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Wriothesley, clearly, doesn’t think much of it. “It’s probably stupid,” he mutters, pulling his hand across the back of his neck. “Certainly isn’t much, it’s just…” That hand pulls away and gestures vaguely at what sits in Neuvillette’s palm. “It’s just a stone.”
A very nice stone, iridescent and blue, polished smooth until it glints, capturing the midday sunlight. Shiny. Nice to the touch, a perfect palmful. Neuvillette drags the pad of his thumb across it, humming softly at the gentle pull against his skin.
“Just a stone,” he repeats. “From you.”
“I—yeah.” Wriothesley pauses, very awkward about this. “I was walking on the beach and saw it. Probably washed up with the tide, so I grabbed it, and polished it and…” He gestures again.
“You polished it.” Neuvillette, then, thinks of Wriothesley doing just that, long, thick and callused fingers pulling a thick-grit sandpaper over the stone. Those fingers—those fingers—
Well. Neuvillette tries and fails to not think about those fingers on a bad day, but to imagine them doing such a thing has him catching his breath. It’s a mundane thing. A silly little hobby that occupies Wriothesley's spare time.
“The color reminds me of you.” A pause as Wriothesley kicks at the ground with his boot. A soft, whistling breath.“So I…” An awkward clearing of his throat to chase away his nervousness. “I just thought it would make for a nice gift.”
Oh. Oh, that’s nice. Wonderful, even. Neuvillette is given many gifts on account of being the emperor, but they never mean a thing. This, though—this makes his heart skip a beat. It makes warmth curl in his gut, and his omega roll over, pleased that an alpha has—
No, no, that’s a terrible thought.
Only it isn’t, not with Wriothesley. Neuvillette’s perfectly fine leaning into these hindbrain instincts if it’s Wriothesley rousing them. They’ve been friends with benefits for so long that it’s become something else, that Neuvillette wants it to grow. And known that Wriothesley wants the same because even the most composed alphas struggle to rein in their scents when they want so freely.
For Wriothesley, all it takes is a look. And that look is currently on his face, that wide-eyed, boyish look of wonder as he watches Neuvillette. Waits. Fiddles with his thumbs like a sovereigns-damned puppy for Neuvillette’s approval.
Neuvillette’s omega churrs. He’s pleased, so, so pleased that Wriothesley wants to appeal to him. What a good alpha, courting him so perfectly. He’s—
Courting him.
Surely not. Neuvillette wouldn’t dare consider this, but Wriothesley's keen attention seems to speak for itself. The gift reminded him of Neuvillette, so he plucked it from the sand. He spent time polishing it, and now, here the stone is, a perfect weight against Neuvillette’s palm.
Neuvillette’s omega runs wild. Can’t help it, nostrils flaring and face tilting just ever-so-slightly to catch a whiff of Wriothesley's tea and metal scent. Warm. Comfortable. Oh, what a good alpha he is—
He’d be, not that he is. Wriothesley isn’t his alpha. Neuvillette is an omega who requires no one, even during his heats. The moments that they share, the things they do with each other is all self-indulgent—
But that’s what is so wonderful about this gift, isn’t it? Wriothesley made this for him. Picked up this stone because it reminded him of Neuvillette, and then polished it to perfection before gifting it. Now, Wriothesley stands there, scrubbing at his neck with this awkward, dopey expression, his scent acrid with anxiety.
That won’t do. Neuvillette purrs and gives him a smile, petting at the rock. “It is truly wonderful.”
At that, Wriothesley perks up, his back straightening in surprise. “I—well, there’s no need to go so far—”
“Nonsense,” cuts in Neuvillette. “I will treasure this always, Wriothesley.”
Wriothesley scent changes, warming up with cinnamon and spice. Please, so, so pleased that Neuvillette has accepted his gift. And that expression, that wide and easy smile that opens up on Wriothesley's face has Neuvillette’s heart skipping a beat.
Alpha, he thinks again. Mine, mine, mine.
“Well, if I see any more…” Wriothesley trails off with a chuckle, as if he can’t quite believe it. Then offers Neuvillette a teasing wink. “I know what to do with them.”
It takes everything within Neuvillette’s ancient being to not immediately lean into that call. He’s always had a mild distaste for his omega tendencies, but this…with Wriothesley… Neuvillette settles for a soft churr in return, and a coy, barely-there smile that wrinkles the skin underneath his eyes.
Pocketing the stone, he says, “I look forward to more, then. Tea, later?”
“I—yes. Yes, of course. I’ll—tea.” They’ve spent countless heats together by this point, but Wriothesley is still an awkward duckling when it comes to more casual meetings.
Neuvillette likes this, likes him. Mine, his hindbrain begs as he thumbs at the rock now in his pocket. My alpha, my—
“Later,” says Wriothesley, reaching out to take hold of Neuvillette’s hand.
They both pause. This isn’t so unusual when in private, but out here, in the open, outside of a heat… Neuvillette swallows thickly, finding it hard to breathe. To think of anything other than Wriothesley's pleased scent, and how his omega craves to answer that call.
Wriothesley is not courting him, Neuvillette tells himself.
But then Wriothesley tugs Neuvillette’s hand up towards his face. Boldly, he presses his cheek against Neuvillette’s knuckles to scent them, and it’s easy to imagine that it’s just the two of them in this pocket; that Wriothesley is equally enthralled, wanting to be close.
“Later,” then says Wriothesley, peeling himself away. “I’ll brew the good tea.”
Neuvillette, who doesn’t like tea, would normally say there isn’t such a thing, but he’s too focused on the tingling on his skin, how it soaks up Wriothesley's scent like it belongs there. Wriothesley's gift burns a hole in his pocket.
Mate, thinks Neuvillette as Wriothesley leaves him to his devices for the rest of the afternoon.