Archive of Our Own

The rain had started three hours ago, and it hadn't stopped.

Zhongli stood beneath the overhang of a closed bookshop, watching the water sheet down from the awning in translucent curtains. Liyue Harbor's streets had emptied quickly once the storm began—the kind of autumn deluge that turned the air thick and wet, pressing down on the city like a hand. He'd been caught mid-errand, returning from the funeral parlor with a leather portfolio tucked beneath one arm, and now he waited with the patience of stone for the downpour to ease.

The scent of rain was everywhere. Petrichor rose from the pavement in waves, mingling with the salt of the harbor and the faint, acrid smell of ozone. It was clean. Neutral. Zhongli breathed it in, letting it settle the ever-present awareness that hummed beneath his skin—the thing he'd learned to suppress over centuries, the thing that marked him as what he was.

Alpha.

The word was clinical. Biological. A designation he'd been born into, one that carried expectations he'd long since refused to indulge. He was not a slave to instinct. He was a consultant, a man of contracts and civility, and he'd built his life around the careful architecture of control.

The rain drummed harder.

And then—

A figure stumbled around the corner, arms wrapped around themselves, shoes splashing through puddles without care. Zhongli's gaze lifted automatically, cataloging the stranger in an instant: young, maybe mid-twenties, soaked to the bone. Their shirt clung to their frame, translucent with water, and their hair hung in dripping tangles across their face. They weren't running for cover—just walking, as though they hadn't noticed the storm at all.

Zhongli frowned slightly. Odd.

The stranger looked up, and their eyes met his.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then the stranger smiled—bright, dizzy, like they'd just remembered something funny—and changed direction, heading straight toward him.

"Oh my god," they said, breathless, laughing. "You're, like, so dry. How are you so dry?"

Their voice was light, effervescent, tinged with something Zhongli couldn't quite place. They stopped just outside the overhang, still standing in the rain, water streaming down their face. Up close, he could see the flush across their cheeks, the way their pupils were blown wide, the faint sheen of sweat beneath the rainwater.

And then the scent hit him.

It arrived like a fist to the sternum—sudden, overwhelming, impossible to ignore. Beneath the rain, beneath the soap and the generic laundry detergent, there was something else. Something sweet. Honeyed and warm, with an undertone of salt and skin, and beneath that, deeper still—

Omega.

Zhongli's jaw tightened. He didn't move, didn't step back, but every muscle in his body locked into place. The scent was thick, saturating the air between them, and it wasn't just present. It was active. Escalating. The kind of scent that didn't happen by accident.

Heat.

The stranger was in heat, and they were standing in the rain like it was a summer afternoon.

"Um," they said, tilting their head, still smiling. "Can I, like... stand under there with you? I'm super wet." They paused, then giggled. "I mean, from the rain. Obviously."

Zhongli's throat felt tight. He forced himself to speak, keeping his voice even. "You should go home."

"Home?" The stranger blinked at him, as though the concept was foreign. "I was going to get boba. Do you like boba? You look like you'd drink, like, oolong tea with no sugar."

They stepped under the overhang without waiting for permission, and suddenly the space between them collapsed. Two feet. Maybe less. The scent intensified, curling into Zhongli's lungs with every breath, and he felt something shift inside him—something old and hungry and patient, waking up after a long sleep.

His hands clenched at his sides.

"You need to go home," he said again, quieter this time. "Now."

The stranger looked up at him, and for the first time, their smile faltered. Their gaze focused, sharpening, and Zhongli saw the exact moment they registered what he was. Their nostrils flared slightly. Their pupils dilated further, and a tremor ran through them—visible, involuntary.

"Oh," they whispered.

The air between them thickened.

Zhongli could feel his heartbeat in his throat, slow and deliberate, each pulse pushing heat through his veins. The rain outside seemed louder now, a roar that drowned out everything else, and beneath it he could hear the stranger's breathing—quick, shallow, uneven. They were shaking. Just slightly, but enough that he could see it in their shoulders, their hands.

"You're an Alpha," they said, and their voice had changed. Softer. Uncertain.

"Yes."

"I..." They swallowed hard, and Zhongli watched their throat work. "I didn't mean to—I wasn't trying to—"

"I know."

But they didn't move. Neither did he.

The smell of cedar began to rise from Zhongli's skin, unbidden. It was his scent, the one he kept buried beneath layers of control and expensive cologne, and now it was seeping out, mixing with the stranger's sweetness, twining together in the narrow space beneath the awning. He could feel his temperature rising, a slow burn that started in his chest and radiated outward, settling low in his abdomen.

Rut.

No. He was not doing this. He was not some animal ruled by biology, driven to distraction by pheromones and proximity. He was Zhongli, former Archon, consultant of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and he had spent millennia mastering himself.

The stranger took a step closer.

"Stop," Zhongli said, and his voice came out rougher than intended.

They froze, eyes wide, and for a second he thought they'd listen. But then their gaze dropped—down to his jaw, his throat, his chest—and when they looked back up, there was something raw in their expression. Need. Confusion. Fear.

"I can't," they whispered. "I don't—I can't think right now."

Zhongli's hands trembled. He locked them behind his back, fingers digging into his own wrists hard enough to bruise. The heat was building, relentless, and with it came the pull—the instinct that said closer, closer, take care of this, fix this, make it stop. The stranger was in distress, and every part of him that was Alpha screamed to respond.

"What's your name?" he asked, forcing the words out.

They blinked at him, dazed. "Ajax."

"Ajax." He held onto the name like a tether. "Do you have someone who can come get you? A friend? A partner?"

"No." Ajax shook their head, and a droplet of water fell from their hair onto the pavement. "I don't—I'm new here. I just moved, like, last month."

