Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hnggh—" Wriothesley inhales sharply, a flicker of discomfort on his face as his jaw clenches—"t-too tight."

Furina's eyes widen, flashing with panic and guilt. "S-Sorry!" she stammers, fingers fumbling at the silk of his tie, hurriedly loosening the knot.

She pauses and attempts again, a furrow on her brows. This time, her touch is featherlight and meticulous, the fabric sliding into place without tightening around his throat.

"There!" Furina pats the tied knot with a triumphant smile.

She glances up.

Ocean blue meets stormy gray. She holds her breath, the small space between them thickens. Warms.

Then Wriothesley's lips slowly curve into a knowing smile.

Before she can react, he grabs her wrists and yanks her against him.

The sudden press into his chest, the hardness and heat of his body, steals her breath away. More so than she did with his tie.

"Well done, kitten," he coos into her ear, voice laced with velvet amusement.

Her blush ignites.

A laugh escapes him—deep and unrestrained—cut short when she jabs a fist into his chest. A weak and futile protest.

"You are adorable." His voice melts her—laced with an affection that sends her pulse skittering like a startled bird inside her ribs.

Furina gazes up at him—her man.

Her lover.

Her refuge.

Just another morning. Just another tie straightened, another pot of tea shared between them.

But to her? These simple moments are holy.

Every murmur of endearment, every brush of his calloused fingers, peels back another layer of her loneliness from centuries past. Five hundred years of ache dissolve like sugar cubes in hot tea, leaving only the sweetness of a future she no longer has to imagine—a life no longer a dream beyond her grasp.

At his words, her lips part in surrender, curving into a smile so tender it threatens to undo him.

Then, as swift as lightning, Furina fists her hand in his silk tie and yanks him down to her mouth for a brief yet burning kiss.

"I know." She releases him with a smirk, tilting her chin up. "You're fortunate to have me here, living here in this dump."

His laughter is a rumble, but his touch is reverent. Wriothesley cradles her face, his thumb tracing her cheek as she leans into his palm.

"Blessed is what I'd say." His voice drops, devotion undeniable. "You are the best thing that's ever happened to me, Furina."

Wriothesley bends down for one last kiss. Warmth lingering on their lips.

He pulls away with reluctance, fingertips trailing down her arm, unwilling to let go.

"See you later," he says.

"Mm. Try not to miss me too much," she retorts with a flushed face as she waves him goodbye.

"Doesn't it… lack passion, Miss Furina?" Xavier turns to his side, his brow arching in critique.

The actors pause mid-embrace, their staged kiss suddenly feeling awkward under the bright spotlight of the Opera Epiclese.

Furina taps her finger on her lips, feeling the weight of Xavier's expectant gaze. The silence stretches, and her hesitation goes unnoticed.

"Surely someone like you can recognize when two people lack intimacy," Xavier adds casually.

Intimacy.

The word lodges in her throat.

Furina thinks of Wriothesley—of shared mornings, of his laughter against her hair, of the way his hands find her waist in sleep, of kisses exchanged daily.

Yet also of the unspoken line they haven't crossed.

"Xavier's right," she says in a crisp tone as she crosses her legs. "This is a romantic scene—you've got to make your audience believe that your characters are deeply in love with each other!"

Xavier nods in agreement and goes on to add more comments to Furina's remark as her mind drifts away.

It's been over a year since she and Wriothesley became a couple. Almost a year since they started living together in their own little apartment in the city.

They have shared meals, shared a bed together, shared countless kisses.

She wants more—wants to take their relationship to the next level, to become more intimate with him.

Or as novels sometimes put it—Furina wants "to be one" with Wriothesley.

But every attempt on her part is met with failure.

Why? Does he not want to do those things with me?

A savory aroma greets her when she enters their home.

"Welcome home!" Wriothesley pokes his head out of the kitchen to greet her warmly before returning to the stove.

Furina kicks off her shoes and tosses her things onto the couch before joining him in their dining room-kitchen.

"I'm home," she says with a smile.

