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“My lord…” Thoma gasps as the rope fastens around his wrists, held high above his head.
“Shh.” Ayato holds him close, his hand on the blond’s shoulder and the other running down his well-defined chest.“It’s ‘Ayato’ when we’re alone, remember?” He’s almost whispering into his ear with this proximity, coaxing a shiver out of Thoma as slender fingers wander down south.
“Y-Yes, of course… Ayato.”
No matter how many times this has happened before between them, Thoma can’t help the flush in his cheeks as those fingers wrap around his erection, beginning to stroke it into full hardness. He nearly forgets to breathe when the pad of his thumb slides over his leaking tip.
Thoma closes his eyes, forcing all other thoughts away as he focuses on this, this, this — this, as Ayato’s hand works wonders on him; this, as he mouths praise down his navel; this, as Ayato kneels before him and looks up at him with nothing short of lust.
A hot tongue runs over the tip of his cock and he nearly thrusts up into it out of bodily instinct. Nearly. The jolt that wreaks through him is enough to get a chuckle out of Ayato as he grips Thoma’s hips in his hands.
“Be good.”
Thoma inhales a sharp breath as that warm mouth envelops his length, taking him in inch by inch with a sweet moan. Every time he pulls back, his tongue swirls around the tip and sucks ever so slightly before plunging back in, greeting the warmth of his throat.
It’s nothing if not exhilarating. The restraints around his wrist feel as if they are getting tighter. The hands on his hip are a reminder for him to stay still and pliant, but he wants so badly to thrust back. He wants so badly to flip them over so that he may please his lord instead. It’d certainly be kinder than this slow torture on this cock.
(But it feels good.
It’s not enough.
It’s too much)
Thoma lets out a shudder.
Ayato pulls himself off of him, releasing a lewd pop that’s certainly not helping reduce the redness on Thoma’s cheeks. He opts to use both hands to stroke him the rest of the way, muttering, “Are you close?”
It’d be a tease by any other means, but perhaps Ayato was feeling kind today, because when Thoma nods fervently, the young lord opts not to edge him as he goes down on him again, and Thoma wasn’t gonna last any longer, coming with an unrestrained whine.
Ayato takes it as if he’d been dying of thirst.
“Good.” White smears around his lips even as he pulls himself off of it. “Good boy.” He licks the rest of it off, and briefly, Thoma wonders if anyone else has ever thought of Ayato this way.
It had been unfathomable for him until they established this little arrangement, at least.
Kamisato Ayato is very pretty. Thoma thinks he is most pretty like this, with his cum dripping down his chin and kimono dress lazily undone. He wouldn’t admit that to save his life, though, because no one could ever catch the esteemed Yashiro Commissioner as debauched as this.
Thoma is in love with Ayato. That is one of the absolute truths that he knows about himself.
It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s done anything about it.
It’s not that he’s afraid. Well, perhaps he is, but the truth is that Thoma doesn’t really mind not going official with Ayato. He wouldn’t even mind if Ayato didn’t return his feelings at all. After all, being romantically involved with the Yashiro Commissioner just seems like waiting for disaster to befall, and Thoma cares too much about the clan to let that happen for his selfish desires.
Thoma used to be closer to ten-year-old Ayaka than sixteen-year-old Ayato, though he was closer to Ayato’s age. Ayaka was the little sister he never had, and it was easier to get along with someone who wasn’t closed off and buried in clan duties all the time, though Thoma had always held deep respect and admiration for the Kamisato heir as well. He helped Thoma’s Inazuman and calligraphy lessons, and always stood up for him whenever a worker was especially rude towards the half-Mondstadtian.
That was up until the tragedy.
Ayato was depressed for exactly three days and three nights. There was no more time to grief as the next heir of the clan, as affirmed by the Hydro Vision held tightly within Ayato’s palm when Thoma brought food to him that night.
(His eyes wandered towards the blue light. Ayato couldn’t have not noticed. He merely flashed Thoma a tired smile before dismissing him. Thoma had respected his wishes and closed the door behind him, only to listen to the click of the lock as he turned his shoulder and listened to the lonely silence that followed.
The food left uneaten.)
Despite having served him for most of his life, there are things about Ayato that Thoma isn’t privy to. It doesn’t go the other way around. Sometimes, he despises how see-through he is to Ayato.
Who exactly is the enigmatic Yashiro Commissioner? Thoma wishes he could answer such a question. As for who exactly he fell in love with…
He knows. He’s simply too aware of what they are, what boundaries they have crossed and what boundaries they cannot cross. There are invisible borders between him and Ayato that wouldn’t allow him the romance he dreams of on some nights.
“Thoma.” A gentle hand tips his chin up, bright emerald meeting lavender blue. “What are you thinking of?”
He is on his knees this time. Thoma looks up at him like a god’s most faithful devotee as he whispers, “You.”
Ayato smiles. “Forward, aren’t we.”
“I would never lie to you,” Thoma says, leaning into Ayato’s touch as his hand moves to caress a cheek and behind his neck, just where his hairline starts.
“Is something the matter?”
“Not reall– no.”
