generators. Traditionally, they’re used to create cover in combat situations, which is a perfectly reasonable use. However, you can manipulate Geo, right?” The affirmative nod sent his way indicated to Wriothesley that he could continue his explanation without pause. “So, in theory, if you say, primed this and threw it down a hallway, you could manipulate the material it produces in any direction you saw fit. Think of it like bowling, except the bowling ball is the size of a small boulder, and the pins are Celestia’s guards trapped in a long hallway.” Wriothesley grinned when he saw Zhongli’s eyes flash with sharp and deadly delight.

            “I see; the intent is to bring the Geo element into a building otherwise devoid of such a thing. How clever. I shall use this strategically.” He took each one, inspecting them carefully.

            “Now, Ajax,” Wriothesley turned his attention to the arms dealer, who had his skirts hiked up as he attempted, poorly, to attach leather straps to the snaps sewn into the stockings he had on. The housekeeper sighed, walking over to assist. “Around the thigh, like a garter.”

            “What’s a garter?” Childe asked, looking more confused by the second as he gave up, resorting to merely holding his fluffy skirts aside for Wriothesley to work.

            “A thigh strap. It sits on the upper thigh, used to keep stockings up or shirts down. You know what, never mind. Like this.” He snapped the leather attachment in place, taking both pistols and slipping each into the matching holsters now secured to Childe’s thighs. “The ammo box attaches here,” he pointed to the snap attachments below the guns. “Or you can put grenades there and store the ammo in your pockets.” He stood, knees protesting the awkward under-skirt angle he’d been crouched in.

            “This thing has pockets?!” Ajax started to pat his uniform down animatedly.

            “Yes. They’re designed to hold a lot. They’re secured inside the petticoat layers.” He grabbed both of the ginger’s hands and guided them to the skirt itself, the hidden slits in the black fabric revealing a spacious pocket sewn into the lining and layers of the skirts.

            “HOLY SHIT I COULD FIT AN UZI IN HERE!”

            Wriothesley laughed, stepping away smugly as the ginger ran to the table to see exactly how many items he could fit on his person now that he’d figured out the uniform.

            Long fingered hands settled upon Wriothesley’s waist, drawing his attention away from the pair exploring the range of armaments as Childe animatedly began explaining different elemental grenades to Zhongli as well as the bombs they would be setting in the basement levels. Lilac eyes peered at him over his shoulder, a smile gracing Neuvillette’s features with a soft and subtle warmth.

            “Yes, dear?” Wriothesley asked, his own hands finding a home atop his husband’s.

            “Do I get any special equipment?” the dragon inquired, possessive claws flexing over Wriothesley’s apron-clad hips.

            “Of course, my love. Did you think I forgot about you?” He reached up to lovingly caress one pale cheek, nuzzling into the opposite one in a display of affection most would balk at, but was so ingrained in their repertoire the housekeeper didn’t even think twice about it. “Come here.”

            He led Neuvillette by the hand to the large weapon he’d been cleaning and assembling earlier, where it sat primly upon the other side of the table.

            “Have you ever used a grenade launcher before? I had Ajax procure some Hydro cannisters for us, ones you can preemptively fill with your own Authority.” He retrieved one such cannister, holding it out for Neuvillette’s inspection. “You fill it with Hydro through this tiny hole here, a one-way passage that should allow you to pressurize the whole thing. Then, when it’s launched at the target, with the heat of the gunpowder explosion –”

            “It will make steam,” Neuvillette concluded aloud, blinking as he assessed the weapon more closely in faint awe.

            “Exactly. Filling whichever area you deem necessary with enough moisture in the air to use however you see fit, oh great Hydro Sovereign of mine. Hopefully, that will make it easier on you.”

            “It will make it significantly faster to pull the Hydro from the air. A genius idea.” Neuvillette purred faintly, fingers tracing over the weapon fondly.

            “You flatter me.” Wriothesley waved the compliment away. “I’m only making sure everyone has what they need to make the most of whatever this situation devolves into.”

            “And for yourself, Beloved?” Neuvillette asked curiously.

            “Well, I certainly also benefit from a little extra moisture in the air. And I have a few other things planned for our guests.” His eyes drifted over to the matching Cryo grenades and the modified Cryo-aligned shotgun that sat a few feet to the right.

            He was bringing everything but the kitchen sink with him.

            “Alright!:  Wriothesley clapped his hands together once, turning to the other inhabitants of the room. “Once Navia and Clorinde get here, let’s go over the plan from start to finish one more time.” His eyes glinted dangerously as he concluded, “Tomorrow afternoon, it’s go time.”

  Wriothesley flopped face first onto their bed with a groan born of fatigue so ancient and powerful the sound shook the very foundations of the mansion itself.

            Or so he liked to believe.

            “Long day?” Neuvillette asked from the walk-in closet, as if he hadn’t been there witnessing every logistical question and inquiry Wriothesley had fielded from every single participant. Reasonable as the questions were, and reassuring as it was to have team members who wanted to know the plan inside and out, Wriothesley was exhausted.

            “You would know.” He glared half-heartedly at Neuvillette from the bed, refusing to move.

            “I would, I suppose. Shall I undress you and tuck you in? We’ll need all the sleep we can get for tomorrow.” Neuvillette hung up his own maid uniform, ensuring all the pieces were set together within the closet, ready to go for tomorrow. Wriothesley’s sat beside it neatly; the two look, the housekeeper thought, rather complimentary side by side.

            The reminder of tomorrow, however, made something deep in his gut twist in anxiety. Everything was accounted for, but still, something could always go wrong. There was no guarantee that they would all make it out, and Wriothesley knew he’d be the first to fall on that sword, as any good leader would. If the operation went tits up, he would stay and get the rest of his team out.

            There was a non-zero chance that tonight was the last he’d spend with Neuvillette.

            It was a sobering realization, one he wished he’d not made.

            “Wriothesley?” The dragon peeked his head out from the closet, eyeing his lover with a touch of concern.

            “Sorry. I was thinking.” The housekeeper rolled onto his back, sitting up to work his heels off of tired feet, giving himself something to do with his hands as his mind spiraled. He’d gone over the plan backwards, forwards, and upside-down; they had plenty of contingencies, but no plan survived first contact. That was the first thing he’d learned all those years ago when he’d been trained under Celestia’s Spec-Ops program, when he’d excelled through all their strategy training programs and been catapulted from cadet to captain in a little over a year.

            “Yes, I can tell. You’re thinking so loudly I can hear it from here.” Neuvillette’s voice broke through the noise in his mind, stilling his hands where they’d begun unclasping the clips keeping his stockings high on his thighs.

            “That bad, huh?” he muttered under his breath, shoulders slumping with a sigh he felt to his bones.

            “What’s bothering you, beloved?” Neuvillette emerged from the closet, dressed down in blue silk pajama pants and a loose white cotton shirt. He made his way to the foot of the bed, gentle gloveless hands waving Wriothesley’s out of the way to peel the stocking away from his skin. Clawed fingertips glided gently down the housekeeper’s leg, sheer fabric bunching around Wriothesley’s ankle before it was pulled free, leaving skin bare to the cool evening air.

            “Everything,” he admitted reluctantly, leaning back on his hands and allowing Neuvillette to take over the task of undressing him.

            “Elaborate for me. Is this about tomorrow? You’ve gone quiet, a symptom most often associated with your penchant for worrying yourself into an anxious state.”

            Wriothesley watched those tender hands trace up his other leg, deftly unclasping the garter clip, thumbs dipping beneath the elastic band of the black stocking and slowly sliding it down his thigh. His breath hitched at the intimate touch, even as the itch of feeling too seen demanded he pull away, lock his jaw, and utter an easy lie about being fine.

            He didn’t give in to the instinct, vulnerability something well-rehearsed in their bedroom, enough that Wriothesley untangled the threads of defensiveness from the fear sitting hollow and weak in his chest. Neuvillette peeled him free of his second stocking in patient silence, kneeling to cradle his heel as he tugged it free. Soft lips caressed his inner anklebone, further twisting Wriothesley’s insides up in a strange concoction of trepidation and want.

            “Plans are only good to the front door. After that, once the group splits up, we’re all on our own. What if…” He pushed past the tightness in his throat. “What if this is the last night I have with you?”

            Neuvillette froze, lilac eyes meeting Wriothesley’s as he carefully lowered his partner’s leg back to the mattress.

