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Ayato is no stranger to perverse pleasures. Passive-aggressive remarks. Subtle practical jokes. Watching people squirm in discomfort as he strings them along for a trip to a weird restaurant. And if it could be considered perverse, taking a long, leisurely stroll around the estate after finishing writing biting reply letters to every sleazy merchant who’d thought to send dolled-up monetary requests his way.
This one is different from all the others that he describes to the traveler and to Ayaka. This one is different. This perverse pleasure, he saves for himself, when he’s cleared the estate completely of all other housekeepers, when the heavy curtains drape over his windows and when the grounds are silent, save for the little noises that slip past Thoma’s lips.
Ayato grins, just a little bit. “Do you want another?”
Thoma whines, already so desperate just from having two of Ayato’s fingers in him. “Y-yes, please, my lord,” he begs.
He’s so perfect like this, spread out on Ayato’s bed under the lamplight, surrounded by decorative pillows, swathed in fresh sheets, sakura blush coating his cheeks, a light sheen on his normally pale, now pink, skin from the sweat. His emerald eyes are half-lidded, gaze vague and hazy. His silky blonde hair is all messed up, sprawled across his pillow; Ayato hums in satisfaction at how Thoma looks at him, as if Ayato were his entire world, as if he didn’t have any other duties besides being obedient for him.
Ayato is no stranger to perverse pleasures. He’s no stranger to this, either— midnights spent with Thoma under him after a long day of papers and negotiations. On the contrary, he’s rather familiar with all of it, has Thoma memorized like the back of his hand, and yet each time it feels like something new. Each time, the sight of Thoma so ruined and needy, each time, the way his voice comes out hoarse and shaky after he’s been wrecked, sends a thrill down Ayato’s spine. When Thoma looks like that, sounds like that— how could Ayato even dream of denying him what he wants?
Slowly, he works a third finger into his retainer’s hole, stretching Thoma out. His other hand moves to grab Thoma's ass to keep him in place. So sensitive, so reactive, Thoma clenches at the sheets and parts his lips— swollen, from when Ayato had pinned him down and kissed him senseless —in a silent moan. He averts his gaze from Ayato, hiding half of his face in the pillow.
Truly, he’ll never get tired of this.
Ayato admires the way Thoma’s hole flutters under his touch, rim pink and puffy, stretched around his fingers. Thoma whimpers weakly, and Ayato takes the chance to twist his fingers to reach Thoma’s prostate, and Thoma’s little noises escalate suddenly into a full-on sob . “Ah— A-Ayato, sir, too much, ah—” and yet moans tumble out of his mouth anyways, as he pushes his hips down to feel more of Ayato’s long, slender fingers, unable to decide between too much and more please.
“Too much?” He echoes, and retracts his fingers from Thoma’s hole, leaving it empty and gaping, just to watch the way Thoma’s face contorts in panic, eyes wide, as he blabbers and begs.
“No, sir, please— please put it back in,” he pants, each breathless syllable tinged with a hint of despair, “sir, please, need your fingers, need you—”
Ayato ignores him outright in favour of teasing him. “So desperate already, hm?” Ayato hums, tracing Thoma’s rim with his fingers. “We’ve been here, what, just five minutes, and you’re already so needy for my fingers?”
Thoma whimpers at the lewd words, a whispered please escaping him. Ayato only smiles.
“You’d let me finger you open all day, wouldn’t you?”
This gets him a moan, and Thoma whimpers, “Please put them back in, please—”
"Be good," Ayato hums. It's a command.
Thoma repositions his head to nod quickly, silently begging, looking up at Ayato, who wears the tiniest of self-satisfied smirks.
Finally, he slips his fingers back into Thoma’s cute hole, slicked up with expensive lube bought from Fontaine on a business trip, watching in fascination at the way his Thoma's rim contracts, the way his greedy hole sucks him in.
"Ah—hnnngh, th-thank you, my lord, thank you so much,” Thoma hiccups, looking up at Ayato with such fondness, some combination of gratitude and love and lust, that he can’t help but feel his heart swell a little. “So good, sir— ah!” He cries out when Ayato's fingertips brush his prostate with a sharp, angled thrust. “So good, hahh, more, please do it again, right there— right there!” He chants, arching his back so beautifully. His cock, red and oozing precum all over his stomach, sits untouched.
Well, Ayato isn’t about to say no when he begs like that.
“Right here?” He asks, just to be an asshole, and angles his next thrust to hit that sweet spot again, eliciting a sob from the blond under him. “ Mnn, yes, please, do it again—” Ayato feels his own dick straining against his pants, but he can’t be bothered to deal with that yet; after all, Thoma is right here, looking like a dream.
