Work Text:
They are both lovely, in their own ways.
They are lovely and fit together just so as he watches them rest together, a broad arm wound around a slim waist, a tufted tail gently flicking through a pile of dropped pink petals on the ground.
With a start, he realizes that he does not know where to fit between them both.
Morax's face was pressed into Azhdaha's chest as he rested, the line between their bodies seamless and tight, and his chest aches because how could he fit? Where would he fit? The two earth dragons had been together for so long they had forgotten what it was like to be alone, and yet…
And yet they had invited him to join them.
(He still was not sure if he was allowed. If he should be allowed. They were both so beautiful.)
"You’re thinking too much," Azhdaha yawned, groping for his glasses and sliding them on as he gave Neuvillette a sleepy stare. "Well? What are you waiting for?" His gaze was warm, if drowsy, warming Neuvillette down to the bones from the sweetness of it.
"I’m not sure where to fit," Neuvillette answered quietly, gaze fixed on how Morax instinctively shifted with Azhdaha as he moved, half of a whole.
Azhdaha stared at him some more, then unceremoniously shoved Morax off of him with a yelp from the smaller of the earth dragons.
"Azhdaha," Morax said crossly, sitting up from where he’d fallen from where he had been half-sprawled over his husband's chest. "I was comfortable—"
"You were taking up so much space poor Neuvillette thought he couldn't fit in our arms." Azhdaha raised an eyebrow, an amused smile touching his lips. "As if we cannot simply make room for him."
(The way they said his name was nothing short of breathtaking. They had tripped over the unfamiliar syllables at first and laughed, struggling to shape the sounds of his name with their tongues, but once they had gotten it right they would say it over and over as if to taste it. Neuvillette from their lips was different from Monsieur Neuvillette back home, rich and lilting with intonations in odd places but oh, did they taste his name like it was a privilege.)
"You don’t have to," Neuvillette tried, hands tightening on the hem of his nightshirt. "You have been together for so long—"
"We are not afraid of change." Morax's voice held a hint of apology, something like remorse in his golden eyes. "There is room. There will always be room for you, Neuvillette."
"Are you certain—oh!"
A part of him hadn’t truly believed them when they had told him they wanted him just as much as he wanted them. It felt almost unreal to him at the time—too good to be true.
Morax of Liyue, with his rich brown scales and golden eyes, with the power to raise the mountains and lower the seas on a whim.
Azhdaha of Nantianmen, a lord, no, a king in his own right, his body the land beneath their feet and the leylines his vitality.
And they wanted him? Neuvillette of Merusea, a dragon who…what? Made decisions that never were the final say? Made it rain, when he wept?
Compared to them he was nothing at all.
But as he fell into their waiting, patient arms, Azhdaha's gentle tug on his collar enough to make him stumble onto the bed, they did as they had promised.
They made room.
A clawed, stone hand sleepily smoothed down his hair, making sure his sensitive, flexible horns weren’t getting crushed. A flowering tail, blossoming in all the colors of love, wound around his leg to keep him in place.
Perhaps living beings didn’t have to be puzzle pieces after all, immutable, changing shape only with damage.
How could they be?
Morax and Azhdaha still fit together as stones should, but Neuvillette was water, and found his home in the cracks and crevices they had lovingly left for him.
His cheek on a broad chest, hair tickling his neck, a chin on his shoulder.
Arms around his waist.
(They were beautiful. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that they found him beautiful in return.)
Perhaps, in time, Neuvillette would feel like he had always been with them.
For now, he was content to close his eyes, and dream.