Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Neuvillette leans forward over the coffee table, delicately picking up the blue macaron with his long, slender fingers. His knuckles graze the small, round pastry as he squeezes it ever so slightly.

"The texture is quite fine indeed," he remarks.

His lips part, brushing softly against the fragile treat, his eyes fixed on its delicate surface. She quietly watches as he takes a bite, savoring the flavors with deliberate care, while she sips her tea in silence. His fang flashes as he devours the macaron in one swift motion, cream smearing messily against his lips.

She quickly averts her gaze. How inappropriate! she scolds herself. I shouldn’t be looking at my ex-colleague this way.

"Well, yes! Thank you for the gift," she blurts out, desperate to redirect her thoughts. Though her futile attempts to change the subject are clumsy. "What brings you here?"

He raises an eyebrow, the faintest hint of amusement in his expression. "Can’t I visit a friend? Besides, it’s been far too long since I last saw you." His teasing tone is unmistakable. He sips his tea, his gaze lingering on her face, as if he’s drinking in more than just the beverage. His eyes trace her features, pausing briefly to take in her pout.

Flustered, she protests, "Who said I was your friend?"

His chuckle fills the room, warm and resonant, sending ripples through the atmosphere. She huffs and snatches the teacup from his hand. "Keep it professional, Chief Justice," she declares dramatically, striding into the kitchen to refill the cups.

The living room is inviting, adorned with beautiful paintings and theater posters. A cozy fireplace casts a warm glow over the room, which features two imposing armchairs and a plush sofa. When she returns with the teacups, Neuvillette watches her with an air of playful expectation.

"And here I thought," he says with an exaggerated sigh, stirring his tea, "that after 500 years side by side, you’d consider us friends. What a shame."

She narrows her eyes. "You’re as much a friend to me as my other subjects," she counters in her characteristic haughty tone.

"Others?" The word echoes in his mind, a flicker of jealousy slicing through him. He leans back into the armchair, crossing his legs with a measured grace. His eyes narrow, though a playful gleam lingers in their draconic depths.

"I see how it is, Lady Furina," he drawls, elongating her title with deliberate flair. He rarely addresses her this way anymore; her days as the God of Justice, Archon of Fontaine, and Hydro are long behind her. Even today, it amuses him to savor the sound of her name on his tongue.

Furina reclines on the sofa, her chin held high in mock defiance, though the faint blush on her cheeks betrays her. She taps her teaspoon against her porcelain cup, feigning indifference under the weight of his gaze.

"I don’t see why you insist on dragging the past into every conversation," she says, her voice striving for nonchalance but faltering slightly when he shifts closer. "It’s unbecoming of someone with your stature."

"Unbecoming?" he repeats, a subtle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "How cruel, Lady Furina. After everything we’ve shared, would you reduce me to a relic of your bygone responsibilities?"

She huffs, her composure cracking. "You’re twisting my words, as usual."

"Am I?" His voice is low, velvet-smooth, making the room feel smaller, warmer. He leans closer, one hand resting on the arm of her sofa. "Or perhaps you’re avoiding the truth."

"The truth?" she parrots, her voice rising defensively. She crosses her arms and glares at him. "And what truth might that be, Chief Justice?"

"That you don’t truly mind my company," he replies, his eyes softening. "And perhaps... you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you."

Her breath catches, her defiance faltering for a heartbeat. "You’re insufferable," she mutters, turning her face away, yet she doesn’t pull back. The air between them grows heavier, charged with an undeniable tension.

"Perhaps," he admits, his voice gentler now, tinged with sincerity. "But only because you let me be."

Before she can retort, he takes away the cup that she has desperately been grasping onto. The tender gesture catches her off guard, shattering her resolve. She looks up at him, her wide, indignant eyes meeting his calm, unyielding gaze. The world outside seems to fade, leaving only the two of them.

"I told you not to overstep," she whispers, though her tone lacks its usual sharpness.

"And yet, you didn’t stop me," he murmurs, their faces mere inches apart.

Furina’s heart thundered within her chest, a tempest of emotions threatening to break free from the fragile cage of her pride. For centuries, she had buried her yearning beneath layers of regal poise and untouchable hauteur, yet here it was raw, insistent, and uncontainable. Across from her, Neuvillette stood as steady as the shore, his patience as vast and unyielding as the tides. And yet, in the depths of his eyes, a glimmer of hope danced—a flickering flame daring to burn brighter.

