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The dark hum of politicians speaking mixes with the cheery clatter of cutlery, dim lighting casting shadows upon their faces. Thoma stands unabashed and silent in the corner, ready to step in, if anything in the banquet goes awry by the slightest bit.
Someone tips their cup over and spills tea over the carpet, and he moves forward to assist, but another comes up to him, striking up a conversation about the Shogun. Thoma glances at one of the other staff members, an older woman in her forties, and he gets an affirmatory nod of her head in return. She'll take care of the mess. Thoma engages the man, a low-ranking official interested in making connections.
It's a simple conversation until the official badmouths a member of a clan louder than he should, catching the ear of Masahito. This official won't attend another banquet of this magnitude, Thoma thinks, as he gives a vague response and feigns business to escape the conversation, leaving the General to deal with the other man as he pleases.
Thoma settles back in another corner. Within two minutes, the man has promptly left the party, and General Masahito is situated back where he was earlier. Whether he departed out of fear or insult, Thoma gives no second thought to it. A low-ranking official who does not know his place will not be missed.
Thoma stays as such, flitting to and from various obligations, fulfilling his role as housekeeper. Hours into the banquet, it draws closers to dawn and further from eve, and all that remains are the dregs of socialites seeking to converse with Ayato, or those too drunk to travel home. Always, with no exception, a problem to deal with. There was a single pot upon which all these people gathered, steaming the room with a humid stench. Thoma is less concerned about the cleanliness of the event now, with most of the guests gone and a slurry of servants rushing to fix the hall, but the platters of half-eaten courses circled around Ayato and the others piques Thoma's interest.
When he tilts his head and catches the daughter of a politician drop a mound of pickled squid alongside two globes of dango, into the pot, Thoma gets it. They're playing with their food. He presses his lips to prevent a grimace. Not because of the waste, but because of the mess, and he would've walked away from it if not for Ayato raising his head and calling him right then.
"Thoma, do you want to eat something?" Ayato asks, stirring the nearly inedible amalgamation of simmering food. An ominous, oily bubble ascends from the semi-liquid mass and pops right next to what seems to be a piece of red bean cake.
"No, thank you." Thoma says politely, pressing his lips together in an uncomfortable smile, not in the mood to pretend to survive whatever slop of unseasoned meat and over-marinated pastries his master had combined to make this rather unsavory-looking dish in front of everyone else.
"Just try, will you?" Ayato insists. Thoma would've refused again, but that politician's daughter looks to her father, whispering something about a trade deal. It would do no good to refuse, to shame his master in front of these people. Thoma groans inaudibly, and takes the spoon from Ayato, gingerly swallowing it, trying not to pucker at the taste. A collective laugh emanates from the others gathered around.
"See, that wasn't so bad, was it, Thoma?"
Thoma smiles contritely and Ayato's pleasant demeanor falls.
"Indeed, Master." Thoma takes his leave, bowing his head to all involved, but not before he brushes past Ayato's shoulder, whispering discreetly:
"We'll talk about this over dinner ."
...
"Another." Thoma orders, as the commissioner tries to swallow another gulp of cum from the bowl held to his lips.
"I-I can't." Ayato whispers, pained. His breathing is labored, and his stomach is full, his jacket on the floor, and his lips dripping with white. A whine filters through his gritted teeth as he catches Thoma tightening his grip on the remote that controls his shock collar.
"Oh? But I thought you were looking forward to eating with me, Ayato." Thoma hums. It's dry. Rich of Ayato to just put Thoma in a situation where he couldn't refuse, only protest when the favor was returned.
"I was, but I'm full now." Ayato says, a slip of the liquid dribbling from the corner of his mouth. Thoma lowers his gaze, meeting Ayato's eyes - clicking his tongue as he presses a button on the remote.
Ayato screams - a loud, wailing noise that sounds as needy as it is pained. Tears fall and dark puddles form where they land on the table's wood. He stops at certain intervals, when Thoma halts the current, but resumes when he restarts. The only thoughts running through Ayato's head are apologies, variations of "I'm sorry" and a few other whimsical pleas for mercy that will not be heeded. When Ayato's eyes start to unfocus, unable to see the patterns on the table anymore, that's when Thoma stops shocking him.
"Wrong answer." Thoma frowns. "Keep eating."
Thoma observes. Observes with a gaze so high and mighty that he seems almost archon-like in nature, subtracting all the benevolence expected of one. If Thoma was a deity, he'd be a cruel one, but Ayato is his willing subject. A hurt noise filters from Ayato's lips, but he uses his tongue to lap up the dredges of semen that lie at the bottom of the bowl. This is the second one he's been made to eat. He doesn't know where Thoma obtained so much, but Ayato knows for sure that not all of it is his. Shame pools in his throat, right where the cum settles before dropping into his stomach.
Ayato loves it.
"Thoma-"
"Call me Master." He orders, standing tall over Ayato, patting his head mockingly. There is no other emotion Thoma could have displayed, not when Ayato is seated by the table, shirt misaligned and unbuttoned, pants off. Ayato has been dripping with arousal. He has been eating cum at his servant's order. He is pathetic. There is no other emotion to be displayed, other than mockery.