            “Then we ought to make the most of it.” The master of the house smiled, tracing fingers up and down along Wriothesley’s bare leg. “I doubt that will be the case, as I would flood the world to ensure your safety if it came down to it, but you’re correct, if only in the fact we know not what the future holds.” Slender fingers secured themselves around Wriothesley’s ankle once more, tugging the man’s leg up to his lips. There, he began lavishing sweet and tender kisses on the inner seam, travelling up towards Wriothesley’s knee. “If this were the very last night we had together, I would worship every single centimeter of you, until the very fabric of your existence understood the depth of my love for you.”

            Wriothesley felt the heat rising in his cheeks well before Neuvillette finished talking, one hand flying to his mouth to cover his stuttered inhale as the master of the house travelled higher, appreciative kisses trailing up his thigh between each sweet word, hands pushing layers of skirts further aside to pool around hips.

            “Th-that is… Can I,” Wriothesley swallowed around the sting in his eyes, on the verge of asking for just that level of reassurance.

            “Would you like that? Shall I press solace into your skin with my own? Until there is no doubt left in your mind that I love you, that you are my most important treasure, and I would do anything to bring you home with me again tomorrow?” Neuvillette abandoned his leg, rising to lean over the maid with his whole body, tugging loose the ties keeping the man’s apron on as he cradled Wriothesley’s face with his other hand.

            “Yes,” Wriothesley exhaled as lips brushed the corner of his own, one of Neuvillette’s thighs sliding between his, urging the maid further up the expanse of their large bed. He complied easily, shifting back as Neuvillette crawled over him, nuzzling against his cheekbone, tracing his lips maddeningly close to Wriothesley’s own but never quite sealing them together. “I love you,” the maid groaned as their lips finally connected.

            Hands wandered, finding Wriothesley’s wrists and coaxing them upwards until Neuvillette could lace their fingers together, pinning his husband’s arms above his head. The dragon kissed him slow and sure, like the steady rising of the tide. Heat blossomed between their bodies as Neuvillette took his time removing each piece of Wriothesley’s maid uniform, tossing apron, petticoats, skirt, and button-down shirt aside, until his mate was bare below him save for a pair of lacey black panties.

            “Keep your hands above your head, beloved; I want to appreciate all of you without interruption. Close your eyes.” He passed his hand over Wriothesley’s face, encouraging him to do just that as he kissed along the rounded tip of one ear. “Feel me. Know that every kiss and every touch is my dedication to you. Luxuriate in it, and allow me the pleasure of seeing you at your most vulnerable.”  

            Wriothesley obeyed, his eyes remaining obediently closed, lips parted with tiny shuddering breaths as Neuvillette slid his hands up from his waist over both of his pecs. His thumbs traced over scars along the way to circle his nipples, teasing the piercings there before continuing over his arms, until every patch of skin had been caressed. The dragon aligned their hips, grinding against the obvious wetness of Wriothesley’s panties, where he could feel himself leaking in heady desire and anticipation.

            He wasn’t great at being the center of attention, the receiver of direct honesty; being the sole focus of love and admiration scared him to his core. If he were looked at too closely, then surely, his imperfections and flaws would be obvious, and he would be cast aside.

            That, he knew, wasn’t the purpose of this, and it was with years of practice that he relaxed into the bed, shedding self-consciousness so it might be replaced by pure appreciation. Not his own – he might never get there – but Neuvillette’s? He could accept that, could even find joy in his mate’s enjoyment of him, scars and imperfections and everything in-between.

            By the time every centimeter of his skin had been kissed, his groin was on fire, alight with a need for more, as he writhed in the sheets under Neuvillette, hands twisting in the blankets above his head in an honest effort not to grab his husband’s head to drag his mouth to his leaking cunt.

            “Neuvillette, please!” Wriothesley gasped, thighs splayed open as clawed thumbs pressed along the divot where leg met hip, dragging along the outside of his cunt, drawing a whimper from him as it provided the facsimile of touch, enough that his nerves tingled in anticipation and he felt more slickness wet the fabric of his underwear.

            “You’re perfection. You taste divine, and you’re all mine,” Neuvillette whispered against his inner thighs, nipping with sharp fangs against skin until Wriothesley’s hips couldn’t stay still. Only then did the dragon dip forward, tugging the drenched black panties to the side, licking over the maid’s cunt with an appreciative groan of his own.

            Wriothesley jolted at the sudden contact, cool tongue meeting his overheated insides in a play of temperatures that had him arching against the sumptuous bed. His hands nearly flew to the dragon’s hair, but the maid remembered himself at the last second and kept them put. His thighs, however, attempted to lock around his husband’s head to hold him where he was, lest he contemplated pulling away to torment Wriothesley even more.

            Neuvillette laughed, the huff of breath further teasing Wriothesley’s clit where his nose already rubbed against it rhythmically as he buried his tongue deep inside of him.

            “Oh fuck! Yes, love –” Wriothesley’s lashes fluttered, pleasure mounting rapidly as Neuvillette played him like a well-loved instrument, finally hitting all the right buttons to bring him from a trembling, needy mess to one on the crux of an orgasm. It took the dragon only a handful of minutes to drag Wriothesley, arching and whimpering, over the edge of his first climax, his tongue continually thrusting even as his lover’s walls spasmed around it and his thighs locked tight.             The maid finally blinked bleary eyes open, staring up at the ceiling, his body pleasantly alight with sensation, the wet noises of Neuvillette licking him clean deepening the flush painting his chest, cheeks and ears. “Fuck…That was so good.” He draped an arm over his forehead, breathing steady as he came down from the high.

            “I’m not done with you yet,” Neuvillette grumbled from between his thighs, licking a hot stripe directly over his clit and up his abs. The maid gasped, finally meeting that burning lilac gaze as Neuvillette crawled atop him and nearly combusting at the intensity that seared into his soul.

            Their hips slotted together, revealing to Wriothesley that his husband had, at some point, ditched his own pajamas, pressing his hardened cocks against the maid’s soaked cunt with a slow and purposeful grind. “I’ve only just begun, beloved,” the dragon cooed sweetly, nuzzling their noses together, scenting his mate affectionately.

            “Yeah?” Wriothesley asked breathlessly, arms encircling Neuvillette’s neck in a loving embrace as he pulled him into a passionate kiss. “Have me, take me, I’m yours. Show me how much you love me. Make love to me,” he whispered against Neuvillette’s lips, spreading his legs to cradle the dragon’s hips with his own, gasping as the head of one cock slipped over his entrance, teasingly passing over it, nearly pressing inside.

            “No matter what happens tomorrow,” Neuvillette dragged clawed fingers through Wriothesley’s hair, tilting his head back so they could lock gazes as he rolled his hips, rubbing his cock repeatedly over Wriothesley’s cunt, teasing his clit and entrance alike. “My love for you is eternal.”

            Wriothesley stared up at him, breath hitching with those heartfelt words and the sudden angling of hips that finally allowed Neuvillette’s lower cock to press him open.

            “My existence is yours,” Wriothesley replied, the words punched from his lungs by the deep thrust that had his mate’s cock hitting home deep inside of him in one fluid stroke.

            Words became meaningless after that, feelings flowing freely between gasping mouths and feverish kisses as Neuvillette set a slow and purposeful pace. He slid an arm under the curve of Wriothesley’s back to hold him close, so not a centimeter of space could be felt between their bodies; each thrust was deep and relentlessly steady, carving into Wriothesley as Wriothesley opened himself to Neuvillette, wanting nothing more than for the dragon to imprint himself even more concretely onto his soul. They breathed one another in, Wriothesley quickly losing sight of where he ended and Neuvillette began as the dragon sovereign coaxed his legs higher around his waist, nuzzling deep into his neck where teeth found their mark, just as they did every time they performed this dance with one another.

            Wriothesley lost track of time, didn’t bother to question the pass of it as Neuvillette found his release deep inside of his body, leaving him shivering from head to toe with an orgasm of his own. There was nothing in the world that mattered but Neuvillette’s lips on his and the buzz of energy between their skin. There could be no worry for the mundane, not when Wriothesley gleefully let his mate flip him over and have him again with his second cock.

            Each orgasm was better than the last, until they were happily exhausted, the moon high in the sky. Neuvillette had wrapped around him from behind, scenting the back of Wriothesley’s neck as the maid drifted in and out of sleep. He could still feel both of Neuvillette’s now-softening cocks inside of him, one in his ass and the other in his cunt, a comfort that he’d specifically requested, and relished the closeness it provided. Hands pet lazily over his stomach, hips, and chest, wandering in an appreciative way that asked for nothing more than what currently was.

            “You are the best decision I ever made,” Wriothesley whispered, watching blue-tipped claws flex as he was dragged even closer into Neuvillette’s naked embrace.

