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It all started with an impromptu cooking class.
Ayaka’s birthday was a few days ago, and Ayato wasn’t there to celebrate. That was no uncommon occurrence, but he still felt bad, even after years and years of hearing his sister say her greatest gift was seeing her brother back home, safe and sound, no matter which day it was. He brought it up with Thoma later, a bit absent-mindedly, while drafting a document. Thoma, ever the fixer, said maybe he could help. He told Ayato about how much love is needed to cook a single dish, and, even with Ayato’s horrendous skills in the kitchen, Thoma could still find him a feasible dish his sister would love. In fact, Thoma said, they should go to the kitchen that very evening so he could teach Ayato an easy, “foolproof” dish even he could make without setting the premises on fire.
Ayato agreed, thinking Thoma underestimated him a lot, apparently.
There they went, and everything started very smoothly, in fact. Despite Ayato’s best efforts, it was hard messing up under Thoma’s diligent aid. He wouldn’t let Ayato handle the knives, only the pans, and soon Ayato was only watching while Thoma cut vegetables with his skillful hands. Big hands. With big, plump fingers. With a few cuts and burn marks. Hands that had a very strong grip on carrots and tomatoes. And could probably grip Ayato just as hard.
That was the train of thought that had Ayato lie on his futon hours later, after they put the dish - whatever it was - in the oven, thinking about the many ways Thoma’s hands could be better employed than in housework. They could pull his hair gently. No, they could pull his hair roughly, as Ayato’s hair was supposed to be pulled, so Ayato would face Thoma properly and they could kiss. That thought made Ayato shiver from head to toe, and he pulled his own hair, in lack of a retainer to perform that duty. A pleasured sigh escaped his lips.
Those hands could travel up and down Ayato’s body, leaving their warmth all over, tongue following closely. (Ayato now fondled his own nipples, caressed his own thighs, ran his hands up and down his own neck.) They could choke him, if Thoma wanted that. (Ayato surely wanted, and he also did that, lightly at first, and then more strongly, also choking a moan. His nails grazed his neck, and he thought Thoma could scratch him too.) They could manhandle him without an ounce of tenderness and get him to whatever position Thoma saw fit. (For now, Ayato got himself in the position he saw fit: face down, ass up, all his weight on his chest, both hands still free to emulate Thoma’s as best as they could. Which was not good enough, but one can’t always get what one wants.) Those big, heavy hands could spread his ass cheeks so Thoma would explore him with his tongue, and eventually, put his cock inside him and rail him so roughly Ayato would feel his soul leaving his body with every movement, and it would be so, so delightful. (Ayato’s cock twitched, painfully ignored until that point, and one of his hands traveled to stroke it while the other grabbed one of his ass cheeks, spreading it as much as he could, only able to imagine Thoma working him from behind.)
It was not the first time Ayato got off to the thought of Thoma, to be quite honest. Especially in his late teenage years, it was even usual for him to imagine the housekeeper and himself… in several scenarios. Those, however, were usually more innocent: heated kisses at the beach, frisky hands looking to squeeze his butt, maybe bites on the neck and shoulder, but never that hard, strong pounding Ayato so desperately rocked his hips to emulate, as if he could manifest a rock hard Thoma to fuck him until he forgot his own name. Those thoughts were a more recent occurrence, and Ayato would normally pinpoint them as just him being stressed out and horny, but it was weird, and even funny, how those fantasies were not generic; they were directed to Thoma, and Thoma only. Something about getting the loyal and gentle retainer to be feral and disrespectful to him set Ayato aflame, and he loved that feeling.
On that specific night, Ayato’s imagination graced him with such vivid fantasies he could almost feel Thoma’s touch, those hands that drove him crazy on his butt and hair, hips thrusting violently against his, dick stretching him out so deliciously. Ayato couldn’t possibly hold his moans, especially when Thoma’s name tasted so sweet on his tongue and sounded so depraved on his sex-crazed mind. He knew the guards could possibly overhear, but he didn’t care. Maybe if they ratted on Ayato, he could get Thoma to fulfill his fantasies sometime.