"Master," Ayato says, tilting his neck and touching his head to Thoma's hips, breath hitching as it nears his dick. "Please." His intent is clear.
Thoma stares down at him and his begging mouth. "Why should I?"
Ayato has no reply to that. He'd embarrassed Thoma- no, Master. It's Master, because the angry, domineering way he scowls down at Ayato deserves no title below that.
"You can't finish your food, you can't obey properly, can't even stay quiet like the good whore you're supposed to be." Thoma presses his bulge right against Ayato's cheek, setting the bowl of semen onto the table and gripping Ayato's hair. "Are you sure this is what you want?" He breaks character for a bit, eyes hovering over every inch of Ayato's expression to ensure his well-being.
"Yes. Master, I need it, please ."
There's the green light.
"Then finish your food." Thoma snaps back, letting go of Ayato's hair and shoving him in the general direction of the bowl. "Or you're getting nothing."
With renewed vigor, Ayato's tongue laps at the liquid, head dipping like an unfed dog, He makes a visible gulp with each drop he takes down, eyes darting at Thoma for approval. "Just like that." Thoma acknowledges Ayato, stroking the man's hair the same way one would stroke a tiny, helpless, animal. Ayato might be far from that, but right here, right now, he is nothing more than Thoma's possession.
It hurts and he's full. He'd already eaten enough from the banquet and a whole bowl of cum is stuffing him up like prey for Thoma. One lick. One more lick. It still hurts his stomach, but he's finishing his food.
"Would you look at that?" Thoma says when Ayato swallows the last drop. "You can be good."
"Cock." Ayato murmurs. It wouldn't be something he'd say normally, but he was too far gone. "Give me your cock, please, master."
"Already begging for me to ruin you?" Thoma raises an eyebrow. He smiles, and for a second, his teeth show. He slips his fingers under Ayato's chin, smooth skin in contact with his calloused hands. He tilts Ayato's head up.
"Undress me."
Hastily, hurriedly, Ayato opens his mouth, teeth pressing on the hem of Thoma's pants and boxers, bringing them down and meeting his already half-hard cock. Fuck. Finally, he places his hands on Thoma's hips, engulfing his dick in his mouth, the heady taste of pre-cum making Ayato dizzy with arousal.
This earns him a slap on the face.
Withdrawing, Ayato presses his palm to the cheek Thoma had hit. It stings. He fucked something up. "Master," He gulps, hands still on Thoma's hips, though they tremble. "What did I do wrong?"
"Did I say you could put it in?" Thoma questions, placing his hands around Ayato's nape, stroking his skin, marked with so much evidence of their times together. Bite marks from a heated session in the bath when Thoma had pounced on Ayato and asked him for a quick one. Fading bruises around his neck because of the time Ayato wanted to try something new and begged Thoma to fuck him like a ragdoll while choking him.
When Ayato does not respond, Thoma presses the button that activates the shock collar.
"You didn't answer the question. Did I say you could have a taste?" He asks as Ayato clutches at his neck, screaming in agony from the electricity. Always so loud. Thoma has no idea how the servants haven't told everyone what a sodomite their master was. Maybe hush money. Maybe he spread his legs for them too, seducing them along with their silence.
"No, you didn't." Ayato babbles when the shock ends. "It's my fault. This is my fault, I'm sorry."
Thoma clicks his tongue and takes Ayato by the hair.
"Stay still." He orders, placing the head of his cock on Ayato's cheekbone. Thoma leaves it there for a second, letting the pre-cum leak down from Ayato's cheek to his chin. Leaving it right within reach. Archons, his cock is big enough to shadow Ayato's entire face - enough to fill his entire throat and more, and enough to make a bulge in Ayato's stomach when he fucks him.
Ayato's breathing grows heavy.
"Not yet." Thoma says. He takes his dick, and puts it on the other cheekbone, smearing the remnants of pre-cum all over Ayato's face. Painting him pretty. Painting Ayato as his. When Thoma puts the head again at Ayato's lips, the commissioner positively drools in anticipation.
"Please." He mouths against the tip.
Thoma scoffs. "This coy mouth has coaxed so many to pander to the dealings of the Kamisato clan, but now it's serving me." Thoma takes Ayato's chin. "Lick. Lick like the fucking slut you are."
Ayato obeys, tongue immediately draping itself over Thoma's cock, cheeks stained with pre-cum. He doesn't take it down his throat, as much as he wants to, because Thoma hasn't let him yet. Ayato is more docile now, eyes half-lidded as he serves Thoma. One lick down the shaft. Another lick up, and hands caressing the underside. A kiss at the tip, one that has Thoma's cock twitching in appreciation.
"Is this what you wanted all along?" Thoma scoffs as Ayato practically makes out with his dick, kissing and drooling all over the length. Ayato's eyes are pleading as he glances up at him, pressing a kiss to Thoma's thighs and using his hands to play with his balls. Thoma grits his teeth to stifle a moan. "If you want this so much, I guess I have no choice but to comply. Go ahead and have a taste, Ayato."