            “Beloved,” Neuvillette rumbled, his chest hitching with what Wriothesley hoped wasn’t the beginning of tears. One of them was prone to crying, and despite his in-bed track record of being fucked to tears, he was not the soggy culprit between the two of them.

            “I mean it. That night, I knew it was a complete gamble whether I was making the right decision or not, but something about you…” He trailed off, finding one of Neuvillette’s hands with his own so that he might pull it close to his face and nuzzle into it. “You felt different. Something about you crying in that office – you looked so damn sad and so fucking pretty. Changed the entire trajectory of my life.”

            Neuvillette snorted in amusement, lacing their fingers together with a gentle squeeze.

            “You saved me from becoming a worse version of myself. I was on the precipice of deciding whether humanity deserved my compassion, or if their continued attempts to hunt me down meant that I would be truly unwanted anywhere I went.” He kissed the mark on the side of Wriothesley’s neck, free hand petting over his lower stomach in a touch as intimate as it was sweet. “You reminded me that humans could be good – excellent, even. That they love as deeply as they are capable of hatred.”

            A comfortable silence settled over them like a blanket, until Wriothesley twisted slightly in his hold, shifting their sideways cuddle so he could half flop onto his back. He tilted his head back to align their gazes.

            “I am so lucky to be able to love you,” he murmured reverently.

            “No. Wriothesley, luck has nothing to do with it. It is an honor to love you and to be loved by you. You have my love due to your own will, your strength of character, your passion and dedication to doing the right thing. There is no one else that could possibly love me the way you do. You have earned my love and my respect a thousand times over.” Neuvillette tilted his head, brushing their noses sweetly as he leaned in for a lingering kiss. “And you shall never lose them. Not tomorrow, not years from now, and not even when you eventually leave this world.”

            Wriothesley softened under that lilac gaze, a small, uncharacteristically shy noise exiting his mouth as he lifted himself off of those cocks and rolled over entirely, ducking under Neuvillette’s chin to cling to him full-body.

            “Promise me you’ll be careful tomorrow,” he muttered gruffly around a throat clogged with unshed tears, hiding his face in Neuvillette’s neck.

            “Only if you do the same for me, Wriothesley.”

            “It’s a deal. No one dies tomorrow except Celestia.”

            The rhythm of the helicopter blades beating against the air above them vibrated Wriothesley’s chest and everything within it, matching the excited drumming of his heart. He looked at the collection of maids and butlers sitting in the helicopter, made eye contact with each of them, and swore to himself that every single one of them was coming back alive.

            “Everyone remember the plan?” He stood, securing the shotgun strapped to his back with one last tug as he grabbed onto the handle by the exit doors.

            Navia nodded, sunglasses in place as she checked her safety harness with one hand, tailcoat splayed out behind her, tightening the belt keeping her anchored to the helicopter floor. Her grip tightened on the rocket launcher; she was well and truly prepared to make a grand entrance on their behalf. Melus and Silver each gave a thumbs up from the chopper cockpit. Seated along the wall, the other three maids and one butler gave their own affirmatives. They were similarly armed to the teeth, uniforms ironed and pressed, skirts properly layered with petticoats, and pockets full of ammunition.

            “Alright then. Stick with me until we hit the main staircase. Keep your radios on at all times unless you are compromised. If I hear your radio go dead without an explanation, that’s my cue to come bail you out. No actual names from here on out – use the code names we agreed on.” He eyed each of them, gaze lingering on Childe until the youngest of the group gave him a thumbs up.

            “What is our meeting spot if things go poorly?” Clorinde chimed in, checking that her pistol was properly loaded with the Electro shots she’d been given yesterday. Her pressed black vest and matching slacks were outfitted with hidden pockets, a few additional straps providing her a holster on her leg for the pistol in her hand as well as the long-range rifle on her back.

            “The roof, for extraction. If that’s unavailable, there is a standalone guard tower to the southeast. The roof there also works for extraction. Navia, we’re counting on your team to get us out.” The entire room turned to look at the blonde butler, who nodded enthusiastically despite the pressure.

            “You can count on us, partner. We’ll get everyone out in any situation, right Melus, Silver?” Her grin was contagious, coaxing smiles from Clorinde and, of all people, Neuvillette. Wriothesley felt a smidge of the pressure on his shoulders unwind.

            “Then let’s do this. Celestia will have no idea what hit them.”

            And with those words, Wriothesley shoved open the side door of the chopper, the skirts of his dress flying about as the wind whipped up by the rotating blades above invaded the cabin.

            “Bonjour! The cleaning crew has arrived!” Navia yelled gleefully as she lined up a shot with the communications tower attached to the magnificent gleaming white building before them. It was nearly ten stories tall, surrounded by connected guard            towers that made walkways between the smaller offshoot buildings. She pulled the trigger, bracing her feet as the RPG launched itself towards the building and impacted exactly on-target through the windows, where it proceeded to explode, sending glass shards and ethereal and unnatural white stone debris flying.

            Wriothesley smirked, watching as the rooftop grew ever closer below them.

            “See you on the flip side,” he called over his shoulder, falling backwards out of the chopper, bows and lace whipping furiously against the wind as he turned a graceful flip, pulling the cord on his parachute so it deployed with plenty of time. Clorinde, it seemed, was right behind him, followed by Childe and Zhongli, who seemingly tumbled and rolled gracelessly in the air for a moment, as if shoved out of the exit. There was, Wriothesley decided, a high possibility he’d been pushed by Neuvillette, who was the last person to dive out of the helicopter to join them.

            It was a short glide, the chutes more of a precaution than anything else. Wriothesley unclipped within an appropriate distance of the roof, freefalling the remaining couple of feet into a forward roll to absorb the impact. He immediately swung his shotgun around, cocking the firearm and bracing the butt against his left shoulder.

            Pivoting, he scoured the roof for any threats. As predicted, it was empty, the sirens and alarms blaring for the separate tower that had been hit, which wasn’t attached to this main building. Another explosion vibrated the air around them, drawing his eye to the helicopter looping back towards its initial target. He could see Navia’s blonde hair whipping in the wind, the gleam of the RPG’s barrel catching the light of the sun as she took aim again.

            Melus and Silver would keep her safe. If they didn’t, Clorinde would have their heads and his.

            Wriothesley lowered his gun and proceeded at a sprint across the open space, well aware that they were sitting ducks the second they stood still for too long. Their advantage was in the surprise of the assault; as soon as Celestia had enough time to organize, they were outgunned, outnumbered, and at risk of being killed, or worse, detained and tortured.

            Skirts flying in the breeze behind him, he lifted the gun and aimed at the lock on the roof access door. He squeezed the trigger, bracing for the kick as it fired. The lock flew off, obliterated in an explosion of Cryo that nearly took the handle off, too.

            Tucking the gun under his arm, Wriothesley wrenched the door open through the collected ice, sending bits scattering haphazardly across the rooftop. Clorinde, right on his heels, shoved through, Electro pistol drawn and aimed as she checked for enemies on the other side, tailcoat flapping behind her with each quick movement.

            “All clear,” she called into the earpiece, bracing at the top of the stairwell to listen for reinforcements.

            “Stand guard.” Wriothesley slid the shotgun into his back holster, hands slipping underneath skirt layers to grab his twin pistols, cocking both as he held the door open with his foot. “Everyone accounted for off the ’copter?” He surveyed the landscape, the distant wailing of sirens cutting through the breezy afternoon air.

            Zhongli and Childe reached the door next, approaching at a run, bows and lace flying about their stocking clad legs and both faintly winded. Neuvillette followed right behind them, his long skirts swaying in the breeze as he retrieved the grenade launcher from one of the deep pockets. It was a little hilarious, such an ethereal looking man wielding a weapon so bulky; the sight was nearly offensive.

            “Go time, then?” Childe similarly retrieved his machine gun, which he had managed to stash inside his floofy skirt layers, with a gleeful grin.

            “You two, straight down to the basement door. There shouldn’t be any security yet. Subdue any threats; kill if necessary but leave innocent workers out of it. Set the charges and let us know as soon as the countdown begins.” Wriothesley barked the sharp orders, pleased when both maids nodded and proceeded immediately through the doors and down the stairs, their hurried footsteps echoing up the long stone staircase.

            “And us?” Neuvillette entered the stairwell and Wriothesley followed him, closing the door tightly behind them. It plunged the hallway into dim light, struck through by the eerie red glow of emergency exit signs and the occasional bright emergency light. This stairwell was used only for maintenance access and evacuations, and Wriothesley hoped it would stay that way.