When she finally moved, the air seemed to still, heavy with the gravity of her decision. Her lips met his, a fleeting caress of hesitation and resolve before the floodgates burst. The kiss grew, consuming them both like waves crashing into an endless sea, a tidal surge born from years of repressed desire and unspoken confessions. Furina’s hands trembled as they gripped his collar, her desperation was as palpable as the salty tang of an ocean breeze. She pulled him closer, her need echoing through every hurried breath and every trembling motion, as though the act of letting go would shatter her entirely.

Neuvillette responded not with caution but with the depth of a storm-laden sea, his composure unraveling in the swell of their shared passion. His hands found her waist, anchoring her to him, grounding himself in the tumultuous currents of this moment. Every barrier they had erected dissolved, their union as deep and infinite as the ocean’s abyss, where no light dared to reach but where life thrived in its own haunting beauty. As the kiss deepened, it became more than an act—it was a surrender, a confluence of their long-hidden truths and unyielding devotion, a maelstrom of love that promised to drown them both and yet leave them freer than they had ever been.

Chapter Text

The soft murmur came out of her mouth as he nibbled on her neck, his sharp fangs grazing carefully so as not to ruin her delicate skin. He hovers over her, putting his knee on the seat of the armchair between her thighs. Her fingers curled against Neuvillette’s shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his coat as if it were the only thing grounding her to the moment. His movements were slow, as though delighting in every shiver that rippled through her form. 

The candlelight flickered, casting elongated shadows along the walls, their figures melting into one. His lips, colder than she expected, traced an unseen path down the column of her throat, lingering where her pulse beat the strongest. A quiet gasp escaped her, lost to the stillness of the chamber. Every movement, every brush of his breath, was measured with precision, a torment. Furina tilted her head, exposing more of her alabaster skin to him, an unconscious invitation she would never voice aloud. She could feel the ghost of his canines against her throat, their presence sending a shudder deep into her bones. He did not bite, merely lingered, testing her patience, relishing in the way she quivered beneath him. She was trapped between impatience and anticipation, she wished for this moment to last forever yet at the same time she wanted to consume the pelagic creature in front of her, leaving no leftovers for anybody else. 

“Don’t stop,” she breathes out loudly, wincingly closing her eyes as she remembers the times she thought of her ex-colleague in compromising situations, worst of all she remembers all the times she pretended not to feel possessive of her iudex when he spent his time with anyone other than herself and solitude. 

The memory clung to her like a dark shadow, haunting and relentless. Furina's mind drifted back to that day when she had watched him, with the calm grace only Neuvillette had, offer solace to the woman who had been caught in her own despair. The woman had stood in front of him, trembling with grief, and Neuvillette, always the judge, the unwavering pillar of empathy, had wrapped his arms around her, whispering soft, comforting words. He had held her, protected her from herself, and in that moment, Furina had felt the sting of something sharp and foreign in her chest.

Jealousy.

It was a feeling she had never known of, yet it surged up in waves, clawing at her insides. She had told herself it was nothing, that Neuvillette was simply being who he was, selfless, but she had lied. The covetous tug had taken root in her heart, and she had watched, helpless, as another woman found comfort in his embrace. It was the subtle way he had brushed her hair back, the way his eyes had softened with such tenderness. Furina had never seen that tenderness directed at anyone but herself. She foolishly stood on the periphery, a silent witness to a warmth that could never be hers, and, worse still, never even had been hers. She had never thought of love, especially not in such terms, yet it was all her mind could ruminate on at that exact moment. A quiet, painful truth blossomed within her: she never wanted to see that rare, gentle expression, given to anyone else. 

Her thoughts returned to the present as Neuvillette’s lips pressed against the curve of her neck, sending a tremor through her. He had never kissed her there before, not in all the years they had worked together side by side. It was a moment of closeness, a fleeting sensation of what she had longed for in silence. Centuries of restrained feelings, of pushing her desires aside, and now, it was finally happening. But the ghost of that jealousy lingered. As his lips trailed across her skin, Furina felt the confusion of her heart, the burning shame of her own frustrations. She had never been so weak, never so... human, in all her life. To feel this possessiveness was beneath her, a ludicrous weakness she had worked so hard to suppress.