Ayato positively shoves himself down Thoma's cock, a muffled whine of pleasure making it past his stuffed throat. His hands fondle what he can't reach, and Thoma strokes his hair. Goodness' sake. The idea of his cock being too big for Ayato is thrilling, but Thoma knows that it's not the case.
"You take my cock up your ass all the time," Thoma says, hands reaching down to stroke Ayato's jaw. "Why can't you take it up your throat?" Ayato doesn't respond. He knows he's not allowed to, so he just swirls his tongue around the tip and plays with what his mouth can't fit.
Thoma clicks his tongue and whistles, threading his hand through Ayato's hair and tightening his grip. "Good boy."
Slowly, but surely, Thoma forces his cock down Ayato's throat, earning him a good, long moan from the head of the Kamisato clan. A slow, experimental, thrust inside is followed by a similar one out, and it gets faster and faster until Ayato is drooling, eyes rolling back the way Thoma likes it, but Ayato loves it. The noises he makes when Thoma starts thrusting into his mouth, balls slapping against his chin, fuck. Ayato would kill to deepthroat Thoma's cock. The veins, the taste of heady pre-cum on his tongue, the way Thoma facefucks him like he doesn't give a shit about that inevitable sore throat the next day.
"Fuck, you always know what I want. So tight and good for me, hm?" Thoma says. Ayato knows he'll have a horrible voice after. He knows that everyone will be concerned, offer him medicine, and ask if he's fine, but he'll simply ignore it and beg Thoma to fuck his throat again when he's in the bath. Or his ass. Or his tits. He doesn't care, but he'd prefer the second.
"You love this, don't you?" Thoma scoffs, stepping on Ayato's cock, which elicits a muffled scream. "You love being fucked like a whore. Being fucked like you're not a clan head. Like you don't have dozens of diplomats proffering up their daughters to you. Pop out a few heirs for them, no?" Thoma takes his hands out of Ayato's hair and puts them on his throat. Not choking him, but admiring the lump in Ayato's throat, stroking it, feeling how the flesh stretches to accommodate him. "But you're not sleeping with anyone special." He grinds his foot down, and he can feel Ayato squirt a bit of pre-cum for him, hands holding Thoma tighter. "You're begging each night for your servant to dick you down. Everywhere. Every way. What will they think about their revered clan head when they find out he can't live without cock?"
Under his boot, Thoma feels Ayato's cock twitch, and to be merciful, he presses his boot down on it a little harder.
"Such a good, tight hole for me. It's a shame you've only got a single proper one down there, but this mouth makes for a good pussy. Self-lubricating, even, with the way you start to drool with just the idea of my cock." Thoma wipes away a tear on Ayato's cheek, even as the commissioner nods his head up and down, agreeing with his servant's words. He is a good hole for Thoma. He will always be a good hole for Thoma. Ayato loves Thoma's cock. Ayato loves how Thoma's cock makes him feel.
Those thoughts have Ayato cumming underneath the pressure of Thoma's boot, moaning loudly through the cock in his throat.
Ah, that's enough to make you cum, isn't it?" Thoma scoffs, still applying force to Ayato's quickly overstimulated cock, getting the man to start flat-out crying. "Do you want me to stop, Ayato?"
And Ayato nods no. He shakes his head side to side vigorously, before pushing his own head down, still sobbing at how good his cock hurts underneath Thoma and Thoma understands . This is what Ayato wants. And maybe it's a good thing because, at the end of each day, Ayato is but a receptacle for his frustration, just as Thoma is a catalyst for the commissioner's pleasure.
"Fuck, I'm close too. Keep your mouth open just like that. Gonna cum on your pretty face." Thoma grunts, the speed of his thrusts picking up. Oh, Thoma loves it when Ayato sits there all perfect for him and just lets him do whatever. That's all Ayato needs to do, really. Be good. Be obedient. Each time Thoma thrusts in Ayato's mouth, he feels the commissioner's throat constrict, milking him for all he's worth. The pressure in Thoma's stomach builds, and one more push into that sweet throat of Ayato's is enough for Thoma to pull out and spill all over Ayato's face, coating it in cum.
And even then, Ayato chases with his hand, stroking it down, making sure to get every last drop. What spills off his chin is caught with the other, and the commissioner laps from the pool that gathers there. It takes Thoma a good while before he comes down from his high, taking his boot off Ayato's cock.
"You're such a good fuck, Ayato." Thoma sighs, watching as he slurps up all the cum on his face, even going so far as to lick his fingers clean of it. "Did you do that just to rile me up, huh? To get me to make a mess of you?"
Ayato is still in his own little world, eyes focusing and unfocusing as he idly sucks on his fingers, looking up at Thoma. Still shaking from how good it feels.
"What?"
"Earlier. At the party." Thoma says.
"I didn't do anything wrong, master." Ayato looks up at Thoma with glazed eyes, almost innocently. Almost as if he actually means it.
Thoma grunts, and threads his hands through Ayato's hair, cock hardening once again. "So you still haven't learned your lesson."
Whether Ayato learned something or nothing that night depends on whether he thought being pounded into the floor like a whore was educational.