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Yes, I did make this. No, I do not regret it. And you will (hopefully) not regret reading this fic
There are a lot of components to a relationship. If one is to ask Ahti what he thinks those components are, he will tell you immediately. Common interests, compatible personalities, compatible bodies, and good sex. It’s rare for all components to be fulfilled, Ahti finds, and when one of those components cannot be fulfilled, that becomes a hurdle to be overcome. How people choose to tackle the hurdle, that determines the strength and long-term viability of the relationship.
Ahti never expected being with Ash Sr would be easy, and that was back when Mr Ash had been human. Ash Sr was already sick when Ahti met the man, and so sex was the hurdle. But what Ash Sr might have lacked in energy and health, he made up for with tenacity. One didn’t have to move much if they are handcuffed to the bed, they both found. The limitations didn’t take away from their fucking, as they found a mutual rhythm. Those moments were bliss.
But Ash Sr had passed away, reincarnating as the Oldest House. From flesh he became stone. From words he spoke in shifting walls. The love was still there. Ahti was more than prepared to be with his new lover in this new life and in their new form, but that hurdle reared its ugly head with a vengeance.
Figuring out how to fuck an old man who could barely get out of bed? That was difficult enough. Figuring out ways to fuck your partner when he has been transformed into a building? That’s a new one even for Ahti.
Ahti sits in his office throwing darts at the dart board, alone like usual. Office hours are officially over, but some staff linger to do cleaning or do other tasks. Ahti is not one of those staff though. He’s only here because he lives in the Oldest House, the name the FBC had given the resurrected Theodore Ash Sr.
Ahti has lived with his former partners a long time ago. Living inside your partner though? That’s also a new one for Ahti.
The walls rumble softly. The room expands. A presence fills the air like home.
“Ahti? You’re still here, my good man?”
Ahti grumbles under his breath. He throws another dart. A single 6.
“Are you still mad about last night?”
Yes, last night. It was another attempt at sex. Mr Ash, being a building rather than a man, did not have balls or a dick or a pussy. He was simply cool concrete, an entity in the walls. He could not use the concrete to form a double of his former human self. All that he was able to do was shift the walls that made up his new flesh and body. Make them bigger, smaller, add a window here, add a hole there.
The last one was what they had attempted. A small circular hole extending deep into the concrete wall, smoothed to perfection, resting at perfect hip height. Ahti had thrown his clothes away, thrusted his dick into that tight hole, felt the hole contract, felt the wall melt to better accommodate his body, creating handholds and a head rest, a slight curve to accommodate his belly, a slight heat for Ahti’s pleasure.
Ahti had fucked that hole; pretended it was his lover even though in some way it was and in some way it wasn’t. Mr Ash was a building, but he still had human needs, human desires. Ahti did not want to be an inconsiderate lover, so he kept the pace brutal but steady. The walls croaked and groaned around Ahti. The ceiling shook. Ahti fucked harder, chasing his release while the room constricted inward like a boa constrictor and the hole got a little bit tighter.
“Dirty boy,” Ahti had panted in Finnish. “Come to papa.”
The walls shook like an earthquake. A chunk of the ceiling came down, clipping Ahti in the shoulder.
Today, his shoulder still feels funny. He had it wrapped and bandaged by the nice doctor lady. She even warned him about the ‘building shifts’ and how unpredictable they are, bless her soul. She didn’t believe Ahti when he said he was causing them.
No one ever believes the janitor.
In the real world, the walls occupying the soul of Theodore Ash Sr constrict slightly. “Ahti, I’ve already apologised. I’m sorry I lost control like that, but hey, at least that piece of stone only hit your shoulder. God knows what would have happened if it hit your head.”
“It is no shoulder. It is frustration, vittu.”
“Frustrated? About what?”
“About sex, vittu perkele.”
“Right,” Mr Ash said in that voice that wasn’t a voice. A language only Ahti seemed to understand. “The pleasures of the flesh still eludes me. But that just means you should consider my other proposal. Find another lover to satisfy your physical needs.”