Buried in her thoughts she groans and pulls on his long hair, as though she could pull him into her very soul, keep him there so that he could never escape. Crystalline droplets collect in her eyes while her brows are furrowed. She takes his face into the palms of her hands and brings him closer, her lips crashing onto his with newfound fervor. Neuvillette’s breath hitched, the force of her touch both demanding and desperate. His hands moved instinctively to her back, pulling her closer, feeling the heat of her body against his afraid she might slip away.

Furina’s body pressed against his with thirst, her breath shallow and uneven as she sought deeper contact. Salty teardrops rolled down her cheeks, and he kissed them away with care. His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of her spine through the thin fabric of her blouse, sending jolts of electricity through her with every touch. 

"Take this off, at last," she orders, pulling his jacket off his shoulders. And, as he always had, Neuvillette obeys. "And this too," she whispers ardently, unbuttoning his shirt. All that is capable of escaping his mouth is a low chuckle. He lets Furina undo the jet buttons on his collar while elegantly folding his jacket away. Neuvillette watches her, amusement flickering in his usually solemn gaze. 

"Impatient, aren't we?" his voice is deep and velvety, though there is no real tease in it, only quiet fondness. Furina huffs, her fingers working deftly to undo the remaining buttons. 

"You’re awfully composed for someone in your position," she retorts, though her voice wavers slightly when his hands dive under the hem of her blouse, finding the curve of her waist. He hums in response, allowing her to push the fabric from his shoulders, his shirt slipping to the floor in a whisper of silk against the wooden floor. 

"I am merely savoring the moment," he confesses, tilting his head as he watches her, the way her fingers hesitate for just a fraction of a second before tracing the bare skin now exposed to her. Her breath catches. The sight of him, so unguarded and so entirely hers, makes something tighten in her chest. 

"Then," she says, with her known arrogance, "savor it properly."

Neuvillette needed no further encouragement, reverently kissing her outstretched arm before sinking to his knees. His hands trace patterns along her legs, placing his lips on the plush of her thighs. What is the best way to worship one’s Deity but with your lips? The contrast between his cool fingertips and the heat of his mouth made her shiver. Furina tilts her head back slightly, her fingers threading through his silken hair, tightening ever so slightly when his lips trail higher. A shaky breath escapes her lips, and Neuvillette hums at the sound, sucking on her skin, leaving a small red mark. He looked at her with a pleading need, lavender eyes in silent question politely asked for permission, and, to no one’s surprise, she granted such request with a quick nod of her head. 

She helps him take off her shorts, left in her underwear in no time, exposing a wet mark spreading over her panties. Neuvillette caresses the intricate lace, only God knows why she decided to wear it today when they were supposed to have a casual tea party. Lasciviously he laps on that wet patch, his tongue trying to collect as much of her wetness from the cloth. Her ragged breaths become ever more loud when he finally pulls her panties to the side, uncovering a glistening cunt. Her face turns bright red when he delves his tongue inside her hot hole, outlining her walls, his nose rubbing against her clit. She grasps the armchair and her head tilts to the side, trying to bring her legs together in tension, but he holds them wide apart instead. 

“Oh God…” she moans salaciously as he sucks on the sensitive bud, his long fingers pressing the spongy wall, “Slow down, I–” he thrusts his digits into her, curling them over and over accompanied by his slurping noises. “Neuvi!” she whines, hiding her face in the palms of her hands her feet, still in her shoes, high in the air. Once he had savored every inch of her, the rough fingertips ventured deeper, seeking for her sweet juices until nothing but whimpers came out of her mouth. Inconspicuous gazes, lewd sounds coming out from the creaking furniture to the erotic pleading, the room was wicked. She struggled to stay in place, her back arched like a cat as she finished, muttering nothing but profanities. 

“My beautiful girl,” he coos as she trembles from the aftershocks of her orgasm, he reassuringly squeezes her thighs licking her irritated core. 

“Come here,” she pants gesturing him to stand up, and so he does. Neuvillette delicately picks her into his arms, kissing her forehead. He sits himself down on the couch nearby and lets her straddle him. Unconsciously she grinds against the hardness in his pants, her movements becoming more determined with every second. 

