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Summary
“This tea,” said Neuvillette earlier that day, sipping his cup politely. “I am not one for it but it seems to be delightful when brewed by your capable hands. Good job, Wriothesley.”
Wriothesley isn’t a child, Neuvillette reminds himself. Younger, yes, but not young, and so at first something like praise seems as though it may be childish. But then he noticed that Wriothesley leaned into it, red from the tips of his ears to those damnable collarbones on display underneath his open collar.
He’d been slacked-jawed, mouth falling open in surprise. Then he’d rubbed at his neck and laughed it off nervously, but he liked it—the praise. It did not go unnoticed by Neuvillette’s keen eyes.
Neuvillette dishes out a healthy dose of praise in bed.
Series
- Part 7 of just as you are