Thoma cringes at his own choice of words that he had to clumsily cut off. Ayato is nothing if not perceptive and endlessly insightful. He’s sure that he’s well aware of the not-platonic affections Thoma holds for him. Ayato’s lack of response only serves to remind him of his place and stay down.
(Like a good dog.)
Ayato quite enjoys dogs — they’re obedient and loyal. When he told the traveler this, Thoma tries to ignore how Ayato seemed to glance at him with mirth in his eyes, hanging off his tongue.
(He must’ve been dreaming.)
Ayato sighs. “Well then,” he relents on the topic. “Lay on your back.”
He does as told, laying himself on the futon. Ayato climbs on his lap and leans down until they’re mere inches apart, basking in each other’s breath.
“Kiss me,” a whisper.
Thoma does. He would do anything for this man, in between the mingling breaths and dance of tongues until they’re wholly consumed by the heat.
Ayato guides Thoma’s hands to rest at his waist. His glide over Thoma’s chest as they lose themselves to the gentle rocking.
Ayato usually likes it rougher.
Thoma recalls a time, sometime after Ayato had taken over as the clan head, when he’d started running more errands for him and Ayaka as the new Chief Retainer, that a bulky estate guard came up to him and asked him why he, a Mondstadter, would pledge his devotion to Inazuman nobility.
Now that he looks back on it, there was much he could’ve said.
The first and most obvious answer was the one he told him then.
“My lord and my lady saved me. There’s no reason for me not to swear loyalty.”
“Hahahah! That’s funny, so you stick to them because they showed you mercy.”
“...”
The second one, though, it’s as simple as this: the Kamisato Clan has become his family.
He’s sure he sees Ayaka as a sister of some sort. There’s not a moment where they wouldn’t be there for each other and have each other’s back. All of the other retainers are workers are his teammates. Well, some of them can be pretty rude, but he keeps no grudges and keeps friendly terms with most. And Ayato… Ayato is the anomaly.
‘Family’ doesn’t quite cut it, somehow. Has there ever been something greater than family?
He doesn’t know. He’s so far away from home, yet he always remembers his mother’s kindness and his father’s advice. He supposes there’s a separate measure of love than simple labels of status.
And he thinks Ayato is that for him.
Staying by his side and serving him until his dying breath was his oath, and he meant it when he said it to him ten years ago — he still means it now — he just can’t deny that the kind of devotion he held for the young master then and now is different. They were young then.
The truth is that Thoma has been in love with Ayato for so long, he doesn't know how not to be. That love has become a part of him.
Whenever their touches linger after Thoma passes him something, or whenever Ayato’s eyes soften as he smiles and thanks him, or whenever Thoma watches him during formal occasions, how Ayato speaks with dignity but the chaps of his lips are as gentle as the time he uttered those three words to him, he lets himself believe that he could receive love in return.
“What could you possibly offer to the Kamisato house, boy?”
“I’d do anything for the young master and lady.”
He meant that.
Sex comes as a conditional thing for Thoma. He prefers giving rather than receiving. He prefers to be ordered rather than ordering. He doesn’t even mind if he doesn’t gain pleasure as long as his partner does.
He supposes these are the things that have been ingrained into his head ever since he decided to go down this path, choosing to stay with the Kamisato Clan as their retainer rather than going home to Mondstadt, despite them giving him the option to in their most critical moment.
He will never regret not leaving. This is where he belongs, with the people he treasures most.
Sometimes, he’s just unaware of how much they treasure him, too.
“My lord— er, Ayato,” Thoma stutters as they step into the young master’s room. He had just tidied up before Ayato came home. “Are you alright? Please don’t push yourself.”
“Yes, of course I am,” Ayato mutters as he moves to take off his armor and gauntlets, back facing the retainer.
Ayato would do anything but admit he’s tired. Thoma knows, though, but there’s only ever one reason for the young master to call for his presence in his chambers at this time. They’re only able to be intimate with each other when everyone else is asleep, after all.
“...What should I do?” Thoma steps forward, catching the older man in a light embrace, helping him out of the stuffy coat.
Ayato leans back into Thoma’s touch with a sigh. “Take me.”
“Of course. As you wish.”
“And don’t be gentle,” he says, a soft command.
Ah, this is a more familiar Ayato.
Other times, it goes like this: Ayato leads Thoma to the bed, and he is awfully sweet. Sometimes, he opts to be a pillow princess instead of stress-fucking his brains out when he’s tired. Ayato has yet to give him orders, though, and that’s rather unusual.
After all, all they have is an ‘arrangement.’ Ayato would tell Thoma how to please him and Thoma would do just that, then by the end of the night, he would leave and they’d sleep in separate rooms
The Kamisato Clan Head and his Chief Retainer aren’t supposed to be entangled with each other this way. But as Thoma feasts his eyes on perfect skin and the most beautiful man under him, he doesn’t care about that.
“Do what you want, Thoma,” Ayato says, a small smile on his lips. “Be selfish.”
Thoma blinks once, then twice, and he realizes that—
Ultimately, he doesn’t know what he wants. Can he want?