            “We take Clorox to the communications floor, she cleans house, and then we make as much noise as we possibly can everywhere else in the building to keep folks away from the basement. If we have time, we set an additional charge.” He grinned, reloading another Cryo round into the shotgun, sliding the forearm forward and back to lock the new round in place, arming it once more.

            Clorinde and Neuvillette shared an affirmative nod, following behind as Wriothesley led them down the stairs at a brisk, skirt-swishing run.

            The door to the control room on the communications floor exploded inwards, debris flying in all directions. As the dust settled, it revealed two silhouettes flanking a crouched figure with long hair secured in a braid. The people in the room screamed, fleeing the scene or diving under desks as security personnel scrambled to get to the entrance.

            “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. We’ve come to clean the facility.” Neuvillette’s voice range loudly across the space as the Hydro expelled from the grenade launcher collected into a thick mist in the air before them. The dragon manipulated it effortlessly, providing a thick cover for their advance.

            Wriothesley yanked the pin out of the Cryo bomb in his hand, tossing it deeper into the room with perfect timing to intercept the advancing line of several guards. He preemptively shielded the butler and maid behind him with his skirts, turning away from the blast himself. The frostbitten energy exploded outwards, reacting with the Hydro in the air to create an imposing crystal of ice in the middle of the room; the unfortunate guards, caught at the epicenter, found themselves trapped within the small glacier. A thick fog enveloped the rest of the room, the elemental reaction going as far as to cause some small bits of snow to drift gently down from above.

            “Now,” Wriothesley ordered, dodging around chunks of ice into the space with his shotgun drawn as Clorinde did the same. She launched herself onto one of the long sturdy desks littered with computer monitors and stacks of papers, and with a graceful twist, tails of her coat waving in the air behind her, she fired once, twice, thrice, lodging an Electro shot into each of the main operating consoles.

            The machines immediately sputtered, purple electricity crackling along them until the screens darkened, shutting off one by one. The lights immediately went out, the sounds of a building powering down echoing from one floor to the next. Emergency lighting was quick to cast the room in a florescent red warning light.

            Wriothesley took advantage of Clorinde’s showy distraction, intentionally gliding across the icy floor, skirts flying up over his thighs to expose stocking and weapon-clad thighs as he slide-tackled the legs out from two other guards, sending them crashing to the ground. “Hello, boys!” he greeted joyfully as they crashed into the tiled floor, twisting to plant his feet, his boots giving him just enough traction to launch himself back at both prone guards. The heel of his hand connected with the first guard’s chin, knocking his head back into the tiling as Wriothesley’s knee landed directly in his diaphragm, knocking any air from the other man’s lungs.

            The second, less fortunate, guard was introduced to Wriothesley’s legs as he rolled forward and over him. The maid trapped the man’s neck between his thighs, locking his ankles together and squeezing to cut off air and blood circulation. Two slaps to his legs were easily dismissed, and Wriothesley held on until the man went limp, face beet-red and partially hidden beneath layers of petticoats.

            “Need a hand?” Neuvillette emerged from the mist, hand extended from above. Wriothesley flipped his bangs out of his face, forearms supporting his weight as he laid facedown on the floor. He glanced behind him, ensuring the guard was out cold, and only then unlocked his ankles and accepted the help to his feet.

            A spray of bullets just over their heads sent them hastily diving for the nearest overturned table. Neuvillette landed spectacularly, chest to chest atop Wriothesley, who caught the other man between his legs, hands braced on his lover’s hips. They blinked at one another, adrenaline pumping along with their hearts.

            “Fancy meeting you like this,” Wriothesley teased with a grin.

            “Indeed. This seems familiar,” Neuvillette chuckled, freezing only as his mate hiked his leg up, drawing a pistol from under his skirt and aiming it over his shoulders.

            “Stay still, love,” Wriothesley murmured, securing the dragon against his chest as he braced his shoulders against the overturned desk behind them. He gripped the pistol with both hands, cradling Neuvillette’s head, and perhaps more critically, his sensitive pointed ears, between his tits and arms as he fired four consecutive shots into the upper thighs and knees of the guards that stomped out from the fog, charging from around the other side of a large machine still crackling with Electro energy.

            “Scrub Daddy, if you’re going to flirt mid-combat, at least do it quietly.” Clorinde’s voice cut through the comms unit in both their ears. Her reprimand was quickly followed by the sound of gunshots that the pair heard both in real time, ricocheting from further inside the maze of cubicles and machinery, and then repeated in a staticky echo across their earpieces.

            “You have time to flirt?!” Childe’s indignant voice chimed in with a crackle, followed by a grunt and the sound of something heavy falling over. “Ajax checking in; basement doorway secured. Mr. Clean is setting charges.”

            “Indeed.” Zhongli’s voice joined the channel noise.  

            “Power appears to be successfully down from outside the building. No anti-aircraft measures able to be activated yet. Fabuloso and team are going sky-high for a minute to avoid detection from Celestia ground units.” Navia’s chipper voice checked in, the choppy sounds of the helicopter’s blades and intense wind mincing the audio.

            “Excellent.” Wriothesley nudged Neuvillette with his knee, waiting for his husband to roll off him before he peeked over the table. Head swiveling around the quieting room, he caught sight of two more guards trying to sneak around their left flank. With a quick hand signal to Neuvillette to cover his eyes, the maid pulled a flashbang from his pocket and lobbed it towards where he’d seen them run.

            The loud sound and bright flash lit up the section of room, the obvious swearing of the guards giving away their exact position. Wriothesley sprang up, vaulting over the overturned table, skirts flying up with him as he stepped onto the seat of a chair, then the desk, launching himself into a jump that landed the sole of his boot directly into the unsuspecting guard’s astonished face. It probably provided a nice glimpse up Wriothesley’s skirt, too, but the man was unable to enjoy it as he crumbled to the ground, providing enough of a springboard for Wriothesley to knee the second guard, still rubbing at his eyes, directly in the nose. He followed that one down to the ground, skirts splaying over the man’s torso; perched there, he brought his pistol around, whipping it into the guard’s skull with a solid thunk that knocked him out.

            “Clorox, I’m taking Tide and heading to the next floor for the diversion. Do you have this handled?”

            “Affirmative, Scrub Daddy.” Clorinde spoke precisely, quietly, and Wriothesley was given the distinct impression of a big cat stalking its prey.

            The housekeeper brushed off his skirts, already finding a tear in the edge as he righted himself and made his way over to where Neuvillette was reloading his grenade launcher.

            “Downward, then?” the poised maid asked, only a few hairs out of place from his long, moonlight braid.

            “We’ll check the stairwell first, then head that way. We’re keeping the heat off Ajax and Mr. Clean until we get the signal from them to evacuate the building.” Wriothesley holstered his pistol, switching back to the shotgun as they headed back out of the hole they’d made where a door once was. The hallway stretched wide before them, dark except for the brilliant red signs directing all persons to the nearest exits.

            It was eerie, the way that it cast everything in a bloody sheen. The building had emptied quickly; all the workers looked to have fled at the first sign of the explosions in the adjacent buildings. Good; Wriothesley didn’t want innocent people caught in the crossfire of Celestia’s war. It was hard to determine how innocent they really were, working for a corrupt government agency, but, well, they certainly weren’t combat-trained, nor had they agreed to put their lives on the line.

            “Do you have the extra charges?” Wriothesley led them to the maintenance stairwell,  pausing only for a second to check for the sound of footsteps or gunshots.

            “I do. Would you like me to set them on the next floor?” Neuvillette followed, also glancing behind them as they descended.

            “Yeah. Let’s find two support pillars. I’ll cover you. As soon as they’re set, we’ll draw attention.” The door to the next floor opened without resistance, the unsettling quiet of the building making Wriothesley’s hair stand on end.

            It wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

            He led them at a quick clip down the hallway, passing by large, extravagant meeting rooms, all gleaming white stone with gold accents. Soon enough, they came upon one of the intricate support columns that ran through the entirety of the building.

            Neuvillette set his grenade launcher down, fishing one of the packs of C4 out from his deep skirt pockets. He quickly affixed it to the pillar, attaching the wires in the order that Ajax had meticulously gone over with both him and Zhongli the night before. It was only five wires, but it took time to carefully place them and to arm the bomb itself. After all, it only took one wrong move, and the bomb would be primed for the wrong time, or worse, would detonate immediately.

            “Set them for seven minutes instead of five, so that they go off either with or after the ones below. We don’t want any premature explosions –” He was interrupted by the sound of a doorway being kicked open somewhere down one of the numerous corridors. They currently stood at an intersection of four hallways, and the sounds of multiple pairs of boots tromping their way down the corridor had Wriothesley mounting the shotgun against his shoulder immediately.