Ahti had given the idea some thought. If any other lover had been transformed like Mr Ash had been transformed—from a human to walls and doors and windows—then Ahti would find another to fuck. There are brothels to visit no matter the place and country; men and women who appreciate the physical without the emotions. Best case scenario, Ahti still has a partner to be a companion for everything except the bed, afloat and adrift in harmony for the daylight, while the nighttime is for cheap thrills with a warm body. The best of both worlds.
Only problem is, Ahti’s never had as good a fuck as Mr Ash. Even as an almost unmoving piece of concrete, without hands to grip and lips to pull, he was still better at sex than almost everybody Ahti has ever slept with. The few exceptions Ahti knows of are too old for the same acrobatics or too dead.
Ahti glances at the walls. He sighs.
“We keep as last resort,” Ahti handwaves. “I no want to leave you hanging, saatana. Every man needs good sex, whether human or concrete. And I make you into concrete.”
“Ahti, we mutually agreed on my resurrection. I chose to take the risk of being reborn as something else, and the lottery stated I was to become the Oldest House. And as for the sex, I don’t care too much if I don’t get any action. Like you said, I’m concrete. I’m no longer human.”
“But you have needs, no?”
The walls rumble. The equivalent of an upset grumble. “It does not matter. The human spirit can endure.” Then it shakes, the closest thing Mr Ash can do to a deep chuckle. “I’m still quite happy to watch.”
Ahti rolls his shoulders, a light shrug. This is why he stayed after everything happened. Mr Ash is always very considerate, more so than Ahti himself. Ahti can handle many things, but not being able to touch himself or others, not able to move like water through streams and observe pretty ducks on the lake? He would rather die. But Mr Ash lives on, content with his new form, content to slither through the walls and observe, only able to communicate with Ahti.
He’s a strong man. That’s why Ahti likes him, even after he turned into a building.
That’s why he’s here, making sure the Oldest House remains clean and proper.
“We need plan. Ideas,” Ahti says.
“First, you rest.” The room contracts lightly. A rectangular block of concrete pushes through the wall and slides Ahti’s chair right up to his ass, making him fall into the seat. The lights begin to dim, the temperature of the room increasing slightly. Just enough to sweat, just enough to convince someone to take their clothes off after a hard day’s work.
Ahti drops the hardware belt to the floor. He undoes the lowermost buttons of his janitor’s jumpsuit and pulls his soft cock out to the air.
Around him, the walls begin to crack, then fuse together. The walls erect themselves to enclose Ahti in a suffocating concrete box. The better for his lover to see and feel.
He can’t keep masturbating like this. Sooner or later he will get bored of this and find his pleasure elsewhere, with Mr Ash or not. But the walls close in, until Ahti can only tilt his head down, gazing down at his own growing cock.
“How’s your shoulder?” Mr Ash asks, his voice surrounding him.
“You are OK,” Ahti says. “Shoulder good to touch.”
The walls enclose around him and press into Ahti’s shoulders. There’s no more light, just the croon of the radio still humming in Ahti’s office outside this concrete box. The heat emanating from the walls gets warmer. If Ahti doesn’t think too much about it, the concrete almost feels like firm human muscle. Like the wandering hands of his once-human lover.
Another day begins, another shift commences. Ahti mops the floors, always nice and shiny, and tries to do his job while he remains alone. Ahti does not feel Mr Ash’s presence yet, but it is only a matter of time. Mr Ash is not omnipresent—he is a ghost possessing the Oldest House, transforming it into the building it is, but he cannot spread himself out too far. There are other tenants of the Oldest House, ones that don’t appreciate Mr Ash’s takeover, but that does not stop him from making his rounds, using his ghostly presence to monitor many rooms at the same time. If Ahti was to make a bet, Mr Ash is probably monitoring the Director’s office.