Then her eyes fall on the blue-colored box sitting on top their dining table.

Gateau Debord.

Her loud squeal startles him, almost makes him drop his ladle.

"You got them!" She crashes into him, arms wrapping around his torso, face buried into his back. "You got me a slice of my favorite cake!"

"Slices," he corrects her as he sets the ladle down and turns off the stove.

He turns around to face her, and her smile is like sunlight through storm clouds. A sweet reward for his efforts. "One for each of us."

"I can't believe you got two slices! They only sell—"

"Sixteen slices a day, I know."

Her smile grows, thinking about what he went through just to get them for her.

"I've been craving for this," Furina admits, her voice small. She can't remember the last time she had a slice. Perhaps it was back then when she still lived in the Palais Mermonia.

Wriothesley brings a hand to her cheek. "I know."

He always knows.

Furina releases him from her embrace, rests her hands on his chest as she stands on her tiptoes to kiss him.

Wriothesley lowers his head a little for her to reach, her kiss fervent.

He growls against her mouth, sturdy arms hauling her closer until her feet leave the ground.

Then her stomach rumbles.

Laughter bubbles up from their throats and he sets her down.

"Let's eat," Wriothesley says as he lets her go.

Furina simply nods and helps him set up the table, her mind lingering on that kiss instead of the cake he got her.

Furina has never seen Wriothesley naked.

Topless, yes but those moments are rare and fleeting.

She's never been shy about her own body. Not with him.

Over the months, her modest nightgowns have been replaced by lace that clings to her hips, sheer fabric hugging her slender figure, and silk that slides against her creamy thighs—clothes designed to make him stare, make him ache in need—in desire.

Yet no matter how low the neckline or how high the hemline, Wriothesley's gaze never darkens with lust, never lingers on her body. If he feels something or anything at all, he hides it from her.

Tonight, Furina has had enough; she's done waiting.

She finishes drying her hair and applies a little bit of makeup on her face.

She heads towards their bed, but discards her robe before climbing in.

Let him see.

When Wriothesley emerges from the bathroom in a robe, his entire body freezes at the sight before him.

Furina lounges on their bed, bare as the morning light, one leg curled over the other. A sultry smile on her lips and a hunger in her gaze that could make any man climb into bed and pounce on her.

But not Wriothesley.

"Furina!" His voice cracks.

She pats down the space beside her as she sends him an inviting smile.

Despite her confident facade, her pulse roars, embarrassed at what she's doing.

Wriothesley's face flushes as he swallows hard.

He knows why she's doing this. They've been together for over a year now. They must talk about it.

But instead, his body betrays him and he bolts towards the door.

"Hey!" Furina exclaims.

She leaps out of bed, and in a flash, her fingers are clamping around his wrist. "Wriothesley!"

He could free himself from her weak grip in an instant.

But he doesn't.

He meets her eyes and yields to her.

Wordlessly, he lets her lead him back to their bed where they sit. He pulls up the covers to her shoulders, while avoiding the sight of her breasts and ignoring the small tenting behind his robe.

Furina's chest aches. "Is there a reason—" she whispers, breaking the silence between them—"you don't want to have sex with me?"

He'd expected this question yet his jaw clenches upon hearing it aloud. "It's not you."

"Then what is it? Why?" Her nails dig into the sheets beside her. "Do you… find me repulsive?"

"No!" His eyes widen, hands engulfing hers. "No," he repeats, softer this time. "It's not you. It's me. I thought… you'd be disgusted."

He stands up and removes his bathrobe, letting it pool around his feet on the floor.

Furina's breath stops.

Scars.

Countless scars crisscrossing his skin like an indelible map of his suffering over the years. Some are thin and silvered while others deep, old, and vicious. She only knows the scars visible on his neck, arms, and face. But not these.

She slowly reaches out her hand, fingers hovering over the scars on his chest.

She wants to ask him, want to know where he'd gotten them and who gave them. But she thinks that it might be too personal or traumatic.