            “Wriothesley –”

            “Keep going. I’ll cover you,” the maid replied curtly, stepping back until he felt the grenade launcher against his foot. He stooped down and grabbed it, taking advantage of his proximity to Neuvillette to lean in to kiss the dragon on the cheek. “I’ll be right back.” With those words, he dashed off down the center hall, ears peeled listening intently. The footsteps were definitely coming from that direction; he needed to head them off to prevent them from picking Neuvillette off from a distance.

            The hallway was a straight shot for several hundred feet before it took a sharp right. Wriothesley approached the corner cautiously, back to the wall as he glanced in one of the meeting room windows, catching sight of the oncoming group of eight or so guards within the reflection. They were all armed, machine guns and tactical gear – all standard issue Celestia equipment –rattling faintly as they hurried down the hallway, . Wriothesley realized they had no idea what was around the corner, their pace a stuttered trot of confusion, not the march of soldiers intent upon a target.

            Perfect.

            Wriothesley angled himself, firing the grenade launcher against the floor so it would bounce down the hallway behind him. There were a series of shouts followed by the loud hissing explosion of Hydro, a cloud of steam expanding forcefully in both directions to fill the hallway. He dropped the weapon to the floor, whipping the Cryo shotgun over his shoulder and into his arms instead. His cheek brushed the side, butt supported by his shoulder as he whipped around the corner and dove into the manufactured cover. His first target stumbled backwards through the mist towards him, and Wriothesley fired instantly. The buckshot-equivalent Cryo round exploded into a mess of ice, reacting with the Hydro in the air to blast the man with a point-blank hailstorm that froze him to the nearest wall.

            “We’re under attack!” someone shouted from within, conveniently alerting Wriothesley to their proximity and position. He slid to the left, crouching low under the barrel of a machine gun that sliced through the fog, springing up to knock the gun upwards with his forearm.

            “Hello there,” the maid purred at the shocked face visible through the soldier’s visor. He whipped the shotgun around, clocking him in the side of the head with the stock. A clever use of the rebound off the helmet allowed Wriothesley to spin the gun around, catching it back against his shoulder to fire nearly point blank at the man’s feet, sending him sprawling to the ground with a scream of pain.

            Keep moving, Wriothesley reminded himself, stepping over the soldier popsicle as he reloaded. It took a half-second to crack the shotgun open, and another two more to retrieve the Cryo rounds from one of his skirt pockets, slotting them into the back before closing and cocking the weapon once more.

             Two more guards stepped into view, guns raised, ready to fire. He beat them to it, sliding along the slick floor on one bent knee to flank them and align both in his sights. The blast sent the first man careening into the second, where their bodies froze into a single mass of tangle limbs and body armor against the wall.

            “You sonuvabitch!” Someone dove for him, hands grasping for the barrel of his shotgun. Wriothesley dropped it entirely, surging upwards with the heel of his hand to knock his assailant’s helmet clean off his head. The man stumbled, hands instinctually closing around the gun he’d grabbed, leaving both of Wriothesley’s free to hit him four times: one punch to the solar plexus, a jab to the throat, an open-palm strike to the left side of his face, and finally, Wriothesley yanked him down by the hair to introduce the guard’s stomach to the sharp angle of his black-fabric-covered knee.

            As the soldier grunted, slumping to the ground. Wriothesley plucked his gun from the man’s hands, cracking him across the back of the head with it before flipping the weapon around his hand to grasp it properly against his shoulder once more, staring down the sight line of the barrel.

            He shot the guard rapidly approaching his right flank, ice crystals flying through the air and chilling his lungs with the sudden drop in temperature, then pivoted on his heels, skirts swishing about, and fired two more times down the hallway. They were targetless shots into the thick fog, but he was pleased to hear screams regardless.

            In the ensuing near-silence, the maid took the opportunity to reload all four shots, keeping his eyes on the hallway and his ears open. There were whispers in the distance, impossible to distinguish over the crackling of ice in the hallway and the obvious shifting of feet. The entire floor had become treacherous with slippery ice, and he tread carefully as he ducked behind one of the frozen bodies to obscure any lines of sight.

            “Come now, we’re not afraid, are we? One housekeeper against how many military-trained personnel?” He threw the taunt into the open air, daring them to make the first move.

            “You’re no maid,” a voice called back, sounding far more agitated than a trained professional should in the line of duty. Interesting. Perhaps the hit to their egos was doing more than he’d thought it might.

            The maid hiked his skirt up, fingers sliding along his outer thigh until he met the rounded shape of the Cryo grenade holstered there. There was still enough Hydro in the air; he could get them all at once, as long as he could pinpoint how far back they were.

            The shuffle and crunch of shoes over ice caught his attention, closer than it had any right to be. The bastards were trying to sneak up on him.

            Well, in that case.

            Wriothesley shoved the grenade back into its attachment, locking the safety on the shotgun as he stored it on his back. He cocked each pistol as he retrieved them from the holsters on his upper thighs, flashing the hallway with more than just his leg as he did so. His dress, he noticed with some resignation, was starting to see some wear and tear, the hem fraying in places, and others damp with Hydro or stiff with Cryo.

            Nothing much to do about that, he supposed. Besides, it was about to get wrecked.

            Unwilling to give up the element of surprise to the opponent, he sprinted around the corner, twisting on his boot to dive onto the slippery floor, hitting it back-first with a grunt. The momentum propelled him directly into the mist, right past the group attempting to advance. He fired on them from behind, taking all three out as he slipped further away. He felt the chill of the ice harsh against his back, the scrape of the shotgun loud next to his ear; the fabric of his skirt began to tear in some places at the rough maneuver.

            The combat maid slid near to the end of the hallway; when he finally stopped, he found himself looking up between the legs of a guard. The soldier froze where he stood, straddled over the maid’s face.

            A moment passed while they stared at one another, both surprised by the predicament. Wriothesley clocked the way the other man’s gaze raked over his body, taking in the heart-shaped window cut into the front of his uniform, the way one sleeve dipped provocatively off his shoulder, and, of course, how the skirt fabric and lace had ridden up around his legs, showing off stockings, garters, and weaponry to spare. The sweat beading tantalizingly upon his skin could only serve to make the poor guard’s brain short circuit all the quicker.

            “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Wriothesley taunted, crossing his arms to press the barrels of both pistols against the inside of each knee. He winked coyly, pecs squeezed together as he waited for realization to settle, before pulling both triggers.

            Blood splattered the sides of his face, the guard screaming and crumpling backwards onto the floor.

            With what felt like a herculean effort, Wriothesley kicked both legs up, spine protesting as he rolled backwards over his left shoulder to his knees, accidentally giving the whimpering guard behind him a view of his entire panty-clad ass and garter-and-stocking strapped thighs as his skirts flipped up over his back obscenely. He rocked onto his feet with a flick of the hem, righting the fabric so what wasn’t torn could settle back demurely around his legs.

            Wriothesley glanced over his shoulder at the man cradling his kneecaps in the fetal position, who stared back up at him in confused agony. “Wow, you might have the best seat in the house,” he cooed as he turned, pressing the toe of his boot under the whimpering guard’s chin to force him to look up. “You tell Celestia to stay the fuck out of my house. You hear me?” He pressed harder on the man’s chest with his heel, until his prey’s breathing became shallow under the threat of such a heavy boot. It would have been better with the needle-point of a stiletto, but, ah, well, safety first. “I’m letting you live, but you better pass on my message. They stay the fuck away from my house and my family, and I’ll stop humiliating their soldiers. Understood?” He slid his foot higher, pressing on the guard’s windpipe. The solider nodded frantically, throat bobbing as he swallowed and squirmed uselessly on the formerly-white flooring, now smeared with bright red blood. “Good boy.” Wriothesley smiled, before he stepped to the side, the inner edge of his other boot colliding with the man’s head to knock him out cold.

            The hallway was awash with groaning bodies in various states of unconscious or frozen. The mist had settled low to the floor, making it easy for the maid to make his way back to the other end.  He reloaded both pistols as he went, scooping up the grenade launcher from where he’d left it around the corner.

            “Scrub Daddy?” Neuvillette called from further down, and it took Wriothesley longer than he’d ever admit to remember that was his codename.

            “Yes, love of my life?” he called back, walking briskly back to the dragon’s side.

            “You look pleased with yourself. Are you harmed? I heard numerous gunshots.” Neuvillette was replacing the panel on the second of two explosives, the last step in the sequence.

            Perfect timing, as usual.