Of course. Of course they were alone.

Zhongli exhaled slowly through his nose, and the breath shuddered. He could feel sweat beginning to bead at his temples despite the cool air, could feel his pulse thrumming in his wrists, his neck, his groin. This was dangerous. This was incredibly dangerous, and he needed to end it before—

Ajax swayed forward, just an inch, and their hand came up to brace against the brick wall beside Zhongli's shoulder.

The world contracted.

They were close enough now that Zhongli could feel the heat radiating off them, could see the flush spreading down their throat, disappearing beneath the collar of their soaked shirt. Their scent was everywhere, drowning out the rain, the city, everything, and beneath it he could smell himself—cedar and musk and something darker, something possessive that made his teeth ache.

"I'm sorry," Ajax breathed, and their voice cracked. "I'm really sorry, I didn't—I don't usually—"

"It's not your fault."

"I feel so hot." Their eyes glistened, and Zhongli realized with a jolt that they were crying. Tears mixed with rainwater on their cheeks, and their whole body was trembling now, wracked with it. "Why is it so hot?"

Zhongli's control frayed.

His hand moved before he could stop it, reaching up to cup the side of Ajax's face. Their skin was burning beneath his palm, fever-hot, and they leaned into the touch with a broken sound that went straight through him.

"You need to go to a hospital," Zhongli said, but even as he spoke, he knew it was useless. Ajax wasn't listening. They'd turned their face into his hand, eyes fluttering closed, and their lips brushed against his wrist.

The contact sang through Zhongli's nervous system like lightning.

"Please," Ajax whispered against his skin. "Please, I can't—I need—"

They didn't finish. They didn't have to.

Zhongli's other hand came up, gripping Ajax's shoulder, and he wasn't sure if he was pulling them closer or holding them away. The rain pounded against the pavement. The scent of cedar and sweetness wrapped around them both, thick enough to taste, and Zhongli felt the last thread of his restraint begin to snap.

This was wrong. This was a stranger, someone vulnerable and compromised, and he was better than this.

But Ajax was looking up at him now, tears streaming down their face, and their expression was so raw, so desperate, that something ancient in Zhongli's chest cracked open.

"I don't even know you," Ajax said, voice breaking. "Why do I—why does it feel like—"

"Instinct," Zhongli managed. "It's just biology."

"It doesn't feel like just anything."

No. It didn't.

Zhongli's thumb brushed across Ajax's cheekbone, wiping away water and tears, and he felt his own breathing shift, deepening, slowing into something predatory. His vision sharpened. The world narrowed to the person in front of him—their scent, their heat, the rapid flutter of their pulse visible in their throat.

He wanted to bite it.

The thought arrived fully formed, undeniable, and Zhongli's hand tightened on Ajax's shoulder.

"We can't do this," he said, but his voice was barely above a growl.

"I know." Ajax's fingers curled into the front of Zhongli's coat, gripping tight. "I know, but I—I can't let go."

They were both shaking now.

The rain continued to fall.

And neither of them moved away.

-

Zhongli's pulse hammered against his ribs as he fought for clarity through the haze of instinct. Ajax was still trembling against him, fingers twisted in his coat, face pressed close enough that each exhale ghosted across Zhongli's throat. The scent was maddening—that sweet, desperate omega heat mixing with his own rising cedar-and-musk, creating something volatile in the air between them.

But something was... off.

Zhongli forced himself to focus, to think past the biological imperative screaming at him. Ajax had walked through a downpour without seeming to notice. Had approached an unknown Alpha during heat without any apparent sense of danger. And now—

"Do you have your phone?" Zhongli asked, keeping his voice low and measured despite the roughness creeping into it.

Ajax blinked up at him, confused. "My...?"

"Your phone. To call someone."

"Oh!" Ajax's face brightened, that dizzy smile returning even through the tears. They patted their pockets, then frowned. "I think... I think I left it at the boba place? Or maybe—wait, did I even go to the boba place?" They laughed, a little helpless. "I don't remember. I was just walking and then everything got all... fuzzy."

Zhongli's jaw tightened. The heat was affecting their cognition—that was normal, expected even. But the way Ajax spoke, the guileless quality of their confusion...

"Ajax," he said carefully. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four! Almost twenty-five. My birthday's in July." They said it with the proud enthusiasm of a child reciting a memorized fact.

"And you moved here alone? Recently?"

"Uh-huh! For work. I'm a—um—" Ajax's brow furrowed with concentration. "I help people with their computers? Like, when they forget their passwords and stuff. Everyone's super nice but they use lots of big words sometimes." They paused, then added with perfect sincerity, "You use big words too. What's a 'biological imperative'?"

Understanding settled over Zhongli like cold water, cutting through some of the haze. Ajax wasn't just compromised by heat. There was something else—a cognitive difference, a simplicity in the way they processed the world. And they were alone, in a new city, in the grip of a heat they clearly hadn't prepared for.

The Alpha instinct roared louder, but it shifted. Not just want, but protect.

Zhongli forced his hands to gentle, one cupping Ajax's face while the other moved to their shoulder, steadying rather than grasping. "Ajax, listen to me. You're not feeling well right now. Your body is going through something called a heat cycle. Do you understand?"

Ajax nodded slowly. "It's when omegas get all... burny. And need to nest." Their eyes widened. "Oh! I don't have a nest. Is that why I feel so weird?"

"Partly." Zhongli's thumb moved in slow, soothing circles against Ajax's cheekbone. The touch seemed to calm them, their breathing evening out slightly. "You need somewhere safe. Somewhere quiet and cool. Do you remember where you live?"

"Um..." Ajax's face scrunched up with effort. "There's a blue building? With stairs? And my neighbor has a really fat cat named Mochi who sits in the window." They looked up at Zhongli hopefully, as if this information would be sufficient.