"Street brawls. Prison fights. Skirmishes with Gardemeks," Wriothesley offers answers to her unspoken questions. "Not exactly pretty, huh?"

He searches her face for disapproval, for disgust—for any sign that she is completely repulsed by this sudden display.

Furina doesn't answer him.

Instead, she rises, stands in front of him. Her Vision glows in the nightstand, and hydro swirls from the floor, a liquid veil spiraling up her body.

And when it dissipates, Wriothesley's brows quirk up and his jaw slackens, heart sinking low to his gut.

"Those are—"

Scars.

Furina lets out a weak smile. "Just like yours," she says. "But fewer."

His gaze lingers on the jagged scar on her sternum, trying not to imagine what had happened to her to cause that.

She twirls for him, showing the other scars on her back and arms.

"When I became the Hydro Archon, there were some who weren't happy with me succeeding Egeria," Furina tells him solemnly. "During my first few years, there had been attempts on my life. Some from disapproving Oceanids and some from disgruntled Fontainians who thought I was unfit for the position."

She stops and faces him, meeting his sorrowful eyes.

"Does… Does Neuvillette know?" Wriothesley asks in a soft voice.

Furina nods her head. "About the scars? No. I've kept these from him, too. The Divine must be flawless. I didn't want my Iudex to worry about or doubt his Archon."

"You kept these from him—from everyone—for five hundred years?!"

And again, she nods. "Yes. I've been covering them up with cosmetics."

Silence stretches between them as they reflect on these revelations.

Then Furina takes a step closer to Wriothesley, brings her hand over the large scar on his chest.

"So you see, Wriothesley," she says through her smile; "I could never be disgusted by you."

She leans down, removes her hand, replacing it with her lips.

"And I feel the same way about you, Furina," he murmurs, a smile on his lips. "Thank you. Thank you for opening up to me about this." He takes her hand and presses it over his heart.

"And thank you, too, for opening up to me."

He pulls her down to his lap, their lips meeting for a slow yet heated kiss.

"I love you, Furina," he whispers reverently, her forehead resting against his.

She smiles, her heart full. "I love you, too, Wriothesley." She circles her arms around him, nuzzling her face against crook of his neck. "Now, about us having sex—eek!"

A sharp gasp is ripped from her lips as her back hits the mattress, Wriothesley hovering over her with her wrists pinned down beside her head.

"Don't worry, kitten," he purrs into the shell of her ear, pressing his bare erection between her thighs that sends her pulse soaring. "Leave everything to me. I'll make sure you're thoroughly satisfied."

Her blush intensifies and she braces herself for a long and exhausting night.

Chapter Text

The breath rushes from her lungs as her back meets the mattress—a soft gasp escaping her, sweet and sharp, sending his pulse thundering in response. His gaze drags over her—slow and deliberate—drinking in the sight of her bare skin against the rumpled sheets. The flush painting her cheeks deepens, her lips parted, her blue eyes glazed with a hunger that mirrors the heat coiling low in his belly.

Furina stares up at him—trapped between his muscular arms, the heat of his body pressing her into the bed. For a fleeting moment, hesitation flickers in her gaze, a shy dip of her lashes. But when her eyes drop down to between his thighs…

Furina swallows. Hard.

Wriothesley’s mouth curves into a knowing smirk, enthralled as he watches. He bends close, his breath hot against her ear as he whispers, "Like what you see, kitten ?"

Her eyes snap to his, wide with feigned indignation—but the way her lips curl in challenge betrays her. Before he can react, her arms loop around his neck, her legs locking around his waist, pulling him flush against her. 

And then—

To his surprise, she flips them over until she is above him, grinning triumphantly as her thighs bracket his hips, her warmth pressed tantalizingly against his aching length. The smirk on her lips is pure sin, her gaze molten as she leans down, her hair cascading around them like a silken curtain.

"Surprised?" she breathes against his lips, and the sound is a velvet stroke against his senses.

Wriothesley’s hands find her waist, gripping hard, his voice rough with want. "Pleasantly."