            “I'm fine – although I regret to inform you that one of the guards got a bit of an eyeful before I knocked him out.” Wriothesley feigned a frown as he approached, even going as far as to sigh loudly. “It’s not nearly as fun when you’re not there to watch,” he complained, sidling up to the dragon, pistols clasped loosely in hand with the safeties on.

            Neuvillette’s nostrils flared, the only sign that Wriothesley words had gotten to him even slightly.

            “Is that so. Have you been showing off? You do know this is an extremely serious operation, yes?” Neuvillette slipped his tools back into his pocket, taking the grenade launcher from Wriothesley when it was handed over.

            “Of course I do. It’s just a habit at this point.” The housekeeper chuckled as he looked over the explosive, armed and counting down slowly.

            “Habit?” Neuvillette’s tone pitched with disbelief, and in a moment, Wriothesley found his back pressed to the white marble pillar, his husband pinning him with a hand planted firmly in the middle of his chest. “I do wish you wouldn’t make a habit of showing off your assets to other individuals…. especially Celestia’s operatives.” A hint of a growl laced Neuvillette’s words, sending shivers down Wriothesley’s spine.

            The maid stroked his fingers over the back of the hand planted firmly over his sternum, blue eyes twinkling with mischief as he realized he’d managed to get under the dragon’s skin. “Are you jealous, monsieur?” Wriothesley asked, breathless with the possibility, admiring the desire and possessiveness swimming in those lilac eyes

            “I am,” Neuvillette admitted, leaning forward to close the distance between their mouths. Wriothesley’s pulse spiked, hands held aloft to either side, forced to clutch the loaded pistols he wielded tightly, instead of burying his fingers into the Sovereigns hair as he would have liked.

            Their lips crashed together, the salty tang of sweat flavoring their kiss as Neuvillette’s tongue eagerly accepted the parting of Wriothesley’s lips as the invitation it was. The maid moaned softly as that forked appendage licked the roof of his mouth, Neuvillette going out of his way to dominate the kiss and take whatever reassurances he desired from his husband.       When finally, he pulled away, Wriothesley was nearly dizzy with lack of oxygen, reeling from the all-encompassing kiss that had narrowed his focus to just the two of them.

            “Holy shit,” the maid gasped, blinking at his lover, who seemed plenty pleased with himself. Neuvillette opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the intercoms in their ears crackling to life.

            The sound of gunshots and something heavy and metal crashing into something else cooled the inferno of lust raging between the two maids like a bucket of ice water. “This is Ajax; we ran into a bit of a problem.”

            “Talk to me,” Wriothesley spoke into his earpiece, not moving from where Neuvillette had elected to press their bodies together. It was nice, a small, intimate embrace amidst what sounded like a bunch of incoming chaos.

            “Guards showed up from an adjacent building; I distracted them and drew them up to the first floor and away from Mr. Clean. He finished placing all of the charges, but he had to set the timer differently than originally proposed.” The banging sounds grew further away, and Wriothesley quickly realized that Childe was sprint down a hallway.

            “How much time do we have to get to the roof?” Neuvillette chimed in, already releasing Wriothesley’s hips as he made sure their equipment was stored.

            “Three minutes,” Zhongli answered, footsteps echoing over the earpiece. He must have been in the stairwell.

            “On it. I can be out in two,” Clorinde checked in, her side of things oddly quiet until the sound of her heels tapping against marble floors joined the cacophony of sprinting individuals.

            “Tide and Scrub Daddy are right behind you. Ajax, I’ll meet you on the first floor to get them off your tail. Once you get to the stairs, immediately head to the roof.” Wriothesley nodded to Neuvillette; the two of them wasting no time in charging towards the stairwell door.

            “We are getting into position for extraction!” Navia chirped, wind briefly whipping across every channel. “See you all soon.”

            “Everyone move, and move fast. Your only goal is to get to the roof and get back on that ‘copter.” Wriothesley barked the command, throwing open the stairwell door. He turned to head downwards, stopping only when his wrist was caught in an unyielding grip.

            “Wriothesley –” Neuvillette’s voice turned stern with worry, a sound that might have cowed any man not worth his salt.

            “I’m not leaving Ajax. We’ll both be up right behind you. Get to the roof, Neu– Tide. Now.” He paused, then added, in a quieter voice, “Don’t make me worry about you while I’m pulling him out of there.”

            “Promise me you’ll be safe,” Neuvillette’s fingers didn’t budge, pulling the maid back into his side and forcing him to make eye contact. Wriothesley didn’t blink, unflinchingly meeting those lilac irises tinted with concern.

            “I will. Ajax and I will be on the roof in two and a half minutes, but only if you let go of me now.” He cocked his pistols, and, with a last, lingering look, Neuvillette released him. Wriothesley wasted no time, turning in a flurry of skirts and ribbons to sprint down the stairs to the first floor.

            “Clorox. Keep me appraised of the countdown by the minute and then by the last sixty seconds,” Wriothesley muttered tersely, preemptively grabbing the Cryo grenade he’d contemplated earlier, shoving it between his teeth to keep his hands free.

            He kicked the doors in, turning left towards the sounds of gunshots. It wasn’t difficult to find Ajax, his short, floofy skirt and bright orange hair making him an easy target. Wriothesley was briefly filled with pride as he watched the kid take out two guards with a roundhouse kick, the third going down to a spray of bullets from the machine gun tucked comfortably into Childe’s right arm.

            Wriothesley dashed towards his ally, yanking the grenade from his mouth; the pin flew free as he lobbed it overhead. “Ajax, duck!” he shouted; the ginger turned and dove towards him on the ground just in time as the grenade exploded in a bright burst of Cryo that coated the entire hallway. The screams of several guards rang out around them, even muffled as they were through layers of ice. Just to be safe, Wriothesley laid down cover fire, each pistol banging in quick succession, preventing anyone from chasing after Childe as the arms dealer sprinted in a rapid half crouch towards him.

            “Two minutes,” Clorinde’s methodical voice said in his ear. Wriothesley could just make out the sound of the chopper in the background, along with the discordant distant wail of sirens. Good. She was on the roof.

            Wriothesley pulled Childe towards him, dragging the younger man with him behind a marble pillar just as a torrent of bullets rained down the hallway, marking the polished floors and ceiling with blackened holes.

            “Holy tits am I glad to see you!” Childe exclaimed between heavy breaths.

            “We can celebrate later. Get to the stairs.” Wriothesley swapped for his shotgun, re-holstering his pistols under his skirt. “Now!”

            He didn’t wait to see if Ajax had listened, pulling out a flashbang that he yanked the pin out of and chucked unceremoniously down the hallway. The two maids covered their eyes and ears until the bright light and harsh sound passed.

            As soon as visibility improved, Wriothesley shoved Childe towards the stairs; he pivoted around the pillar, cocking the shotgun before firing once, hitting a guard in the chest and sending him flying backwards in a flurry of ice. He fired again, freezing a man to the pillar he was peeking out from behind. Each controlled, steady step carried the maid across the room at a backwards diagonal towards the staircase, until he reached the safety of the next imposing column and ducked behind it to reload, frostbitten empty shells clattering to the ground with a musicality that reminded him of times long since passed.

            Behind him, the stairwell door opened and slammed shut, signaling Childe’s successful escape.

            Time to go.

            Two minutes was not  enough time to get to the roof. There were at least six flights of stairs, more guards, and sovereigns’ forbid if he accidentally took a stray bullet trying to get the stairwell–

            He cut his doomed thought train off.

            Wriothesley thought of Neuvillette, as he took a single deep breath, steadying his nerves, his hands, and the rampant beating of his heart.

            He had to get to the roof.

            He had, after all, made a promise, one he was going to keep no matter what.

            Thoughts of afternoons on the ballroom balcony rose to the forefront of his mind, sharing a pot of tea, laughing at the stories Neuvillette would share from times gone by. He thought of long, hot showers wrapped in a cool embrace, plied with sweet kisses and even sweeter words.

            Wriothesley thought about their first night together, how nervous he’d been about sharing who he was, hidden under layers of protective clothing. How it hadn’t even phased Neuvillette, his enthusiastic and loving caresses dwarfed only by the overwhelmingly passionate words hurled in Wriothesley’s direction while he was laid bare and vulnerable beneath the dragon.

            “One minute, Wriothesley.” Clorinde’s voice broke into his reprieve, and his eyes flew open.

            He would not waste this life.

            “Understood.”

            Wriothesley turned and ran for the stairwell. He anticipated the bullets whizzing his way, twisting to fire off two shots, nothing more than cover fire meant to scare and distract. It worked, the large blasts of ice from the shotgun sending agents scattering for cover.