“Have you not had your fill?” he replies with a hint of a smirk at the wanton actions of the woman on his lap. 

“Shut it,” she retorts, trying to unbuckle his belt. “What do you sit so comfortably for?” her conceited tone she is known for comes back and he can’t help but smile. Her juices sullied his trousers, to hell with them, he knew he would give anything up to be this close to her. 

With deliberate intent, she freed him, his length slapping against his toned abdomen. It was large and hard, with blue scales at the base of it, a reminder of his dragon origin, with pre-cum on the tip insisting upon itself. A shiver ran through her as her lips parted instinctively, desire pooling at the mere thought of taking him in. 

“Heavens,” she whispers as she caresses his shaft from the bottom to the top, making him blush. She instantly wraps her hand around it, and squeezes ever so slightly making him groan, “So sensitive.”

“Furina stop saying that,” he exhales putting his arm across his face panting, hiding in embarrassment as pathetic noises escape him each time she pumps his cock. 

“My subject ought not to give me instructions,” she giggles letting go of her grip. He bucks his hips miserably suddenly cut off from any stimulation. She grabs his arm and pulls it away from his expression, “One must look their deity in her eyes when addressing her,” she says self-indulgently. 

“Yes… Lady Furina,” Neuvillette yelps when she squeezes his nipple, “Whatever you wish!”

She giggled cruelly, at last, she could punish the disobedient incarnation. This is all his fault for making her wait so long, for irritating her with jealousy. The man under her writhed for touch, any touch, and as a merciful God, she decided to give him some grace. She takes his cock into her palms once more and strokes it, making him whimper praises. She then lifts herself up, directing his tip into her sex but not letting it slip in, taunting. 

“Lady Furina… I beg you, please,” he blinks heavily, his lavender eyes filled with nothing but craving thirst. Oh, how she longed to immortalize that pitiful expression, to capture it and hang it upon the walls of her memory forever. Maybe someday she will commission an artist to capture this memory, she thought to herself as she steadily lowered herself onto him. 

“Ahh– Thank you ah!” he whimpered shamelessly in her ear, his broad shoulders shaking under her hands. She found it difficult to remain stable, her walls stretching to accommodate his thick length, fitting like a glove. Furina could swear she felt each and every vein, that she could feel the outline of that cock in her. 

Neuvillette was holding her tightly by her waist, his barely warm fingers continuing their journey up her torso, finding themselves encircling her breasts. The woman before him sighed encouragingly, so he lifted up her top and took her nipple into his mouth. He sucked on it while she continued to ride him, steadying herself and holding onto his chest. The coolness of his lips contrasted with the heat of her skin, and she moaned against him, feeling her core tighten around him. 

“Shit,” he hisses as she keeps gripping him, bouncing on it, “Furina if you–” he winces unable to finish the rest of the sentence when she interrupts with insistent, sweet whining in his ear. Her grinding becomes more aggressive as she rides to her climax. 

“So good!” she throws her head back, “I am close!”He looks up at her in awe, his devotion unwavering, for to him, divinity was not bound by titles or thrones. Whether goddess or mortal, she remained sacred—his only creed, his only altar. And until the day his body failed and his soul faded into the abyss, he would worship her with every breath he had left. 

So lost in watching her use him to get herself off, he almost misses the point where he finishes too, groaning. Tired, Furina collapses on his chest as the warm liquid fills her, thick strings of cum coating her inside. Neuvillette sees stars, a quiet sort of bliss settling deep within him. He has never felt so content, so utterly at peace. For a long time, the couple remains still, neither daring to disturb the fragile serenity wrapped around them.

Furina rests against him, her head nestled into the crook of his neck, her fingers idly tracing faint patterns over his chest. His arms encircle her with a tenderness that speaks of promises unspoken, Their breaths fall into sync, a steady rhythm of warmth and closeness, a silent language only they understand.

He presses a lingering kiss to the top of her head, his lips barely ghosting over her hair, and she sighs—a sound so soft, so vulnerable, that it tugs at something deep within him. Outside, the world moves on, time pressing forward as it always does, but here, in the quiet sanctuary of their embrace, nothing else exists.

For now, this is enough.