He’s only ever put others’ needs before his own. Now that he’s given such a vague order, he finds himself stumped between what he would want and what his master would want.
“Don’t look so perplexed.” Ayato strokes his cheek, tutting. “You’ve been neglecting yourself for a very long time, haven’t you?”
Once again, Ayato knows more about him than he would like. It makes him feel both comforted and afraid — and he just can’t stand Ayato’s understanding gaze — burying his head in the crook of his neck.
“Ayato, I don’t…”
“How about,” Ayato cuts in. “Instead of letting that mind of yours wander, allow your body to speak for itself.” He guides Thoma’s hand — rough and calloused — to sit on the space just above his heart. It beats steadily under his retainer’s touch. “You can touch me. Anywhere… everywhere...”
Thoma gulps.
“Do what you want. I’m yours.”
He wonders if this is a confession. He wastes no time thinking about it as those words ring through his head.
Do what you want.
Be selfish.
I’m yours.
I love you.
I love you too, he says internally, tilting his head towards Ayato’s nape to plant open-mouthed kisses, relishing in the other’s soft breathing. I love you so much, more than you could imagine. The hand on his chest travels further down, catching on a nipple as he thumbs at it. I’ve loved you for so long in silence. I don’t think I could go a day without loving you.
He wants to say it. He wishes he could say it, but he’s silenced by all the ruin that would come out of their relationship. Even if word of their affair were to get out—
Ultimately, he is not worthy of his love.
It takes everything in him not to bite. Shogun knows the scandal that would occur if people were to notice marks of passion on the Yashiro Commissioner’s neck. It gets very tempting though, as his lips glaze over the smooth, pale skin, leaving kisses all the way.
Thoma reaches for the bottle of oil from Ayato’s bedside as he slicks his fingers up and says, “Will you tell me if it’s uncomfortable?”
“It won’t, but yes.”
Thoma breathes in. “Okay.”
He doesn’t know why he’s nervous. It’s not as if he was an amateur virgin. Far from it, at this point. Something about Ayato baring himself before him rather than taking control as he usually does stirs something utterly raw and carnal in him.
“Please take a deep breath.” He prods Ayato’s hole with two fingers, circling the rim before pushing in, coaxing a long exhale out of the young master.
Be selfish. Be selfish. Be selfish.
Thoma makes quick work of preparation, slicking and stretching him out thoroughly before his fingers are gone and he’s reaching for the oil again to slick up his cock now. The blush on his cheeks deepen as he realizes Ayato’s gaze on him — wholly unreadable, yet he could see the fond amusement in his eyes.
“How do you want me?”
“...Um, may you… turn around? Please?”
“You’re very cute, Thoma.” Ayato reaches up and presses a light kiss on his lips before turning himself over on his stomach. “Anything for you.”
It’s odd how Ayato is asking him how he wants him, but— he’s not opposed to it.
Thoma swallows as he positions himself between his legs, the tip of his cock pressing against the ready rim—
Be selfish. Be selfish. Be selfish.
He bites his lip and thrusts forward, entering easily with a simultaneous moan. No matter how many times they do it, he can’t get used to the feeling, greater than anything he’s ever felt, threatening to consume him.
As he bottoms out, groin pressed against Ayato’s ass, Ayato sighs and snugs comfortably against the pressure. He takes one of Thoma’s hands, gliding over the side of his thigh and towards his navel, where he presses down and Thoma’s eyes widen as he feels something hard.
“Good boy. You’re so deep inside me…”
It nearly makes him lose his mind.
Not yet.
“I-I’ll start moving now.”
Ayato only hums in affirmative as Thoma takes his hips in both hands and pulls himself out to the tip before pushing back in, building a steady rhythm that quickly takes him to overdrive.
Briefly, he recalls that Ayato likes it rough, but he finds utmost pleasure in slowly pulling out until only the tip remains inside, then thrusting all the way as he relishes in the all-consuming warmth. As if they were making love.
(As if they had a chance at love.)
Be selfish. Be selfish. Be selfish.
Ayato practically keens as he bottoms out again and again, hitting his deepest parts. “Good boy, Thoma. Don’t stop.” His hand wanders down to stroke his neglected cock in sync with the steady thrusts.
It was enough. Only this mattered, now, and it doesn’t take Thoma very long until he’s tipping off the edge.
“Ayato, a–ah, can I come?”
“Yes. Come with me, Thoma.”
In the afterglow, Thoma gets off to clean them up as per usual, then he’d bid farewell for the night and leave. This time, as he starts to walk away, Ayato stops him.
“Stay here tonight.”
It shocks him more than it should.
“W-Wait, what if the others—”
“The others don’t matter, Thoma.”
He knows he can’t argue with Ayato. So he relents, sitting beside the young master on his bed. He knows they shouldn’t; he knows it’ll be a disaster; Ayato should know and yet he’s letting it pass for a matter of indulgence. In all of Thoma’s rational mind, he thinks that Ayato has likely thought this through, but then—
“Thank you for indulging me, Thoma,” he whispers. “I love you.”
As Ayato slips into sleep, Thoma does not.
He doesn’t know how much longer they can stay this way.
He supposes it’s time to do something about it.