It wasn't.

The rain showed no signs of stopping. Ajax was soaked through, shaking with heat and cold simultaneously, tears still tracking down their flushed cheeks. They had no phone, no clear way home, and apparently no support system in the city. And Zhongli—Zhongli could feel his own rut creeping closer with every breath, his temperature rising, his control eroding.

This was untenable.

"Alright," he said, keeping his voice steady. "We're going to get you somewhere safe. Somewhere with—" He searched for omega-safe concepts, things that might cut through the heat haze. "—blankets. And water. And it will be cool and quiet. Would that help?"

Ajax's whole face lit up. "Blankets sound really good."

"Then that's what we'll do." Zhongli carefully extracted Ajax's fingers from his coat, then shrugged out of it despite the rain. The loss of the layer helped fractionally with his overheating, and he draped it around Ajax's shoulders. "Put this on."

Ajax pulled the coat around themselves, immediately burying their nose in the collar. Their eyes fluttered half-closed. "Smells like you," they mumbled. "Smells safe."

Zhongli's hands clenched. His coat was saturated with his scent, and watching Ajax wrap themselves in it, breathing it in with that blissed-out expression, made something possessive and primal claw at his chest.

Not yours, he reminded himself sharply. Vulnerable. Needs help, not—

"My apartment is three blocks from here," he said, already knowing this was a terrible idea and seeing no alternative. "You'll stay there until we can contact someone for you, or until you're lucid enough to get home safely. Just until the worst of this passes. Do you understand?"

Ajax nodded eagerly. "You're really nice. Are all Alphas this nice?"

"No," Zhongli said flatly. "Which is why you need to be more careful. You shouldn't approach strange Alphas when you're in heat. It's—" He stopped himself. This wasn't the time for lectures. "Never mind. Come."

He stepped out into the rain, and Ajax followed immediately, still clutching his coat around themselves. The downpour soaked through Zhongli's shirt within seconds, plastering it to his skin, but the cold water was almost a relief against the heat building under his skin.

They walked in silence, Zhongli keeping a careful two feet of distance between them. But Ajax kept drifting closer, drawn by instinct, and twice Zhongli had to gently redirect them. Each touch—his hand on Ajax's elbow, his palm against their shoulder—sent fresh waves of scent cascading between them.

By the time they reached his building, Zhongli's shirt was translucent and Ajax was crying again, though they seemed unaware of it. Their breathing had gone ragged, and they kept making small, distressed sounds in the back of their throat.

Zhongli's hands shook as he unlocked the door.

Three floors, he told himself. Just get them upstairs. Give them water, blankets, space. Let the heat pass.

But when they stepped into the stairwell and the door closed behind them, sealing them into the quiet, enclosed space, Ajax made a broken sound and stumbled.

Zhongli caught them on instinct, and Ajax immediately pressed close, face buried against his chest, fingers clutching at his wet shirt.

"Hurts," Ajax whimpered. "Everything hurts. Why does it hurt?"

"I know." Zhongli's voice came out rougher than he intended, barely human. "I know. We're almost there."

Ajax tilted their face up, and their eyes were glassy, unfocused. "You smell so good. Like... like trees and rain and something else. Something..."

They didn't finish. Their hand came up to rest against Zhongli's chest, right over his heart, and even through the wet fabric the touch burned.

Zhongli's control cracked.

His arms came around Ajax properly, pulling them close, and he buried his face in their hair. The scent was overwhelming this close—sweet and salt and omega, and beneath it that uniquely Ajax smell that he'd already memorized without meaning to. His breathing went deep and slow, drawing it in, and he felt his pupils dilate, his focus narrowing to the person in his arms.

Mine, something whispered. Protect. Keep. Make safe.

"We need to keep moving," he forced out, but his arms didn't loosen.

Ajax made a small, pleased sound and melted against him further.

The stairwell was very quiet.

Zhongli closed his eyes.

-

Zhongli's apartment was spare and meticulously organized—dark wood furniture, shelves lined with books and carefully arranged curios, blackout curtains that he now drew shut against the grey afternoon. The air inside was cool and still, untouched by the chaos of the storm outside.

Ajax stood dripping in the entryway, still wrapped in Zhongli's coat, looking around with wide, wondering eyes.

"It's so clean," they said, awed. "Do you have a maid?"

"No." Zhongli locked the door behind them, then moved past Ajax with careful distance. "The bathroom is through there. You need to get out of those wet clothes before you catch cold on top of everything else."

Ajax didn't move. They were shaking again—whether from cold or heat or both, Zhongli couldn't tell.

"I don't... I don't have other clothes," Ajax said in a small voice.

Right. Of course they didn't.

Zhongli exhaled slowly, fighting down the wave of protectiveness that rose at the helpless uncertainty in Ajax's tone. "I'll find you something. Go ahead and—" He gestured toward the bathroom. "Dry off. I'll leave clothes outside the door."

This time Ajax obeyed, shuffling toward the bathroom with Zhongli's coat still clutched around their shoulders. They paused at the doorway, looking back. "You're not gonna leave, right?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

Ajax nodded and disappeared inside.

The moment the door closed, Zhongli braced his hands against the kitchen counter and focused on breathing. In. Out. Steady. His shirt was still soaked, clinging to his skin, and his body temperature felt at least three degrees too high. The apartment was full of Ajax's scent now—that sweet, desperate omega heat—and it was taking every ounce of his considerable self-control not to follow them into that bathroom.

He forced himself to move. Changed into dry clothes—loose cotton that wouldn't trap heat. Found soft, oversized things for Ajax: sweatpants with a drawstring waist, a large t-shirt, warm socks. Left them folded outside the bathroom door.