           He sprinted for the double door, lungs and leg muscles burning as he threw it open, slamming it shut again the second he was through. As   much as it pained him to lose the weapon, he shoved the shotgun through both handles, jamming it into position to keep the exit shut tight.

            “Fifty seconds.”

            With skirts hiked in his hands, he ran like the Abyss was behind him, skipping every other step until his quads screamed in protest. Six motherfucking flights of stairs – his legs were going to murder him tomorrow.

            “Forty-five seconds.”

            Wriothesley pushed harder, feeling the all-too-palpable presence of death nipping at his heels like a ferocious three-headed dog, waiting for him to stumble so it could sink its teeth in and drag him down to his grave. Adrenaline sang through every atom of his body in contrary response, survival trumping all other instincts; the scratches and bruises stopped hurting, and the burn of straining muscles faded to the background.

            “Ajax secured,” Zhongli’s voice cut in, followed by Clorinde’s.

            “Thirty seconds.” He could hear the slight edge to her voice, the veneer of detached professionalism cracking with every moment that ticked by.

            Fourth floor, halfway to the fifth. Wriothesley continued to climb, calculating timing and trajectories in his head with every step. His lungs burned; he could feel the sweat dripping down the side of his face and the middle of his back. The marker for the fifth floor passed by in a blur and then, up ahead, he could see the still-ajar roof access door.

            “Fifteen seconds. Wriothesley, hurry up.”

            “Move the chopper,” he gasped into the mic, “end of the building – near the air-con unit. I’m going to have to jump –” Wriothesley flew through the unobstructed doorway, skirts flying behind him as he unceremoniously dropped them from his grasp. He pumped his arms as he lengthened his stride to its maximum, each footfall powered by every muscle in his body. The synthetic rubber that made up the roof provided just enough traction to send him sprinting at top speeds – but still, the rooftop stretched out like a runway before him. In the distance, he could see the helicopter, a ladder hanging from the open bay door.

Navia sat in the pilot’s seat, and he watched as she pivoted their position, following his instructions at a pace most would deem reckless and haphazard. The building behind them was smoking fiercely, providing an excellent blanket of cover for the chopper.

            “Someone is going to have to catch me –” he started to say, and then he was interrupted as the entire building shook below him.

            Wriothesley stumbled, sent careening forwards, horribly off-balance and crashed to the ground, tucking into a forward roll. Decades of rigorous training was the only thing that prevented him from faceplanting and becoming dead weight – with emphasis on the dead.

            “Five, four, three, two, one –”

They all felt it, the rumblings of six separate C4 packs going off at once. Wriothesley did his best to keep his momentum, scrambling to his feet, scraping his left knee harshly against the roofing as he did and tearing a sizeable hole in the stockings as he stumbled back upright. He made it three more steps before the roof below him quaked again; this time, he lost his footing altogether, barely catching himself with his hands.

            Wriothesley found himself stuck, reduced to a standstill as the world trembled and threatened to fall out from under him.

            No! No, no, no, no – he was so damn close!

            Fuck!

            “Wriothesley!”

            Neuvillette’s voice cut through the wind, and the combat maid looked up, dragging himself back to his feet despite the unsteady terrain and his equally jelly-like legs. His mate clung to the ladder draped precariously from the chopper door, leaning out as far as he could given the safety harness around his waist, his hand extended beseechingly towards Wriothesley.

            That beautiful bastard of a dragon.

            Wriothesley broke back into an awkward approximation of a dead sprint; the building began to feel more like sand beneath his feet as it crumbled from the basement upwards. He pushed through the terrible sensation, each stumble replaced by a new step forward as the ground began to crack and disappear behind him. He couldn’t focus on what fate lay below him; no, he remained locked in on the sight of Neuvillette just sixty or so feet away. His gaze didn’t waver for a moment, boots flying over trembling and uneven ground, his destination solidified in his mind and heart. Even as cracks splintered the path ahead, sending large pieces of white stone up at unnatural angles all around him, he didn’t dare look away from his goal.

            He vaulted off one such fractured fragment, landing unceremoniously onto the air conditioning unit. With a quick roll to his feet, Wriothesley dashed across the scant remaining space and launched himself as hard as he possibly could off the edge of the building towards the chopper.

            Towards Neuvillette.

            Time slowed as Wriothesley sailed through the air, Celestia’s imploding headquarters falling away behind him, collapsing in on itself and turning to dust with one final mighty roar. He heard it all, felt the displaced air, the pressure as such a large structure flattened to the ground. His feet kicked through the nothingness that surrounded him, as if that might propel him those last couple of meters towards his mate’s outstretched hand.

            Dread and realization teamed up to settle like a lead weight in his gut as he calculated his speed, trajectory, and angle and came up short.

            He was going to miss the target, a few inches of free air left between his fingers and Neuvillette’s. He could foresee it, felt the fear make itself at home in his bones –

            Neuvillette dropped, hooking his knees and feet into the rope ladder, bending backwards to hang upside-down. Wriothesley couldn’t believe his eyes as he all but collided with the dragon Sovereign. Strong arms latched onto his, claws digging in to ensure their grip as the ladder swung precariously, looking more like a trapeze performer’s swing than it had any right to. Wriothesley scrambled to orient himself, his own hands flailing until they found purchase of their own, gripping Neuvillette’s elbows in turn, locking them together. Naturally, his shoulders protested the mistreatment, but it didn’t matter, because he was being held, he’d been caught, and that was all that mattered as they hovered Abyss-only-knew how far above the ground.

            Wriothesley’s fingernails dug into the fabric of Neuvillette’s long sleeves, desperation and awe painting his face as he finally looked up, only to see Neuvillette smiling, cheeks tracked with relieved tears as the dragon stared back down at him.

            It was the most gorgeous sight Wriothesley had ever seen.

            “I’ve got you, beloved,” Neuvillette murmured, his voice drowned out by the impossibly loud cacophony around them but his lips perfectly readable. Their eyes locked, sharing countless what-ifs and the relief that they didn’t have to wonder anymore.

            “We’ve got him, Navia. Get us out of here.” Clorinde’s voice could just barely be heard above the noise.  “Zhongli, help pull them up.”

            Neuvillette, in a show of impossible strength, deadlifted Wriothesley’s weight, heaving him upwards until the human could grasp the very end rung of the ladder. With a pained grunt, the maid hoisted himself along, briefly drowning Neuvillette in the many layers of his skirts until he got a decent foothold and was able to climb the rest of the way into the helicopter.

            By the time they both made it inside, the bay door slamming closed behind them, the obliterated remains of Celestia’s headquarters was well behind them.

            “Release the papers!” Navia shouted from the cockpit, a manic glee in her eye as she pointed to Melus and Silver in the passenger seats. They pulled a lever in tandem, and from his place on the floor of the helicopter, attempting to catch his breath, Wriothesley watched as thousands of pamphlets fluttered through the air, falling like damning leaves to the streets below. Each one contained a myriad of evidence gathered to leverage against Celestia, exposing their crimes against the people of Teyvat as a whole – not only Fontaine and Liyue – and the lies they’d been propagating for centuries.

            “Do you think people will read them?” Childe asked, leaning against the wall of the chopper as he stared out at the scene below.

            “Some will, some won’t, but regardless, it sends a message – and it will make Celestia’s life a nightmare for the foreseeable future. Change is slow to take root, and this is merely a wakeup call.” Zhongli settled next to the arms dealer, taking his hand with a reassuring squeeze.

            “I don’t care either way, as long as they leave my damn house alone,” Wriothesley muttered from the floor. Beside him, sitting near his head, Neuvillette laughed, reaching over to drag the combat maid closer so that his head could rest in his husband’s lap.

            “I believe, for the time being, our estate will be safe and secure. It will take them a long while to recover from the insult of a team of six taking down their entire center of operation.” The dragon grinned down at him, petting a single finger over one of the scars that ran the length of Wriothesley’s throat.

            “Anyone else hungry?” Navia called from the cockpit. Her question was met with a bevy of enthusiastic, if exhausted, agreement from every single maid and butler.

            Wriothesley laughed, listening to the dulcet sounds of Childe and Clorinde arguing about which local spot to order from. He let his eyes drift closed, a smile forming on his face without his consent.

            “You seem happy.” Neuvillette leaned down, speaking only to Wriothesley amidst the chaos. The maid blinked his eyes open to peer at his mate, his grin only growing wider.

            “I am happy. No one got seriously hurt, and everyone gets to go home.”

            “You did it,” Neuvillette agreed, leaning down further to brush their noses together sweetly.

            “We did it,” Wriothesley corrected, basking in the warm feeling of success.