Northmoor never liked Ahti. Not when Mr Ash was human, and certainly not now when Ahti isn’t part of the staff. Ahti thinks it’s jealousy since he had Mr Ash’s ear. Mr Ash believed it was a mere difference in personalities at first, but even he could not deny Northmoor was going crazy, like a man whose favourite meal is porridge. Any little thing Ahti does, Northmoor scrutinises it, gets angry about it. It’s better not to talk to him. Ahti makes sure to only clean Northmoor’s office when Northmoor goes home, but he needs Mr Ash to let him know. Northmoor has irregular hours as of late.
Today is a quiet cleaning day. He goes to where the current directs him and doesn’t talk to anybody. Quiet is good, and the FBC are too noisy most of the time, especially Mr Ash’s son and that new assistant of his. With quiet and relative solitude, Ahti is able to let his mind drift to the sex issue.
When the clock strikes that Mr Ash’s spirit fills the empty hallway that Ahti is cleaning.
The walls rumble softly. “Northmoor’s in a right mood again.”
Ahti snorts. “Never a good mood. Any mess?”
“Leave it for tomorrow.”
The walls shift again. The door to Northmoor’s office gets swallowed by the concrete. A radio somewhere starts playing.
Ahti goes back to mopping, following the sound of Mr Ash’s disembodied voice.
Most days, Mr Ash guides Ahti to where his services are required, chatting about what he sees and observes from the walls. Lot of people do things behind closed doors during work hours that they shouldn’t. Sex, usually, but also cheating and fraud and a terrible assault on the plumbing. As Ahti mops, blocks of concrete shift and move to create new floors and hallways. Before his eyes, rooms construct themselves to the whims of his beloved. The sight is as impressive as it is a foul reminder of his lover’s fate. Mr Ash might have been human once, but now he is a building, a ghost in the walls. Ahti will never feel those chapped lips mark his shoulder, will never feel that steadying hand on his chest, will never know the joy of sharing saliva and bodily fluids, of Mr Ash’s worn and warm body.
The clocks chime that it’s closing up time, which means down to get the grog into his system and drink until the night is over and the next day’s shift starts again. Ahti puts his mop away and makes the long winding journey back to his office. Mr Ash twists the hallways to his command, blocking out unnecessary rooms and creating a path for Ahti to follow back. Any moment, Ahti will get back home, and if he’s lucky he gets to drink and sleep and try to hang onto Mr Ash’s good nature for a bit longer.
Today however, the route is different. Instead of curving to the left, it’s leading Ahti right and up, to a sector of the Oldest House Ahti doesn’t recall ever visiting before. Mr Ash, normally a chatterbox at the best of times, is unusually quiet. He’s guiding Ahti the wrong way.
“Where you take me?”
“About the sex issue. I might have a solution if you’re up for it. Oh, but I forgot to ask if you were interested in trying tonight. My apologies.”
“Eh. I follow, I follow. The brave will eat the soup, says Ahti.”
“Bravery is right, my good man. This will be…unusual.”
“Eh? How?”
“You will see, Ahti. Let’s just say this requires the combination of both our abilities.”
Curiosity piqued, Ahti follows the carefully constructed hallway to its end, a singular door in a section of the building Ahti doesn’t recall visiting. He opens it to reveal a large empty room with a gigantic pool in the center. There are lifeguard towers, signs in English, but the place looks untouched. It must have existed for a while but it does not match the architecture of the Oldest House. This must be Mr Ash’s doing.
Ahti feels Mr Ash’s presence leave him briefly while he slowly shuffles to the edge of the pool and peers into the water. It is deceptively deep, almost as deep as the lakes back in Finland. The water is crystal clear, but it has not been tainted with ugly chemicals. Ahti dips his hand into the water, feeling for its source. Ahti follows the twists and turns through the sea of night and beyond to a waterfall in a country now known as Laos. Except it’s not from this world’s Laos but another world’s altogether. This water has been entangled in the sea of night’s soup, filtered, then streamed into this very pool. It is the purest, most untouched water Ahti has ever been graced with.
Only one being aside from Ahti can perform such a feat.
Mr Ash’s voice echoes from the bottom of the pool. “Take your clothes off and join me at the bottom. The water’s fine.”