Then he went to the kitchen and cooked.

It was something to do with his hands. Something concrete and controllable. He made congee—simple, plain, easy on the stomach. Added ginger for the nausea that often accompanied heat. Put water on to boil for tea. His movements were precise and methodical, a meditation against instinct.

Ajax emerged twenty minutes later, swimming in Zhongli's clothes, hair still damp and curling at the ends. They looked very young like this. Vulnerable.

"You cooked?" Ajax's face lit up. "For me?"

"You need to eat. Heat depletes your resources."

"It smells really good." Ajax drifted closer to the stove, then stopped abruptly, swaying. Their hand went to their stomach. "Oh. I feel... really weird."

Zhongli was at their side immediately, steadying them. "Sit. Now."

He guided Ajax to the couch, and they collapsed into it with a grateful whimper. Their breathing had gone shallow again, and fresh sweat beaded at their temples despite the cool apartment.

"How long has it been since your last heat?" Zhongli asked, retrieving the congee.

Ajax's brow furrowed. "Um... I don't know? A while? Ms. Chen usually keeps track but I moved out and—" They stopped, confused. "What month is it?"

"October."

"Oh." Ajax counted on their fingers, lips moving silently. "Maybe... June? Or May?"

Five months. Possibly six. Far too long, and it explained why this heat was hitting so hard.

Zhongli knelt beside the couch, bringing the bowl to Ajax's level. "Try to eat something."

Ajax took the bowl obediently, and Zhongli watched as they ate—small bites at first, then increasingly enthusiastic. They made happy little sounds between mouthfuls.

"This is so good. You're a really good cooker. Do you cook a lot?"

"When necessary."

"I'm not very good at cooking. I burned toast once. Ms. Chen said I'm not allowed to use the stove unsupervised anymore." Ajax said this matter-of-factly, without shame. "But I can make really good sandwiches! And I know how to use the microwave if I set a timer."

Zhongli felt something tighten in his chest. "This Ms. Chen. She took care of you?"

"Uh-huh. At the care home. Since I was eighteen." Ajax finished the congee and set the bowl aside, then curled into the corner of the couch. "But I'm independent now! I have my own apartment and a job and everything. I'm doing really good."

"I'm sure you are."

Ajax smiled at him, bright and trusting, and Zhongli had to look away.

The heat hadn't abated. If anything, it was getting worse. Ajax's scent was intensifying, filling the apartment, and Zhongli could feel his own body responding—temperature rising, instincts sharpening. The rut was close now, creeping up his spine, and he didn't know how much longer he could maintain this careful distance.

"Ajax," he said quietly. "I need to ask you something, and I need you to think carefully about your answer."

"Okay."

"Have you ever... addressed a heat before? With a partner, or—" He paused, choosing his words carefully. "—with assistance?"

Ajax's face flushed darker. "You mean like... the thing? That omegas do?"

"Yes."

"No." Ajax's voice went small. "Ms. Chen said it wasn't appropriate. That I should just take suppressants and sleep through it. But I ran out of suppressants and I couldn't remember where to get more and then I just... forgot? And then today everything got all weird and burny."

Of course. Of course no one had taught them proper heat management. No one had prepared them for living independently through a cycle.

Zhongli's jaw tightened. "The burning—it's going to get worse before it gets better. Your body is trying to... complete a biological process. Without assistance, it will be extremely uncomfortable. Painful, even."

Ajax's eyes went wide. "Can you make it stop?"

"I—" Zhongli stopped. He could. He absolutely could, and every Alpha instinct in his body was screaming at him to do exactly that. "There are ways to help. Clinical ways. But Ajax, you need to understand what you're asking—"

"I trust you." Ajax said it simply, with absolute conviction. "You've been really nice to me. You gave me your coat and made me food and you smell safe."

"That's the heat talking."

"Maybe." Ajax tilted their head. "But you are being nice. Nicer than most people. You didn't get mad when I said weird things or asked dumb questions."

"You haven't said anything weird or asked anything dumb."

"See? Nice." Ajax shifted on the couch, whimpering slightly. "It really hurts. Please?"

Zhongli closed his eyes. This was a terrible idea. This was crossing every professional, ethical boundary he'd constructed around himself. But leaving Ajax to suffer through this alone, unprepared and frightened, felt impossibly cruel.

"Alright," he said finally. "But we do this properly. Clinically. Do you understand?"

Ajax nodded eagerly.

Zhongli retrieved supplies from his bathroom—slick, medical-grade and unscented. Returned to find Ajax had curled into a tight ball on the couch, trembling. He sat at the opposite end, maintaining distance.

"I'm not going to touch you more than necessary," Zhongli said, keeping his voice level and professional. "This is just to help your body through the cycle. Nothing more. If at any point you want to stop, you tell me. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Turn over."

Ajax obeyed, shifting onto their stomach, and Zhongli carefully drew the sweatpants down—just enough, nothing more. The scent that rose was almost overpowering, and he felt his hands shake as he opened the bottle.

He worked quickly and efficiently, clinically, focusing on the mechanics of it and nothing else. Ajax made small, overwhelmed sounds, fingers clutching at the couch cushions, but they didn't ask him to stop. Zhongli kept his breathing steady, his movements practiced, even as his own body screamed at him to do more, to give in, to—

No.

When it was done, he withdrew immediately, pulling Ajax's pants back up and moving to the other end of the couch. Ajax lay there panting, face buried in the cushions, and gradually their trembling eased.

"Better?" Zhongli asked roughly.

"Yeah." Ajax's voice was muffled. "Yeah. Thank you."

Zhongli stood abruptly, needing distance. "I'm going to make tea. Rest."

