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.