“You’re so cute, pet," he coos, scissoring him open, stretching him out, “so good for me, you’re doing so well.” He smiles down at him,
and Thoma takes that as an invitation to beg even more, letting his pitiful whines and moans fill the room. “Please, I need it, I need it,” he cries.
“What do you need?”
“I need— ah —need your cock, my lord, I need you to fill me, please—”
Thoma lifts his legs even higher, so that his knees are touching his chest, as if presenting his hole to Ayato to take. His cute pet, they haven’t even gotten started and he’s already such a mess. “You need my cock?” Ayato echoes, unable to keep the amused grin off his face, nor the dark, dangerous something glimmering in his normally pure icy blue eyes. “Even when I already have my fingers in your pretty little hole, you still need more?”
Thoma flushes pink, even more than before, parting his swollen lips in a moan, before swallowing and nodding. “I— I haven’t had your cock in so long, I miss your cock, please,” the begs escalate to desperate whines.
That part is true; they haven’t done this in a while. It’s not as if he’s done it on purpose— though it’s adorable when Thoma’s gone so long without Ayato that it makes him all desperate and needy —but one dispute always leads to another, and usually he ends up fast asleep past midnight, too tired from today’s paperwork and anticipating tomorrow’s. He only cracked tonight because he finished his work early and went for a walk, only to run into Thoma, and Ayato ended up pushing the him up against a wall, slotting his thigh between the housekeeper’s legs, and then Thoma was dragging Ayato across the courtyard to Ayato’s room. So, he supposes tonight is his chance to make up for weeks of sleeping alone.
He considers it, fingers stilling, head tilted in mock contemplation. “Do you think you deserve it?”
Thoma nods his head vigorously. “Y-Yes, sir, ‘ve been good, been so good for you, please— h-haven’t touched myself without your permission, been good, been saving myself for you, please, please—”
“This whole time?” It’s been weeks. A month, maybe.
Thoma nods again, and Ayato sees tears welling up in the corner of his eyes. Fuck.
Ayato draws his own fingers back to reach for the lube bottle lying beside Thoma. “Keep fingering yourself open,” he instructs, while he pulls out his own dick to slick it up with lube. He doesn’t want to hurt Thoma, much as he knows the younger probably enjoys the burn.
In the faint, dying flame of the oil lamp, he admires Thoma— his gorgeous retainer, so perfect, with his lean and yet muscular frame, his thin waist, the outline of his body curving so perfectly. Ayato wants him like this forever, and judging from the way Thoma’s face twists in pleasure as he fingers himself open for Ayato’s cock, he’s sure Thoma would choose to stay in Ayato’s bed forever, abandon his duties to be Ayato’s cockwarmer the moment Ayato asks. His obedient, well-behaved slut.
"Are you going to be good and take it?"
"Yes, yes —I-I'll be good— mnng-!"
Ayato grips his dick with one hand to push into Thoma’s pliant, inviting hole, before moving both hands on either side of his hip, watching each little shift in Thoma’s expression; first, eyes wide, before Ayato slowly sinks in, he bottoms out, and Thoma lets out a wail, so, so full, squeezing his eyes shut. Ayato pauses a moment to let his pet adjust, and Thoma instinctively claws at Ayato’s jacket sleeves, holding on like Ayato is his lifeline, like he’d die if he couldn’t touch. At this realization, Thoma moans. It’s humiliating, that Ayato is here, fully dressed, and he’s naked and vulnerable, and completely stuffed with cock.
Ayato moves to grip Thoma’s thighs and spread his legs even further apart, pushing Thoma down into the bed— it hurts and Thoma just knows he’ll find purpling bruises the shape of Ayato’s still-gloved fingers digging into his skin the next morning. There’s that same look in Ayato’s eyes again, that possessive glimmer, and Thoma shudders in anticipation. First, though, because Ayato is a damn tease, Thoma’s already swollen lips are captured in an open-mouthed kiss, Ayato’s tongue meeting his. It’s too soft, too gentle, for what he knows is about to come. Ayato licks into Thoma's mouth, meets his tongue.
When they part, there's a thin strand of saliva connecting their tongues, and Thoma begs, "Please—please, move—"
And then, because Ayato is just like that, he presses a quick, tender kiss to the side of Thoma’s right knee— the closest thing to Ayato’s lips, probably —and asks, “Are you alright?”
Thoma nods twice to be sure, “‘mn good, please move, aahn — want it so bad—”
Ayato hums like he's only contemplating the notion. Like he'd be fine like this, seated deep inside Thoma for the rest of the night, teasing him and using him like nothing but a sleeve for his cock for the rest of the night. He gives an experimental shallow thrust, and Thoma parts his lips to let out a wet moan.