When his orgasm approached, Ayato felt his legs tremble and give out, so he switched positions quickly, laying on his back. He couldn’t reach so deep inside himself like that, but teasing his hole and stroking his cock did it for him, and soon enough, he was spilling all over himself, screaming Thoma’s name, eyes shut in pleasure, a huge smile on his face. That was so, so good. It was a shame he could only dream of the real thing and how wonderful that could be. For now, and maybe forever, Ayato would just lay on his futon, belly covered in his own cum, a huge smile plastered on his face after one of the best orgasms of his life, sponsored by his housekeeper and childhood friend of all people. He tried steadying his breath, wondering what Thoma would think of him if he knew. He sighed, and that was when he noticed someone else’s hitched breath in the room.
His heart stopped for a second.
Oh, well. It was one of the servants. Maybe one of the guards, even. They would certainly understand the situation of their sexually frustrated, terribly stressed commissioner. There was absolutely no problem in rubbing one off before sleep. They would understand, yes. Surely. And Ayato would also reprimand them for not announcing their presence, or for not leaving immediately. Yes, he would do that, and that was how he would regain control. Very well. With that in mind, Ayato opened his eyes and faced the intruder.
It was Thoma.
His heart stopped for what seemed like a whole minute this time.
“My lord,” Thoma started, and Ayato barely listened, because his mind was screaming, “Did he hear?”. “I– I announced myself, and you said my name, so I thought– I thought I could enter. I’m sorry–”
He had heard it, then.
Fuck.
Fuck, Ayato. Think. You’re so good at doing that.
Oh, yes… Thoma entered when he heard Ayato say his name. Alright, that part was understandable - but why… Why had he stayed to watch his Lord spill cum all over himself and then lay in bliss and intoxication for a lingering moment? Thoma was so good at sensing when Ayato and Ayaka needed their moments of privacy, and then gifting them those moments like mementos of their friendship. It was out of character, really. Unless…
A small, mischievous smile took residence on the corner of Ayato’s mouth.
“Thoma,” he said, and despite feeling his face burn, Ayato knew he had the most shameless look in his eyes. “Do not fret. It was an honest mistake, wasn’t it?” The smile spread out, and now Ayato’s face was contorted in mischief and a twinge of desire. “But, you see, I made quite a mess of myself. Would you help me clean it?”
Thoma choked. “Excuse me, my Lord?”
Ayato chuckled, and his voice assumed a more commanding tone. “Clean me, Thoma.”
Thoma nodded, but didn’t meet Ayato’s eyes, and went to the annex room where Ayato usually washed up to fetch a few wet cloths. He mumbled an apology while kneeling beside Ayato and gently rubbing one of the cloths against his Lord’s dirty and sticky skin. Ayato inhaled deeply at the touch: it was close enough to where his dick now rested, and he was still so sensitive, and he had such a perfect view of Thoma’s hands from that angle… Damn, those hands would be his demise. He was totally asking Thoma to bathe him every day from now on, lest he would die from starvation or something like that.
“Thoma,” he started, and his voice trembled slightly when the housekeeper’s fingers grazed his skin, a little too gentle and slow for his own taste, almost purposefully teasing. “If you saw me, why didn’t you join?” Ayato asked, his face burning with shame, his heart burning with desire. “You heard your name. You knew you were invited.” Now Thoma stopped cleaning him, and Ayato propped himself on his elbows, looking at his housekeeper’s face. The blond still didn’t meet his eyes. “You don’t… want to?”
“That’s not it, my lord.” Wow, that was a quick response. “I’m your servant. I couldn’t possibly.”
“That’s a terrible excuse,” Ayato said, his eyes traveling down Thoma’s neck and torso, all the way to his crotch. He welcomed another smile upon realizing Thoma was as hard as Ayato expected him to be. “Especially when you are clearly excited.” He now sat up and leaned into Thoma, bringing their faces impossibly close to each other. Thoma let out a breath, and Ayato felt it on his nose bridge. “If you don’t want this, you can tell me now.”
Thoma said nothing. Ayato’s eyes glinted and he sealed their lips together.
Thoma kissed as he served: gently at first, as if feeling out his Lord’s wants and needs, and then deeply, devotedly, making Ayato feel like he was the only person in the entire world. Still very sensitive and trembling slightly, Ayato caught on fire immediately when Thoma put one of his hands on his back to steady him. Everything happened too quickly after that: they were kissing, then Thoma was biting his neck, kissing his shoulders, sucking on his nape (when was it that Thoma changed positions so Ayato was facing the other way?), licking his back, those big and warm hands were palming his entire body, putting him on all fours, fingers pressing against his hips, cock pressing against his entrance, and they were fucking like two animals in heat, just the way Ayato had imagined. Even better, though. Thoma was so terribly hot and warm in all ways imaginable. He was a bit rough and desperate, but also gentle and caring, and every touch, every thrust, made that so obvious. Ayato rested his cheek against the futon, trying to rock his hips against Thoma’s dick, urging him to go even deeper, even harder, to treat him even rougher; he wanted Thoma to let go of the gentleness, to destroy him, to leave him totally obliterated.