Ahti’s not sure how a skinny dip will lead to sex, but he won’t say no to a swim in such nice waters. He strips his clothes off, throwing it behind him. When he jumps in and dives into the inviting depths, he feels the lost years catch up to him. Colour returns to his hair, from wiry grays to a smooth chocolate brown. His dry skin is hydrated, the wrinkles softening. He’s returned to his former glory.
It’s been so long since he’s been in such nice, clean waters; perhaps too long. He could so easily dissolve into sea foam. Untwist his form and follow the stream to a different world. Return to the depths he once arisen from, unbound to the earth and soil. Relish in the greatest gift anyone has ever given him in his long eternity of life.
“Ahti?”
But of course. He’s not here for good water. He is here for Mr Ash, and he is here for himself. He dives deeper, or perhaps it is better to say the water pulls him in deeper. It obeys his call effortlessly, taking him to where he is needed at the bottom of the pool where his lover’s soul resides. It’s dark down here, the once-blinding light above now a faint shimmer. The pressure is intense, but no match for the once and current god of the waters. To him, it’s like a nice weighted blanket on his back and shoulders. A good pressure.
Ahti presses his hand to the floor. “I am here,” he says, as easy as speaking on land. “This your idea? Naked swim?”
“How long can you hold your breath, my good Ahti?” The floor asks.
What a strange question. “I am of water, Theo. I no need to breathe.” Worrying he might sound flippant, Ahti adds, “Very good water you pick for me, I am impressed.”
The pool rumbles. A sigh or a chuckle, hard to tell. “Are you claustrophobic? Afraid of small, enclosed spaces?”
“What is plan?”
“I am the walls and the windows. I make up the face of the Oldest House. Anything that makes up the architecture itself, I can manipulate. Pools are pieces of architecture, especially if they are designed like this, integrated into the walls themselves. And with water, I’m able to mimic something I thought I might not be able to do.”
Ahti doesn’t need to hear more. “Show me. We try.”
The floor rumbles again, definitely a laugh this time. The bottom of the pool extends out, sharp rectangular blocks sticking out just above Ahti, blocking him off from the surface above. There’s almost no light, save for a face-sized hole right above Ahti’s face streaming light in.
The concrete shifts, pinning Ahti’s body in place. He cannot move. The concrete shifts, melting into his shape. He is a mould, compressed and squeezed. He shuts his eye and clenches his body tight.
“Sorry,” Mr Ash says apologetically. “This is only for this one time. Please endure for me.”
“What you…do to me?” Ahti manages to gasp.
“Memorialising you. I won’t take much longer. Bear with me.”
Ahti wants to ask more questions, but then Mr Ash squeezes a little more, constricting his breath. It’s almost unbearable if it isn’t for the pain getting his blood pumping, the unmoving stone sinking deeper into his pores, consuming him, turning him from water to stone, from fluid to rigid. Mr Ash keeps squeezing, the mould getting smaller and smaller, until Ahti can’t even move his lungs, his soft dick pressing furiously into the concrete mould, the concrete shifting slightly as if fingers are tracing over the veins of his growing cock.
And then Ahti is released, the concrete lifting up. Ahti gets a second to behold this masterpiece, an echo of his form. Then the concrete sinks into the floor like it was never there.
Ahti rolls his shoulder and flaps his limbs to limber up. The water bubbles around him. His cock is firm and ready for action.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No no,” Ahti grunts. “Just unusual. Horse kick out of love too.”
“Good.” Mr Ash cannot sigh in his current state but the walls do sag enough to suggest the idea. “Let’s see if this works.”
A box-shaped mass of concrete suddenly pushes up from the ground, close to Ahti’s arm. On Mr Ash’s silent order, the little concrete block curves and falls over, trapping Ahti’s wrist to the bottom of the pool floor. Mr Ash’s equivalent of a handcuff. Just as Ahti makes this revelation, another cubic block rises from the floor next to Ahti’s other hand, then his ankles, tugging him down and pinning him to the bottom of the pool,
Ahti tests his restraints, but it is stone and he is still flesh and bones. He is trapped. At the mercy of the Oldest House.