Their kiss is molten, a collision of heat and hunger. It begins slow—lips brushing, teasing, savoring the velvet softness of each other before surrendering to something deeper, wetter. A languid exploration turns into a fevered waltz, tongues sliding together in slick, intoxicating rhythm.

Furina cups his face between her hands as she claims his mouth with a boldness that steals his breath. Her tongue slides past his lips, exploring him with a desperate, possessive need—like she’s memorizing the taste of him. He shudders slightly when she licks the roof of his mouth.

Wriothesley groans into her, stunned, wrecked by her sudden dominance—but he yields, letting her take what she wants. His hips jerk upward in answer, the hard length of him grinding against her heat, drawing out the sweetest, softest whimpers from her throat.

“Ngh—F-Furina—” His voice is rough, dripping with lust, her name a prayer as their lips part, breath mingling in ragged gasps.

Furina braces herself against his chest, fingers digging into the hard planes of muscle as he rolls his hips again, his cock dragging against her slick, aching core. The friction is maddening —too much and yet not enough.

“W-Wriothesley—” His name spills from her lips—a plea. Her voice and body tremble. “I… I…”

He doesn’t wait for her to say it—doesn’t need to. Her body speaks for her, the hitch of her breath, the way her hips tilt in a tantalizing invitation. His broad hands possessively grip her waist, lifting her just enough before he drags her down in one relentless stroke, burying himself inside her with a force that wrenches a shattered cry from her lips.

"Aah! Wriothesley!"

Her voice cries his name, tears springing to her eyes as pleasure and pain twist together in a single, searing moment. Her body trembles, her fingers scrambling for purchase across the planes of his muscles—before her nails dig into the hard ridges of his chest, anchoring herself as she gasps against the overwhelming sensation that fills her.

Beneath her, Wriothesley grits his teeth, his own restraint about to snap like a delicate threat. She’s so tight—hot, silken walls clenching around him like she was made to take him notwithstanding her size. He watches in rapt attention as her lashes flutter, her teeth sinking into her swollen lower lip while she adjusts—while her body yields to the thick, throbbing length of him.

Furina’s gaze drops between them—to where they are connected. Her breath catches when she sees how much of him is still outside, yet she feels impossibly full, stretched to the brink. A whimper escapes her, but not with fear—no, there’s something darker in it, something that makes his blood burn.

Wriothesley exhales sharply, forcing himself still despite the primal urge to move. Her pain is written plainly in the flush of her skin, the dampness on her cheeks, but he waits—waits for her, because Archons help him, he’d stop if she asked.

But then—

Her breath steadies. Her thighs tighten around his hips. And when her eyes meet his again, they’re not just glazed with tears, but with want, with a daring little smirk that sends heat pulsing through his veins.

Slowly and deliberately, she rolls her hips—just once, just enough to make him groan, to make him shudder. His fingers dig into her flesh as pleasure spikes throughout his body.

" Fuck —" His voice is rough, wrecked. "You’re going to kill me, kitten ."

And the way she smiles down at him—triumphant, wicked—tells him she knows exactly what she’s doing.

A giggle escapes her—melodious and innocent, a contrast to her prior sinful whimpers. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” She cups his cheeks again—blue eyes so tender gaze into his that he simply melts.

Wriothesley’s hands slide from her waist, arms encircling her instead—pulling her down in one swift, possessive motion until her lips hover just above his, close enough to taste.

"Archons," he murmurs against her mouth, the words rough with reverence, "you are so beautiful, Furina." His kiss is slow, deep, a languid claiming that makes her toes curl. Calloused palms skate up the delicate curve of her spine, down again, mapping every shiver she can’t suppress. "I’m so damned lucky to have you."

Her heart stutters—a fluttering warmth spreading through her chest, brighter than desire. For a moment, she forgets the heat between them, lost in the sweetness of his words, in the way his lips worship hers.

Until—

"Did you just get bigger inside me?"

Horror flashes across her face, eyes widening as she pulls back slightly.