He escaped to the kitchen, bracing his hands against the counter again. His whole body felt like a live wire, heat pooling low in his abdomen, and he could still smell Ajax on his fingers despite washing his hands twice. This was unsustainable. He needed to find someone to take over Ajax's care before his own rut hit fully and he lost the capacity for rational thought.

Ajax's bag—a small backpack they'd been wearing when they met—sat by the door where they'd dropped it. Zhongli picked it up, searching for a phone.

He found it tucked in a side pocket: a simple smartphone with a cracked screen protector and a bright blue case covered in cartoon whales. It was unlocked—no passcode, of course—and Zhongli navigated to the contacts.

There weren't many. "Pizza Place," "Work—IT Help Desk," "Doctor Chen," and one labeled "Emergency—Ms. Chen."

Zhongli hesitated, then dialed.

The woman who answered had a sharp, impatient voice. "Yes?"

"Ms. Chen? My name is Zhongli. I'm calling regarding Ajax—"

"What did they do now?" The woman sighed heavily. "Did they wander into traffic again? Forget to pay for something at the store? I told them they weren't ready to live alone, but they insisted—"

"They're in heat," Zhongli cut in, his voice harder than intended. "And they were walking through a storm, alone, with no suppressants and apparently no emergency plan."

A long pause. "Well, that's their responsibility now. They're an adult. They wanted independence." Her tone turned suspicious. "Who are you, exactly? Why do you have their phone?"

"They approached me during a storm. I'm—" He paused. "—ensuring their safety until the heat passes."

"Are you an Alpha?"

"That's irrelevant."

"It's entirely relevant. If you've touched them, if you've taken advantage—"

"I have done nothing of the sort." Zhongli's voice dropped to something dangerous. "I called to see if you could provide care. Clearly, that was a miscalculation."

"Now you listen here—Ajax is under my care program, and if you think you can just—"

Zhongli ended the call.

He stood there for a long moment, staring at the phone, feeling something hot and protective coil in his chest. The woman's voice had been cold. Dismissive. She'd shown more concern about liability than about Ajax's wellbeing.

From the living room, he heard a small sound. He returned to find Ajax sitting up on the couch, looking at him with worried eyes.

"Was that Ms. Chen?" they asked quietly.

"Yes."

"She was mean, wasn't she? She's always mean when I call." Ajax's shoulders hunched. "She says I'm a burden and I cost too much money and I should be more grateful."

Zhongli's jaw clenched. "You're not a burden."

"She says I am."

"She's wrong."

Ajax looked up at him, and something vulnerable crossed their face. "You really think so?"

"I know so."

And looking at them—this person who'd stumbled into his life by accident, who smiled at rain and forgot their phone and trusted too easily—Zhongli felt something shift. It wasn't just instinct anymore. It wasn't just the Alpha drive to protect and provide.

It was choice.

He crossed the room and sat beside Ajax on the couch, close but not touching. "How are you feeling?"

"Better. Still burny, but less... scary?" Ajax leaned toward him slightly, drawn by scent. "You smell different now. Less woody. More like... smoke?"

Rut. His rut was progressing.

"Ajax," Zhongli said carefully. "The next few hours are going to be difficult. For both of us. I'm going to need you to stay in the bedroom—my bedroom. You'll be more comfortable there. And I'm going to stay out here. We need to maintain distance."

"But you're helping me."

"I've helped as much as I safely can."

Ajax's hand found his, fingers twining between Zhongli's. The touch sent electricity up his arm. "I don't want to be alone. It's scary when I'm alone."

"I'll be right outside the door."

"Please?" Ajax's eyes were wide, imploring. "Can't you just... stay close? You make it less scary."

Zhongli looked at their joined hands. At Ajax's flushed face and trusting expression. At the way they leaned into him like he was safety itself.

And he made another choice.

"Alright," he said quietly. "But we need rules."

Ajax nodded eagerly.

"You stay on the bed. I'll stay in the chair. If I tell you to do something, you do it immediately. If I tell you to go to the bathroom and lock the door, you go. Understood?"

"Understood."

"And Ajax?" Zhongli met their eyes. "If I frighten you at any point—if I seem different, or dangerous—you run. You leave the apartment and you call for help. Promise me."

Ajax squeezed his hand. "You won't frighten me."

"Promise me anyway."

"Okay. I promise."

Zhongli stood, drawing Ajax up with him. "Come on. Let's get you settled."

He led them to the bedroom, where he quickly transformed it into something approximating a nest—pulled out extra blankets and pillows, closed the curtains, turned on a small lamp that cast warm, dim light. Ajax immediately climbed onto the bed and burrowed into the blankets with a happy sound.

"It smells like you in here," they said, face buried in a pillow.

"I'm aware."

"I like it."

Zhongli said nothing. He retrieved a book from his shelf—a collection of Liyue folk tales, worn and familiar—and settled into the reading chair in the corner. Put as much distance between himself and the bed as the room allowed.

"What's that?" Ajax asked, peering over the blankets.

"Stories. I thought..." Zhongli paused. "I thought they might help. Distract you."

Ajax's whole face brightened. "Will you read to me?"

"If you'd like."

"I'd like that a lot. No one's read to me since I was little."

Zhongli opened the book, found a familiar story, and began to read. His voice was steady and low, filling the quiet room, and he watched as Ajax gradually relaxed into the blankets. Their breathing evened out. Their eyes grew heavy.

"That's nice," Ajax murmured. "Your voice is nice."

Zhongli kept reading.

Outside, the rain continued to fall. Inside, the air grew heavier with mingled scents—cedar and sweetness, Alpha and omega, rut and heat. Zhongli felt his temperature climbing, felt his focus narrowing, but he kept his voice steady and his body still.