Thoma put one of his delicious hands on Ayato’s back and pressed him against the futon slightly, and just like that, his cock hit a point previously undiscovered. Ayato screamed so loud he probably woke a tanuki up at Chinju Forest - and, even though he didn’t care for gossip, it would be better if the servants didn’t listen in their desperate fuck session, so the Lord had the courtesy to stuff two of his own fingers in his mouth to stop the screaming. It was not so effective, given he was still making loud and lewd noises, but at least they were muffled. Apparently, though, Thoma got jealous, and quickly moved the hand on his Lord’s back to replace the fingers in Ayato’s mouth with his own. Just like that, Ayato found pure happiness: under Thoma, being thoroughly fucked, sucking on two of his lover’s fingers, listening to their harmonized orchestra of moans and muffled screams.
They picked up the pace a bit and Ayato was on the edge. He was so, so close. So close. So cl–
And then, Thoma pulled out.
“Why did you stop?” Ayato asked, and despite shaky, his voice sounded incredibly demanding. He could think of few times in his life he was this frustrated.
“I was overwhelmed.” Thoma sounded breathy, lightheaded, as though he would faint at any moment. “I need a minute.”
Ayato buried his face on the futon and muffled a scream - only this time, it was a frustrated one. His fantasies never included a moment in which Thoma got “too overwhelmed” and needed “a minute”. What was this? Was he supposed to be patient now? With both of them in full mast, balancing on the edge of orgasm? Why was it so hard to be fucked by the man of his dreams? He could rub himself, but he wanted to come on Thoma’s cock, and, more importantly, he wanted Thoma to come inside him. The only possible outcome for that situation was Thoma filling Ayato up until he leaked. There was no alternative.
But, well… he could tease a bit, couldn’t he?
“Thoma…” Ayato said, with a small voice, only a whisper. “Thoma~♡” he added, almost a moan now. “Look.” Still holding all his weight on his face and collarbones, Ayato brought his hands to his ass cheeks and spread them, wiggling around slightly. He couldn’t see Thoma from that angle, but he was sure the blond was looking at him. Where else would he look? “Do you see how empty I am without you?” His voice was drizzled in honey, the most erotic sound he could make without being touched. “I want you inside me, Thoma.” He dragged the vowels purposefully, moaning the last one, and licked his lips before speaking again. “I need you inside me. Come on, Thoma. I want you to fill me up. Fuck me as hard as you can, and don’t pull out this time. I want your cum leaking from me, I want–”
His hazy speech was rudely interrupted by Thoma grabbing his wrists and pulling them back, forcing Ayato to arch his back on an angle that would normally hurt a lot. This time, thought, he didn’t even feel it, because all his senses were focused on Thoma’s cock going in and out of him again, strong and deep, hitting that delicious spot every time. The retainer soon let go of Ayato’s wrists to grab him by the hip with one hand and bring the other to his Lord’s head, pulling his hair and forcing Ayato to breathe into the futon. That was surprising, but also wonderful, and soon enough Ayato was coming, a screaming and drooling mess. He was still riding his orgasm when he felt Thoma’s cum fill him up, and the blond fucked Ayato through his own orgasm, for the Lord’s absolute delight. They spent a couple of minutes panting together, the last remnants of ecstasy brushing over their bodies and minds, Thoma hunched over Ayato, until he pulled out. Ayato collapsed immediately without Thoma’s support, a trembling, oversensitive mess, Thoma’s cum leaking out his hole, his own dirtying his belly and chest, sweat plastering his hair to his face, drool spilling from the corners of his mouth.
Just like he imagined.
The silence stretched out while they caught their breaths, and Ayato felt suddenly hungry and sleepy. Mostly sleepy. He was almost drifting into slumber when Thoma’s shaky voice brought him back.
“I think I will need to clean you up again, my lord.”
Ayato heard the hint of mischief in his words, a tone only his ears, trained to Thoma, would catch that easily. He smiled.
“Yes,” he answered, still not opening his eyes. “I guess you will.”