The blood pumps harder in his chest. “Mr Ash—”
“I am Theo or the Oldest House to you.”
As Ahti gazes up at the faint light above, a memory bubbles up to the surface. Mr Ash back when he was human, tied to all four bedposts by Ahti’s handiwork, licking his lips in anticipation for Ahti to come fuck him. Ahti doesn’t consider himself a gentle lover. Always likes it hard, or else it’s not proper, and that night he gave it to Mr Ash hard and proper, enough to make the bed shake and the glass of water on the bedside table to rattle. The few times Mr Ash wanted to do the fucking, he always spent so much time on the foreplay. Mr Ash liked giving it soft and taking it hard.
But there is no softness in the Oldest House. No round curves, just sharp rectangular blocks and hard edges and unyielding stone. A cold exterior for a cozy interior. No wonder Mr Ash became the building.
From everywhere and nowhere, Mr Ash sighs gently. “Don’t move too much.”
Another concrete block extends out, this time from the wall. It’s rectangular, not as wide as Ahti’s fist, yet he knows what this block is meant to represent. When he feels the concrete shaft press into the crack of his ass, he can’t help grinning even though his body initially wants to reject the sensation. There’s no lubrication aside from the water. Fucking him like this would be a painful affair without some foreplay.
But Mr Ash is always very thoughtful. The concrete cuffs warm up, trembling slightly, like a lover’s fingers brushing over Ahti’s wrinkled skin. The shaft on his ass vibrates gently, getting Ahti used to the sensation, the girth, the firmness.
“Perkele, why you no try this before, Theo?” Ahti sighs.
“I didn’t want to be too rough on your old bones.”
“I always like rough.”
There’s the slightest flare of temperature. A break in Mr Ash’s composure.
Ahti laughs, the bubbles floating up before his sight. He doesn’t mind the foreplay but this is it. The moment of truth and sex and lust. Green for go.
“Come to papa,” Ahti growls into the depths.
The concrete spreads Ahti’s ass apart and pushes itself in a little. The pool floor trembles and the cuffs flare with heat. Ahti’s eyes remain shut, hands clenched as he prepares for the strangest sex he’s ever had in his life.
But what he feels isn’t a concrete cylinder sliding into his ass. Instead he feels something closer to a toilet plunger on his ass. The concrete has sealed itself to Ahti’s flesh, pulling the water into itself. Perfectly fitting over him like a glove or a mould. The shackles on Ahti’s wrists tighten briefly like a kiss, a slight warning as if to ask him if he is ready. And Ahti is born ready, reborn ready. The inner concrete cylinder pushes. A sudden rush of heated water flows into Ahti’s ass with a dizzyingly high pressure. He grunts, half in surprise and half in pleasure as the jet of water floods into him, pressing right into his prostate.
Just as quickly the water retreats, and then pushes in again. In and out, quicker and quicker, just like the way Mr Ash would fuck Ahti as a human. Ahti is not one for the moaning and the groaning unless it is real, but he does unconsciously expose his neck to his paranatural lover. In another life, he would be biting and sucking on Mr Ash’s skin, leaving marks beneath clothes and getting a few himself. Water filters into Ahti’s agape mouth, baring teeth to a body he cannot bite anymore.
The pressure builds, in more ways than one. He’s missed this touch that’s so close to his lover’s. But it’s not enough. His cock aches for stimulation. More than the water can provide.
As he thinks this, another cylinder of concrete ejects from the floor, then makes a left turn, and another left, until it’s hovering over Ahti’s erect cock. Before Ahti can comprehend what this might be for, it latches onto his cock like a hose. Water pulls into it, creating a suction that tugs on Ahti’s cock. The sound isn’t the same, but whatever that cylinder is doing, it feels just like Mr Ash’s tongue, all military precise and equal pressure. The sensation on his cock is dizzying as is, but in conjunction to the water penetrating Ahti’s ass, it is enough to make him throw his head back, basking in this strange pleasure, closing his eyes and letting his imagination float away.