But without warning, Ayato pulls out before slamming all the way back in, tearing a surprised cry from Thoma’s mouth. Precum spurts out of Thoma’s cock at the thrust, and he digs his nails into Ayato’s forearm as Ayato moves his lips to the Thoma’s jugular crevice, first a kiss, then he’s biting, suckling a bruise into his flushed skin. Thoma wails, it hurts so much, it’s too much, too much already, and yet this is everything he’s ever wanted, being held down as Ayato fucks him into the sheets, as Ayato looks at him like Thoma’s just his property, just a toy for him to use. Ayato pulls away to press another quick kiss to his lips, far too tender for the pace that Ayato drills into him at.
He devolves quickly into incoherent babbles, “Ah! —so good! So good, so deep— mnngh, mnf, sir, so good, so good, ahnnn —” he gasps as he tries to rock his hips to the rhythm Ayato’s set, but it’s impossible, it’s far too much and far too fast for him to do anything at all but lay there and take. “A-Ayato— sir , oh archons, pl-please—”
Tears slip down his closed eyes, each thrust ripping a gasp, a moan, a cry, out of him, and when he opens his eyes to meet Ayato’s own, Ayato sees his pet’s dazed expression, eyes rolled back. He’s so out of it. Droplets cling to his long lashes.
On a particularly hard thrust, Thoma’s rim clenches around Ayato’s cock, eliciting a low groan— almost a growl —from the latter before the thrusts speed up, and Thoma’s grasping everywhere, Ayato’s shirt, his neck, the sheets, “ Hnngh! mnn — ah, ah, s-sir, need more, please—”
“More?” Ayato lets out a shaky, breathless groan, “my needy little pet wants more?”
“Please, my lord, please—” he’s drooling, sobbing, his whole world narrowed down to just Ayato and his unfairly huge cock, as his head nails his prostate over and over, drowning him in waves of white-hot pleasure. “More, I need you— need you so bad, mnnghh—”
“You just— hah, hng —want to be ruined, don’t you? Want me to fuck you until you’re ruined for everyone else but me? Until you’re so addicted to my cock you can’t live without it?” Ayato pants, “my pretty cockslut.”
He punctuates those last three words with sharp thrusts, and Thoma wails, dick leaking even more precum all over his stomach at the dirty talk. “ Mnn, my lord, just your cockslut, your slut—" he promises, tears streaming down his face from the overstimulation.
Ayato growls into his ear, and if he had any of that noble composure he normally carried with him left, now it was all shed, as he brought his mouth back to the blossoming hickey from earlier to leave even more. “Do you like this? Being a hole for me to use?”
“Yes, yes, sir, love it, 'm your hole, your cockwarmer, just for you— hnnng— ” Thoma’s whole world spins, tears blurring what he can see of Ayato’s face. It’s so hot, so hot, every part of his body feels like it’s on fire.
“You're mine, aren't you, pet? My property," Ayato hisses, tone dark and possessive.
Thoma makes a noise at the back of his throat, high and needy and beautiful, the yes sir, I'm your property, your pet, I belong to you packed into one syllable, followed by more soft moans and the lewd sound of skin on skin, Ayato's slapping his with each brutal thrust of his hips.
"I should, fuck, get you a collar—keep you on a leash, beneath me, all the fucking time," Ayato groans, and it's so filthy, the words that spill out of the mouth of the normally so composed and polite nobleman that Thoma can't help but shudder around his cock still pounding into him, a sharp sob before he devolves back into senseless moans, drool leaking out of his mouth. There’s something thrilling about being the only person to see Ayato, eyes darkened with a primal sort of lust. Conversely, Ayato admires the mess he's made, knows that he's the only one who can turn Thoma into such a wrecked, barely even lucid mess.
Thoma whines, arching his back to feel Ayato even deeper inside him, feels each one of Ayato’s movements guided by the lube that’s slicked up his hole and there’s so much, so much of everything. With each thrust, a little more saliva drips from the corner of his mouth, a little more precum dribbles out of his flushed and twitching cock—so painfully hard, and yet untouched —to join the puddle and rivulets on his stomach, and Thoma can't do anything but lay there, legs sore already, as Ayato uses him.
Here, Ayato slows down, just a little bit, bracing himself using Thoma's waist, forcing him to spread his legs wider. The feeling of his gloves instead of hands is completely new, foreign, but he likes the way the silky material feels. He presses his lips to the blooming purple love bites he'd given Thoma earlier, ghosting over them and leaving more, trailing down to his collarbone, then moving back up, kissing each bruise, up his neck, tracing his firm jawline with his plush lips before licking into Thoma's mouth, moving one of his hands up to grab Thoma's jaw and push him into an aggressive kiss. Thoma babbles something against his mouth, moans and cries and sobs.