Ajax fell asleep somewhere during the third story.

And Zhongli sat in his chair, watching them sleep, feeling that strange new affection settle warm and certain in his chest.

He was in trouble. He knew that.

But he found he didn't particularly care.

Hours passed. The heat cycled—Ajax would wake, whimper, need clinical assistance that Zhongli provided with shaking hands and iron control. Then they'd settle again, and Zhongli would read or simply sit in watchful silence.

It was during one of these quiet periods, Ajax dozing and Zhongli fighting his own rising rut, that he noticed it.

The wet spot spreading across the sweatpants Ajax wore.

Not slick. Something else.

Zhongli frowned, moving closer despite his better judgment. The scent was different—not arousal, but something more concerning.

"Ajax," he said gently. "Wake up."

Ajax stirred, blinking sleepily. "Mm?"

"Did you...?" Zhongli gestured carefully at the wet patch.

Ajax looked down, and their face crumpled. "Oh no. Oh no, I'm sorry, I didn't—I didn't mean to—" Tears started immediately. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Ms. Chen's gonna be so mad, I ruined your clothes—"

"Hey." Zhongli moved to the bedside, his own discomfort forgotten in the face of Ajax's distress. "It's alright. It's just clothes. They can be washed."

"But I'm supposed to be independent and grown up and I—" Ajax's voice broke. "I can't even—I'm such a baby—"

"You're not." Zhongli caught Ajax's hands, holding them firmly. "You're in heat. Your body is under tremendous stress. This is a physiological response, nothing more. Do you understand?"

Ajax shook their head, still crying.

"Ajax. Look at me."

They did, eyes swimming with tears.

"You are not a burden," Zhongli said clearly. "You are not a baby. You are a person dealing with a difficult situation, and you're doing remarkably well. This—" He gestured at the wet spot. "—is nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing."

"You're not mad?"

"Not even slightly."

Ajax's lower lip trembled. "Ms. Chen would be mad."

"Then Ms. Chen is a fool."

That startled a wet laugh out of Ajax. "You're really nice. I said that already, didn't I?"

"You did."

"I'm gonna say it again. You're really, really nice." Ajax squeezed his hands. "Thank you for not being mean."

Zhongli's chest ached. He stood, gently extracting his hands. "Let's get you changed. Clean clothes will feel better."

He found fresh sweatpants and helped Ajax to the bathroom, standing guard outside while they changed. When they emerged—eyes still red but no longer crying—Zhongli had already stripped the bed and put fresh sheets on.

"You didn't have to do all that," Ajax said quietly.

"I wanted to."

Ajax climbed back into bed, and Zhongli returned to his chair. But this time, when he picked up the book, Ajax spoke.

"Zhongli?"

"Yes?"

"When this is over... can I still see you? Like, as friends?"

Zhongli looked at them—this strange, sweet person who trusted too easily and smiled too bright and needed more care than they'd ever received.

"Yes," he said. "I'd like that."

Ajax's smile could have lit the entire city.

And Zhongli thought: Yes. I'm definitely in trouble.

But as he opened the book and began to read again, Ajax curling contentedly into the nest of blankets, he found he'd never been in trouble that felt quite so much like coming home.

-

Zhongli woke to movement.

His eyes opened in the darkness; the lamp had burned out at some point, leaving only the faint grey light seeping around the curtains. For a moment he was disoriented, his body too hot, the air thick with a scent that made his hindbrain roar to life.

Then he registered what had woken him.

Ajax was there, kneeling between his legs where he'd fallen asleep in the chair. Their hands were at the waistband of his trousers, fingers fumbling with the button, and their face was flushed dark even in the dim light. Their pupils were blown wide, unfocused, and they were breathing in short, desperate pants.

"Just need—" Ajax mumbled, not seeming to see him. "Need to—have to—"

They were fully in heat fugue. Not thinking. Just instinct.

Zhongli's body responded before his mind caught up—a white-hot jolt of want that shot straight through him. Ajax was right there, willing and wanting, and every Alpha cell in Zhongli's body screamed yes, take, claim, fix this—

No.

No.

Zhongli jerked upright and shoved, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to dislodge. Ajax tumbled backward with a confused sound, landing on their rear on the carpet, and Zhongli was on his feet immediately, putting the full width of the room between them.

His heart hammered. His hands shook. He could feel his cock half-hard in his trousers, could feel the rut burning through his veins, and it took every ounce of control not to cross back to where Ajax sat on the floor, looking up at him with dazed, hurt eyes.

"Zhongli?" Ajax's voice was small, wounded. "Did I—did I do something wrong?"

"No." Zhongli's voice came out rough, barely human. He pressed his back against the wall, hands fisted at his sides. "No, you didn't. But you're not—you don't know what you're doing right now."

"I do know." Ajax tried to stand, stumbled, caught themselves against the bed. "I know I want—you smell so good and I need—"

"That's the heat talking."

"So?" Ajax's eyes were glassy, tears already forming. "It still feels real. It still hurts."

Zhongli closed his eyes, dragging in breath through his mouth instead of his nose. It didn't help much—Ajax's scent was everywhere, saturating the room, and his own cedar-smoke smell was rising to meet it. The air felt combustible.

"Ajax, listen to me." He forced the words out. "Before this—before you moved here—how did you manage your heats?"

Ajax blinked at him, confused by the question. "I... told you. Ms. Chen gave me suppressants."

"And when those didn't work? When you had breakthrough heats anyway—what happened then?"

"I..." Ajax's brow furrowed with effort. "I don't remember? I think... they put me in a room? A special room?"

"What kind of room?"