Wriothesley’s answering laughter is dark, rich with amusement. "I can’t help it, kitten—" His thumb brushes her flushed cheek, his voice dropping to a growl. "You are so fucking hot."

The crude praise sends a scorching blush across her skin. "Wriothesley!" she whines, hiding behind her hands, but he catches her wrists, gently prying them away.

"I mean it." His gaze burns into hers, unyielding in its honesty. "You are."

Another kiss—this one deeper, hungrier. And when she finally recovers, embarrassment melting back into desire, she rolls her hips experimentally.

"F-Furina—" His voice fractures into a groan, hands gripping her thighs as she rises, then sinks back down, taking him deeper. "Hnngh— fuck —"

She swallows the rest of him—sinks inch after delicious inch. And when his entirety is inside her, the air leaves Furinna’s lungs as she cries.

“Haaa…” She grips his shoulders to steady herself, tears leaking out of her eyes again as she feels him inside her—his tip kissing her cervix, his pulsating shaft stretching her walls. 

She slides a hand down over her belly, feels the bulge of having him inside her. She could feel him twitch inside her walls through her palm against her belly. The sensation is new… and thrilling.

Wriothesley observes her again with patience—with godly willpower. Had he had his way before, she would’ve been beneath him by now, rocking against the sheets, crying a sinful symphony as he ravages her like a ravenous beast.

But this is their first time, and her wants outweigh and outrank his own primal desires.

And besides, this surely wouldn’t be the last time they’ll have sex. He’d have his opportunities in the future.

His train of thought is interrupted when Furina pushes him down against the mattress. The smirk on her sweat-stained face is the only warning he gets before she rides him.

He holds her hips again for support, his mind going blank and his body rhythmically moving to reciprocate her efforts.

Her cries fill the air—a breathless, trembling melody, each gasp and sigh a verse that pulls his own groans deep from his throat. They harmonize in the heat between them, a chorus of want, of skin and sweat and shuddering pleasure.

The sheets dampen with fluids—a combination of their sweat and slick.

Furina sinks down into him—a loud cry ripped from her throat as she cums. Her orgasm crashes down on her, her vision turning white.

And Wriothesley’s restraint finally snaps.

In a blink of an eye, he’s on top of her with her ankle draped over his shoulder. His gaze darkens with desire as he thrusts into her while she’s still high from pleasure—relentlessly seeking his release until—

“I-Inside!” Furina screams—both a command and a plea. 

He shoves his cock deep inside her with a force that knocks the air out of her lungs and spills his seed.

“Aahhhhh…” Wriothesley groans as he spurts ropes after ropes of hot cum inside her womb. “Furina…”

“Wriothesley… hngghh…”

He softens inside her. And when he pulls out, Furina laments the loss of his cock inside her.

Wriothesley slumps down beside her, stares at the ceiling as he catches his breath, wondering whether this was all just some vivid wet dream.

But a kiss to his cheek grounds him to reality—this damned beautiful reality he’s living in.

Slowly, he turns to his side to face her.

She looks radiant as ever—happier, too—despite her disheveled hair plastered onto her sweaty skin and the flush across her skin.

As his gaze wanders across her unblemished, he thinks, “I’ve yet to mark her… Maybe next time.”

Furina pulls the blanket over her body and shoots him a mildly scolding stare. “I know what you’re thinking, Wriothesley.”

He laughs. Then he circles his arms around her middle and pulls her against him. “You object, kitten?” He nuzzles his face against her hair, takes in her sweet fragrance combined with her sweat.

“Well… No.” Her face softens. “I don’t mind it—but not now! I have work tomorrow.”

“I know.” His embrace tightens, and she hums contentedly against his bare chest.

“Next time,” she whispers, a promise.

And he smiles. “Next time.”

After a few more kisses and a sweet exchange of “good nights”, the couple drift to sleep with smiles on their lips and their hearts full.

“Seriously—” Wriothesley murmurs when he wakes up first, finding her still snuggled in his arms— “I’m so damned lucky you chose me.” He takes a stray lock of her hair and tucks it behind her ear. “I love you, Furina.”