In his mind’s eye, it is Mr Ash that puts the handcuffs on Ahti, Mr Ash with the wet blowjob, Mr Ash fucking him with this rare urgency. He’s human here, face sharp and betraying no emotion. Mr Ash, ever the consummate lover, is concentrating only on what he must do. Ahti opens his eyes to see the faint light above, crystal clear waters around him, and no other body. Mr Ash is just concrete and wood now, not flesh and bone.
“Do you feel good?” Mr Ash’s voice echoes, desperate and just a little bit bossy.
“Do you?”
“This is all for you,” Mr Ash insists. “I want you to feel good.”
Ahti does, but what about Mr Ash? If he were a more selfish man, maybe he could submit completely. Let Mr Ash and his new water tricks bring him to the brink. But good sex is for both sides. He can’t leave Mr Ash hanging.
At least he’s had plenty of experience figuring out how to pleasure Mr Ash in his current form.
Ahti slams his palm down on the floor, as much as the concrete cuffs allow, and concentrates on the source of the water. Rather than follow the stream to its source, he becomes one with it, travelling down the stream beneath him into the pores of the concrete floor. Then he goes beneath the pool, filling the cracks with water, spreading himself far and wide. Mr Ash is a kind soul but Ahti’s is vast. Powerful. At the leylines where Mr Ash’s soul rests, Ahti summons a bit of the pool water and presses it in with powerful force.
The room shudders like an earthquake. “My good man, what…how are you doing this?”
“You are not the only one who can play with water.” He spreads the warm pool water further, widening the gaps into fissures into holes. Mr Ash’s soul feels, and Ahti can only imagine what Mr Ash must be feeling, his power strong but with its own limitation. But he doesn’t need to worry too much. The pool vibrates, water splashing above, as a third column makes its way for Ahti’s lips, forcing them open like a gag. Mr Ash wants to fill all of Ahti’s holes? He can do the same and much more for Mr Ash. Concrete and wood have many more holes than a human body. He finds more leylines, all the points where Mr Ash’s soul has spread through, and thrusts the water in and out, in time with the suction of Mr Ash’s stone lips on his cock.
Ahti must have hit the jackpot, because Mr Ash moves faster, firmer. The cylinder over Ahti’s cock shifts, an occasional air bubble with every descent like one would huff while giving a blowjob. The cylinder fucking his ass occasionally slips in deeper like a dildo, warm and unyielding, threatening to split Ahti open. Maybe he will welcome it, a sweet release and death and then a resurrection into another body, a different body just like Mr Ash. But Ahti likes being human. The struggle. The tenacity. The thrill of knowing he can pleasure his lovers in any shape or form, be they male or female, human or brick.
Mr Ash struggles to concentrate on everything at once. He loosens the cuffs over Ahti’s wrist, and focuses on fucking Ahti’s willing throat and cock and ass. Ahti does groan once, and the ceiling shakes. Ahti claws his fingers into the floor until Mr Ash acquiesces, drilling tiny holes into the stone for Ahti to fuck with his fingers.
The floor sink, shifting back into that mould that so perfectly fit Ahti’s body. He moans again. The floor and walls and ceiling shakes like an earthquake. So much like the last time they tried to fuck, before the ceiling caved in and clipped Ahti’s shoulder. But Ahti’s too close himself, and there’s no way he can pull away even if he wanted to. This is ecstasy. This is sex. This is good sex.
Ahti’s fingers dig deep into the pool’s floor. The water swirls around him. The concrete begins to falter and crumble, as if the room is about to fall apart any second, to encase Ahti in stone one more time. He doesn’t care. All he cares is that they both find their pleasure. He curls his fingers, forces the water deeper into the leylines until the pipes begin to crack. And with a sonorous chime like a warning signal blaring, the walls finally come down, dust and pieces of concrete falling down into the water, heading for Ahti. At the last moment, a shivering column erupts from the side, protecting Ahti from the falling concrete, encasing him in a tiny, suffocating concrete box filled with water.