"It was cold. Really cold. And there were straps on the bed." Ajax said this factually, without apparent distress. "Ms. Chen said it was to keep me safe. That I might hurt myself if I wasn't restrained."

Zhongli's blood went cold despite the heat flooding his system. "They restrained you?"

"For like two or three days usually? Until it was over." Ajax tilted their head. "Sometimes Dr. Liu would come and give me shots that made me sleepy. I don't really remember much of it. Just waking up after and being really sore and thirsty."

Horror settled over Zhongli like a shroud. They'd sedated Ajax through their heats. Strapped them down and left them to suffer through it alone, drugged unconscious. No wonder Ajax didn't know how to manage—they'd never been taught. Never been given options. Just chemical suppression and, when that failed, chemical unconsciousness.

"That's—" Zhongli's jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. "That's not proper care. That's not even humane."

"It's not?" Ajax looked genuinely confused.

"No. Absolutely not."

"But Ms. Chen said it was for my own good. That I couldn't be trusted to—" Ajax's voice wavered. "—to make good choices. That I might do something bad if they didn't keep me safe from myself."

"You're not dangerous, Ajax. You're just an omega in heat. That's normal."

Ajax was crying again, silent tears tracking down their flushed cheeks. "Then why did they make it feel so bad? Why did they make it feel like I was being punished?"

"I don't know." Zhongli wanted to cross the room, wanted to gather Ajax up and comfort them, but he didn't trust himself. Not with his rut this close and Ajax looking at him like that—vulnerable and hurting and so fucking trusting. "But what they did—it wasn't right. You deserved better."

"I've never—" Ajax swallowed hard. "No one's ever helped me like you did. With the... the clinical thing. It made it feel less scary. Less bad."

"That's how it should be. Heat isn't supposed to be torture."

"Oh." Ajax wiped at their eyes with the heel of their hand. "I didn't know that."

Zhongli's chest ached. He forced himself to breathe, to think past the instinct howling at him. Ajax was still in heat—the worst of it, based on their behavior and scent. And Zhongli was deep enough in rut that his hands were trembling and his vision kept tunneling down to the omega across the room.

This was dangerous. Incredibly dangerous.

But Ajax was looking at him with those wide, tear-filled eyes, and Zhongli couldn't—wouldn't—let them suffer the way they'd been taught to expect.

"Come here," he said quietly.

Ajax stood immediately, swaying slightly, and Zhongli held up a hand.

"Slowly. And stay there." He pointed to a spot on the carpet, a safe distance away. "Don't come any closer."

Ajax obeyed, stopping where indicated. They wrapped their arms around themselves, still crying, and Zhongli could see them shaking from across the room.

"I'm going to help you," Zhongli said, keeping his voice level. "The same way I did before. But I need you to do exactly what I say. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"Go lie on the bed. Face down."

Ajax climbed onto the bed and arranged themselves as instructed, face pressed into the pillows. Zhongli gave himself a five-count, wrestling his instincts into submission, then crossed the room.

He worked quickly, clinically, just as before. But it was harder this time. His hands shook more. His breathing came rougher. Ajax made those small, overwhelmed sounds that went straight through him, and when it was done Zhongli had to retreat immediately, practically fleeing to the opposite corner.

His cock was hard now, painful against his zipper, and his skin felt too tight. The room spun slightly.

"Thank you," Ajax mumbled into the pillow. "That's... better."

Zhongli said nothing. He was focused entirely on breathing, on maintaining control, on not crossing back to that bed and—

"Zhongli?" Ajax rolled over, looking at him. "Are you okay? You sound weird."

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. You look all flushed and shaky." Ajax sat up, concerned. "Are you sick?"

"No."

"Then—oh." Understanding dawned in Ajax's eyes. "You're in rut. Because of me."

"It's not your fault."

"But I made it worse, didn't I? When I tried to..." Ajax gestured vaguely. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Everything just felt so fuzzy and you were right there and you smelled so good and I thought maybe—" They stopped, face crumpling. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't."

The lie was automatic.

"But you pushed me away."

"Because you weren't capable of consent. Not because I didn't—" Zhongli cut himself off. This was not a conversation to have while they were both compromised.

Ajax was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Did they teach you? About heats and ruts and how to manage them?"

"Yes."

"What did they teach you?"

Zhongli leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. "That rut is a biological response, not a justification. That Alphas are responsible for their actions regardless of instinct. That consent is paramount, and anyone who uses rut as an excuse for violation deserves neither respect nor mercy."

"Oh," Ajax said softly. "That sounds... better than what they taught me."

"What did they teach you?"

"That omegas in heat are basically... broken? Out of control? That we need Alphas or suppressants or restraints to function. That we can't be trusted." Ajax's voice went very small. "That we're kind of... pathetic."

Zhongli's eyes opened. "You're not pathetic."

"Ms. Chen said—"

"Ms. Chen," Zhongli said with cold precision, "is wrong. About all of it."

Ajax looked at him, and something shifted in their expression—a dawning realization, maybe, or the beginning of anger at how they'd been treated. But before they could speak, their face crumpled again and they curled forward with a pained sound.

"It's coming back," they whimpered. "The burning. It keeps coming back."

"I know. Heat cycles in waves. It will ease again soon."

"How soon?"

"I don't know. Hours, maybe."

Ajax made a broken sound. "I don't know if I can do hours."

"You can. You're stronger than you think."

"I don't feel strong. I feel—" Ajax's hands twisted in the blankets. "—I feel really small and scared and I want—" They looked up at Zhongli, and their eyes were desperate. "Can you just... sit closer? Please? You don't have to touch me, just... closer?"

Every instinct in Zhongli's body screamed at him to say no. To maintain distance. To protect them both from what might happen if he gave in even that much.

But Ajax was scared. And Zhongli was supposed to be better than his instincts.

