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There is something delicious about the staring.
Neuvillette doesn't seem to notice, or, if he does, he pays it no mind. Wriothesley though— oh , he loves it. Every time that his gaze wanders, and he meets the stare of someone else, there's a flare of warmth that heats his gut. Not with pleasure, but with something else, something older, instinctive.
Those gazes often linger on Neuvillette, and Wriothesley can't help but feel mildly possessive. His alpha churrs, pleased that no one comes closer, that no one tries to make a move because they know that Neuvillette belongs to him.
But, but, it isn't just that—no, Wriothesley belongs to him too, and their mutual claim is impossible to ignore. They reek of each other. Neuvillette does nothing to hide their intertwined scents, or even the marks that peek out from his collar. He'd never broadcast them, no, but he thinks nothing of them either, and oh, Writohesley loves when he catches a flash of them through crisp, silk lace.
They're out and about, folded together a little too closely for what could be considered polite for two, unmated men—and, alphas at that. Still, Neuvillette's hand remains a solid, warm presence against the middle of Wriothesley's back as they promenade through the Court.
"It's too bright," teases Wriothesley, shielding his eyes.
"It's a shady day." There's a half-smile on Neuvillette's face, startling enough that it catches the attention of others they pass by.
"Shade or not, it's still bright."
Wriothesley's alpha is pleased; Neuvillette chuckles softly, and his scent is pleasant, affectionate, even. He's so at ease that it leaks freely, and—
Oh, he's just gone, isn't he? Wriothesley has always been a romantic, but to be at the center of his own story, to have found a partner that makes him sway on his feet, and his heart beat a little faster is something.
Neuvillette pauses in his step, head tilted as he regards him.
Wriothesley wonders if his scent has changed. "Wait, it's—"
But then he realizes that Neuvillette's gaze is actually trained over his shoulder and behind him.
Neuvillette's mouth twitches, pulling into a slight frown. "Must they stare?"
Wriothesley blinks. "Sweetheart, everyone's been staring. They always do. We aren't exactly subtle."
"No, that isn't…" Neuvillette sighs. "The attention directed at us is, usually, of a more curious nature. Rarely is it so overtly disgusted."
Oh. Wriothesley smells it then, the annoyance that tinges Neuvillette's ocean-salt scent with something sharper. It's a subtle shift, one that most won't notice. But Wriothesley does. He can't not, and his alpha craves to soothe it.
"Pay them no mind."
"Beloved—"
Wriothesley reaches out and takes hold of Neuvillette's hand, tugging at it. He drags his cheek across his gloved knuckles and down the line of his wrist. "Is this okay?" he asks because this is the most overt Wriothesley's been in public.
Neuvillette's pupils are blown wide. His scent shifts again, spiced with warmth, and affection. He purrs and says, "Yes."
Wriothesley's gaze falls to where Neuvillette's was before, and he spots an older gentleman. The alpha wears an aghast expression, which only makes Wriothesley smile. Then, with a wink at that man, he kisses the back of Neuvillette's hand, the touch lingering long enough that Neuvillette has to politely pull away.
"Later, Wriothesley,” he lightly admonishes.
"Aw, let me have my fun."
"I will, beloved. Later. Don't give the man a heart attack."
Wriothesley grunts, but pulls away.
But then Neuvillette catches his hand. "For what it is worth," he says, tugging Wriothesley's palm close similarly, "I would not have you stop. I have little care for propriety when it comes to you."
Clearly, because Neuvillette's next action is to return the gesture, to drag his nose across Wriothesley's scarred knuckles, his lips ghosting calloused skin in an almost kiss.
It's more intimate than outright making out in public. Scenting is something done unconsciously, instinctively, but to do it so openly with want, to return the action with such quiet heat is a claim that cannot be ignored.
Warmth stirs in Wriothesley's gut, his alpha settled by this one, not-so-subtle and very possessive action on Neuvillette's part.
Neuvillette is quick with it, the touch lasting only a minute before he pulls away. He's still close, too close, almost, hip-to-hip as his hand curls around Wriothesley's back to rest there.
"I do think that, perhaps, you're the reason others might have a heart attack." Because who is used to seeing their Chief Justice like this? Wriothesley barely is.
Neuvillette's mouth curves into a dangerous smile, but he says nothing else.