The concrete cylinders retreat from Ahti’s lips and ass and cock. Ahti takes himself into his hand, feels the mould on his back shift like fingers on his lower back and ass, urging him on for his final release.
“I’ve got you,” Mr Ash whispers into the back of Ahti’s skull. “I can feel you.”
“Then feel,” Ahti says softly as he runs himself firmly in his hand. A few tugs, a few sighs, a few concrete fingers clawing at Ahti’s back, and then he cums, body twitching and writhing, the ugly white staining the beautiful pure and clear waters.
The concrete box finally lifts. And Ahti floats up to the surface.
Ahti slowly pulls himself out of the pool, Mr Ash pushing a block from the pool to assist him in getting out. Drying up is as simple as beckoning the water to leave his skin. Ahti feels his hair grow gray, the wrinkles becoming more prominent. As he dresses, Ahti takes in the destruction of this pool room. What once was clean and pristine walls, now there are fragments dislodged from the walls, water damage on the ceiling, and holes on the floor.
“Was that good for you?” Mr Ash asks from the walls. Which wall, Ahti doesn’t know. He’s too blissful to figure out.
“Very good.” Ahti barks out a laugh. “Very good for you too, I see.”
“Quite,” Mr Ash says. “I think some maintenance is in order for this room if we want to do this again, but…well, I think we can do this again. Isn’t that exciting?”
It is exciting, but more than that, it is relief. Ahti pats the floor beneath him softly, imagining he is rubbing Mr Ash’s back or arm. He might never know which it is, but perhaps that’s not important anymore. Theodore Ash Sr is a building now, with a building’s needs and desires, similar but distinct from humans. He could never do anything like that sex with another human being. Only a building could satisfy him like that. Ahti might not be able to go back if he gets another go as good as this.
But there are more important things to do. More important things to say. “First we clean. Then we talk more sex,” Ahti replies.
The walls rumble softly with laughter only Ahti hears and understands.
Ahti sits alone in his office throwing darts at the dartboard. Mr Ash isn’t in this room, which gives Ahti some nice peace and quiet. It’s after hours, and the usual night cleaners and maintenance crew have mobilised, sweeping through the Oldest House. After the excitement of last night, Ahti wouldn’t mind sleeping in a bit tonight. And then maybe go back to that private pool room tomorrow night. Doing bondage on a sentient building is another new challenge for Ahti, but one he relishes.
Ahti’s easy smile falters when the office door is pushed open. Director Northmoor strides in, his brows low on his forehead. From Ahti’s brief interactions with the man, that is not a good sign.
“Ahti,” he utters. “
“Slowly it’ll go well,” Ahti says. “What is it?”
“We had a building shift last night. Biggest on the scales, and now we find a new room with a pool.” Northmoor glances at his watch impatiently. “I don’t know how long it’s been there, or if it’s safe. Organise a team to clean it up pronto. Until I get the all-clear and I give permission, that room is cordoned off. Understood?”
At that moment, the presence of Mr Ash fills the room. Northmoor must feel it too by the way his back tenses. If only his senses were more attuned, perhaps then he would hear his former boss say, “Nice to see you too, Northmoor.”
Ahti sighs. “I will see what I can do.”
Northmoor gives his brief farewell and leaves the office briskly. The radio croons a Finnish tango, perfect for dancing and singing. Ahti stares up at the ceiling. He laughs, loud and crude.
“Building shift?” Ahti says knowingly. “Bit more than shift, Theo. One might say that building is cummin—”
A rectangular block shoves Ahti into his seat and curls over his shoulders. Ahti laughs again, a little quieter.
“Is that a challenge? Do you really want to piss Northmoor off?”
Ahti pretends to think for a minute, his eyes glued to the small circular hole appearing on the wall. His lips curl into a smile. “I like a good challenge.”
He undoes his jumpsuit. The concrete guides him to the wall and the hole. Whether it’s sex or making love or fucking, Ahti doesn’t know. All he cares about is the building creaking and shifting around him, an ecstasy no one else but Ahti will ever understand.