            This was worth protecting. This life was a gift, and there was nothing that could keep him from it. More than anything, he wanted afternoons in the backyard, dinners with friends, or just the two of them, and mornings spent lazily in bed trading kisses and laughter. Wriothesley looked up at Neuvillette, his grin so bright it felt like a source of light in the cramped helicopter.

            “No one, not even Celestia, will ever part me from you,” he whispered against Neuvillette’s lips, dragging his mate down into a devastating kiss. As awkward as it was, what with it being upside down and all, Wriothesley couldn’t find it within himself to give a shit. And he sure as fuck didn’t even care as Clorinde wolf-whistled and Ajax made booing noises from the other side of the vehicle.

            “I think it’s sweet; he did almost die, after all,” cooed Navia from the cockpit.

            “Nah. Not even close,” Wriothesley whispered, his gaze focused entirely on Neuvillette and no one else. “Takes more than a collapsing building to keep me from you.” The smiles shared between them were contagious, spreading quickly to their comrades.

            Yeah, Wriothesley thought, settling in for the ride back contentedly. This, right here?

            This was his joy.

            The ballroom balcony on Neuvillette’s estate was downright lively, despite the horrifically bedraggled state of its occupants. As they settled back in, adrenaline long since worn off, all the scrapes and aches from such an intense operation made themselves well known and demanded attention. Despite that, laughter flowed as freely as the multiple pots of tea poured into porcelain cups, now scattered between hands and tabletops. Each maid and butler were smudged with gunpower, dirt, blood, and sweat, from their shoes to their foreheads, yet they sipped their earl grey with good cheer, snacking on perfectly sweet, colorful macarons and decadent layered cakes to match.

            Wriothesley poured himself a third cup of tea, reclining in one of the cushioned outdoor seats, right leg crossed over the left under his slightly torn skirt as he watched the sun begin its slow descent over the tree line in the distance.

            “May I sit next to you?” Neuvillette’s voice graced his ears, pulling Wriothesley’s gaze up as he tipped his head back.

            “Of course, monsieur. The master of the house may have any seat he desires, including my lap, if he so wishes.” Wriothesley grinned, shark-like and full of promise as he patted the ample thighs hidden beneath slightly singed fabric.

            “As tempting as your offer is, I happen to know that you are bluffing. You were the first to sit down when we got home, and haven’t left that chair in all this time.” Instead, Neuvillette pulled a nearby chair closer and settled into it.

            Wriothesley’s grimace said it all, not even his sip of tea hiding the truth of his mate’s words. “Well, you see, taking six flights of stairs in thirty seconds while carrying equipment will fuck a man up, and not in the fun way.”

            “I imagine so. Perhaps if there is time later, I’ll give you a full body massage,” Neuvillette offered over the rim of his own delicate cup of spring water.

            It was apparent, by the immediate way Wriothesley perked up, that the offer more than caught the maid’s attention. His smile turned sultry as he leaned back in his chair, stretching out the entire length of his body, despite tired muscles, to show off his form just a little. “Is that a reward I hear being offered, for all my hard work?” he teased with a wink.

            “It is. You’ve done well.” Neuvillette joined him in staring out at the sunset, appearing completely at peace, even with the minor scratch on his cheek. His gaze fell upon the gardener’s cabin that sat on the other side of the expansive estate grounds, and Wriothesley found his own eyes wandering in that direction. The minuscule building, no more than two rooms and an outdoor shower, sat mostly unchanged from when they first arrived here decades ago – though, of course, Wriothesley still went out there at times, updating and restoring small portions of the cabin when he felt nostalgic and had time. Now, the structure boasted new paint; the windows had also been repaired, and the weeds in front tamed to something neat and picturesque.

            “Even from day one, you’ve excelled at making this place a home, welcoming to all who come with good intentions,” Neuvillette mused aloud, leaning over enough that their shoulders could touch. The lace on the dragon’s uniform tickled Wriothesley’s neck as it waved faintly in the breeze.

            “I’d like to keep doing that.” Wriothesley’s blue eyes didn’t stray from the cabin, recalling hours spent mulling over estate blueprints on the butcher’s block table, late nights with glasses of wine and glancing touches, lingering looks so charged that even thinking of them now warmed his cheeks. “Have you ever considered, now that Celestia hopefully isn’t a looming threat, that we could…” The maid trailed off, cheeks growing even darker as he clammed up, picturing tiny hands picking flowers in the garden.

            “Beloved? What is it?” Neuvillette turned to face him, leaning closer to lower his voice. Behind them, at the other tables, Childe had produced a deck of cards and a bottle of vodka from somewhere upon his person. Tea forgotten, drinks were poured as cards were passed out amongst the celebrants. “You can tell me anything; you know this.”

            “I know,” Wriothesley exhaled heavily, setting his teacup down so he could turn to face Neuvillette a fraction more. His hands hovered, as if they, too, were waiting for their cue to help make a case for the nonsense idea he’d been struck with out of the blue. “It’s more that this is an absurd time to be bringing this up.”

            “No such thing; we’re having a conversation, and things are on your mind. I far prefer this timing to your usual two-in-the-morning inane inquiries.” The dragon looked entirely serious as he said that, yet it pulled a sputtering laugh from his maid anyway.

            “Right. Well, in the effort of avoiding that,” he bit his lip, gaze sliding shyly to the side. “I was thinking... This estate is pretty big. It’s got a lot of space for kids to run around.” Neuvillette’s eyes widened a fraction and Wriothesley plowed on ahead before he lost steam entirely. “Not saying we should have children; I don’t want to have biological children. I can’t, anyway, so that’s fully off the table, but there are plenty of kids out there who don’t have a home, let alone one as grand as this. And, since this used to be an orphanage before it was, well, this –” he gestured around them, lips already parting to continue to spill a torrent of rambling words in the effort of making his case not seem like a bout of post-combat insanity.

            A pair of lips pressing against his own silenced him immediately.

            “I like the way you think, beloved,” Neuvillette murmured against his slack mouth, pulling away to meet his gaze seriously. “What a wonderful idea.”

            Wriothesley couldn’t breathe.

            “Really?” he asked, astounded that Neuvillette was so completely on board. “That’s a lot of responsibility and certainly a big change to our day-to-day lives –”

            He was rambling again.

            “Those are matters we can discuss and details we can iron out over time. We’ll start small. You’re entirely correct that we have the space and the funds, and as long as we keep a close eye on the situation with Celestia, we can ensure the safety of more than just a few children. I think it’s a wonderfully thoughtful idea, and one well worth considering.”

            “Hey, lovebirds! What are you talking about over there? Do you want to play? We’re setting up a game of Spades,” Navia called cheerily over to them, waving to get their attention. She had a spark to her gaze that spoke to the bloodbath about to take place.

            “I’ll be right there,” Wriothesley called, glanced from Navia back to Neuvillette with a slightly sheepish expression. Oh, how he enjoyed a good manipulation-based card game.

            “We’ll talk about this more later?” he asked his husband, brimming with excitement like an overeager puppy.

            “Of course, Wriothesley. As long as it is not at two in the morning,” Neuvillette chuckled.

            “So, one in the morning is cool?”

            “Wriothesley –”

            “Deal me in, Childe!” Wriothesley called, struggling to his feet on sore legs, all swishing skirts and swaying hips on his way over to the other table, dancing just out of his husbands reach in the nick of time.

            Neuvillette rolled his eyes with a fond snort, swirling his water in his cup once, twice, as he shifted his chair to watch the game unfold. He wasn’t one for card games, but he did love to watch Wriothesley play; it was a perfect opportunity to admire that that calculating mind of his at work.

            As laughter permeated the air, Neuvillette accidentally made eye contact with Zhongli across the way.  What he found there was not malice or contempt or even judgement, but instead an approving and genuine smile, one that held wisdom beyond even Neuvillette’s years. In that single moment, the Sovereign dragon let some part of an ancient grudge go, and with the faintest twitch of his lips, he returned the smile with a small one of his own.

            Perhaps, things could mend; improvements could be made, and new life could be erected upon a foundation once burned to a crisp. He would see to it that life flourished on his estate in the careful and loving hands of his husband and their more-than-capable friends.

            The master of the estate looked upon his hoard with deep appreciation and a love that time could never hope to diminish or erase.

            “Ace of spades, get fucked, Childe.” Wriothesley’s voice rose in volume as he slapped down the last card in his hand with a devilish and victorious smirk.

            “HOW DARE YOU! That was my highest spade!” The ginger lunged across the table and all hell broke loose.

            Ah, yes – that was indeed his mate, instigating conflict for fun yet again. Neuvillette hid a smile behind his cup.

            He wouldn’t have had it any other way.