"A-Ayato— sir— nnggh! So deep, s-so much, 's so much—" he chokes out, tears rolling down his face.
Ayato responds with a particularly brutal thrust has him screaming, holding onto Ayato's for his life, Thoma can feel his fingers going numb holding onto Ayato's sleeves, legs kicking—
" Ah-! Hnngh— can't, can't take any more, mnn— wanna come, need to come, fuck, my lord, sir, pl-please—" so fucked out, his begs fade into pathetic, broken whimpers, delirious, the same words on repeat like he’s a broken record.
Ayato speeds up as if on cue. "Come for me," he commands, nails digging into Thoma's flesh through the silk gloves. It's a miracle they haven't torn by now, really. A few thrusts later, Ayato feels Thoma clench down on his cock, arching his back, stilling as cum spills from his dick untouched, all over his stomach. Eyes squeezed shut, wet eyelashes and tearstained cheeks— he's sobbing through his orgasm, trembling and shaking, Ayato still fucking into him, albeit much slower now to coax him through the overstimulation.
Ayato waits for Thoma to open his eyes to speak, hand on his cheek. It's a good ten seconds of nothing but shuddered out gasps and shaky breaths.
"Good pet," he praises, thumbing over Thoma's cheekbone. "I'm going to use your mouth. Just a little more, okay, pet?"
Thoma nods his understanding obediently, and Ayato pulls out briefly— Thoma whimpers at the loss, at feeling so empty —to command him.
"On your hands and knees, facing me." When Thoma complies, letting go of his jacket, he gets "good boy." He cards his fingers through Thoma's long locks, pressing him down to near the edge of the bed. Like this, the puddles of cum that once were on Thoma's stomach drip down, following streams down his body, and it's such a lewd sight.
"Take me into your mouth," he instructs, and Thoma presses a kiss to the slit before taking the head into his mouth to suckle at, covering his length with one of his hands and bracing on the bed with the other, so eager to make his owner feel good. "Fuck— fuck," Ayato's breathes raggedly, grabbing at Thoma's hair.
It doesn't take that much more for him to come with a low groan and a shallow thrust into Thoma's mouth, and then he's pulling back, watching cum spill out of Thoma's lips and Thoma, trying his best to swallow as much of the load as he can. The rest of his trails down his chin, and he catches it with his hands and licks it clean.
It takes ten seconds or more for him to orient himself, but then he's mumbling at Thoma, "You did so well," and Thoma rolls onto his back with some effort, thoroughly wrecked but small grin on his face. Ayato mirrors it. "Was it good?"
"You went really rough, today." His voice is hoarse.
Ayato crawls onto the bed to lie down beside Thoma, holding him in a loose embrace at the waist. "How could you blame me?" He presses a kiss to the cluster of hickeys on his neck, a constellation on skin. "I couldn't resist when I found you in the yard looking like that."
Thoma sighs. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Ayato hums an agreement. "It has been some time."
"I missed this," Thoma admits, with a little huff.
There's a small grin on Ayato's face, and clearly he's still in that post-sex mood where he has no filter whatsoever—or maybe this is just how Thoma makes him feel, free enough to say anything, because he nuzzle his face into his retainer's neck and says, "You missed being fucked so hard you can't walk and need me to pamper you and carry you around all day?"
The memory of Ayato carrying Thoma around the estate to the poorly hidden shock of the other housekeepers suddenly makes its way to the forefront of Thoma's memory, normally so crystal clear, just recovering from the haze known as Ayato that's clouded his brain. "Maybe not the carrying around part," he laughs, "but… mm… yes to pampering."
"Yes to pampering," Ayato murmurs. "I suppose that starts with a bath, doesn't it?" He pulls away to admire the mess he's made, Thoma's lower half practically covered in cum, before swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. "I got it all over my sleeves and gloves, too," he sighs.
Thoma, confident handyman as ever, doesn't give a shit. "Mmn… take them off 'nd I'll send it for cleaning tomorrow."
"If you can walk tomorrow," Ayato corrects, because he's an ass and he can't help it, but he takes it off anyways, along with his shirt and gloves until its just the tight undershirt he wears when they usually sleep together.
"If I can't walk, you'll have to feed me all day."
"Of course." He pets through Thoma's sweat-damp hair with a gentle smile. "Bath?"
"Five more minutes," Thoma insists, closing his eyes and nuzzling into Ayato's touch.
"Of course," Ayato repeats, leaning over to press a kiss to Thoma's forehead. This pleasure, well, if it could be called perverse, was his favourite out of all of them.