"Alright," he said quietly. "But I'm staying in the chair. And you're staying on the bed. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Zhongli moved the reading chair closer to the bed—not close enough to touch, but close enough that Ajax could see him clearly in the dim light. He sat, forcing his posture to relax, his hands to unclench.

Ajax curled onto their side, facing him, and just looked at him for a long moment.

"You're really fighting it, aren't you?" they said softly. "The rut thing."

"Yes."

"Does it hurt? Like heat hurts?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Zhongli said again. "And even if it were—you're worth the discomfort."

Ajax's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really."

They were quiet for a while, just breathing, and Zhongli watched the cycles play across their face—pain, relief, confusion, trust. The rain had stopped at some point, leaving only silence and the sound of their breathing.

"Zhongli?" Ajax said eventually.

"Yes?"

"When this is over—when I'm not in heat anymore and you're not in rut—will you still think I'm worth it?"

Zhongli looked at them—this person who'd stumbled into his life by pure chance, who smiled at rain and forgot their phone and trusted far too easily. Who'd been taught they were broken and believed it, who'd been restrained and sedated and told it was for their own good.

Who looked at him now like he was something safe.

"Yes," Zhongli said. "I will."

-

Everything hurt again.

Ajax woke up with the burning back, worse this time, like someone had turned up the temperature inside his skin. The blankets were too heavy and too light at the same time, and he couldn't get comfortable no matter how he shifted. His stomach cramped, and lower down everything felt tight and swollen and empty in a way that made him want to cry.

He was crying, actually. Tears just kept leaking out even though he wasn't really sad, just overwhelmed and hot and confused.

Mr. Zhongli was still there in the chair. Ajax could see him in the grey almost-morning light—slumped a little, head tilted back, finally asleep. He looked uncomfortable. The chair wasn't big enough for someone as tall as him, and his long legs were stretched out awkwardly.

Ajax watched him sleep and felt something warm in his chest that had nothing to do with the heat.

Mr. Zhongli had been so nice. He'd given Ajax his coat and made him food and read him stories in that deep, rumbly voice. He'd helped with the scary burning feeling, had been gentle and careful and hadn't made Ajax feel stupid or broken even once. He'd even cleaned up the accident without getting mad, which Ajax still couldn't quite believe.

Ms. Chen would've been so mad.

But Mr. Zhongli wasn't Ms. Chen. Mr. Zhongli was different. Better.

Ajax shifted on the bed, and another cramp rolled through him. He bit his lip to keep from whimpering—didn't want to wake Mr. Zhongli up. He looked so tired, and it was Ajax's fault probably, for being difficult and needy and—

The smell hit him.

Ajax's eyes went wide, and he breathed in without meaning to. It was coming from Mr. Zhongli—that cedar and smoke smell, but thicker now, heavier, with something underneath that made Ajax's mouth water. Something dark and rich and Alpha, and it made the empty feeling inside him about a thousand times worse.

Ajax's brain went fuzzy at the edges.

He knew that smell. Sort of. He'd smelled it before, back at the care home, when Alphas came to visit and Ms. Chen hurried Ajax away to his room. She'd said it was a "rut smell" and that Ajax needed to stay far away from it because good omegas didn't bother Alphas when they were rutting.

But Mr. Zhongli had said... what had he said? That rut was biological but Alphas were still responsible? Ajax tried to remember through the heat-fog in his head. That consent was important. That no one should use rut as an excuse.

Ajax didn't really understand all the big words, but he understood that Mr. Zhongli was fighting something. Fighting it for Ajax. To keep Ajax safe.

That made the warm feeling in his chest get bigger.

But the smell was getting stronger, and Ajax couldn't stop breathing it in, and without really deciding to he slid off the bed. His legs were shaky and his coordination was all weird, but he managed to kneel down next to Mr. Zhongli's chair.

Up close, the smell was everywhere. Ajax's head swam with it.

His eyes tracked down to Mr. Zhongli's pants, and—oh. There was a bulge there, pressing against the fabric. Ajax had seen pictures of that in the health pamphlets Ms. Chen had given him (after blacking out most of the words with a marker). He knew what it meant, sort of.

Mr. Zhongli's body was reacting. To Ajax. To the heat.

Ajax's hands moved before his brain could catch up, reaching for Mr. Zhongli's waistband.

He worked the button open quietly, then the zipper—so careful, trying not to wake him. Mr. Zhongli shifted slightly but didn't wake, and Ajax held his breath. Slowly, carefully, he eased the pants down.

The smell that rose up made Ajax dizzy.

Mr. Zhongli was wearing dark boxer-briefs underneath, and there was a wet spot on them. Ajax stared at it, transfixed. He could see the outline of Mr. Zhongli's cock through the fabric—thick and hard and right there—and every instinct in Ajax's heat-addled brain screamed at him to touch, to taste, to—

No.

The thought came from somewhere deeper, cutting through the fog. Ms. Chen's voice, reciting rules that had been drilled into Ajax since presentation.

Good omegas don't touch without permission.

Good omegas wait to be told what to do.

Good omegas don't make demands on Alphas.

Ajax's hands hovered in the air, shaking. He could feel drool pooling in his mouth—actually drool, like he was some kind of animal—and he swallowed hard. The urge to lean forward, to mouth at the wet spot on Mr. Zhongli's underwear, was so strong it made his whole body tremble.

But he didn't.

He wouldn't.

Because Mr. Zhongli had been so nice and so careful, and Ajax wasn't going to ruin that by being bad. By being the kind of omega Ms. Chen always said he'd be if he wasn't controlled properly—desperate and shameless and wrong.

Ajax sat back on his heels, pulling his hands into his lap and clenching them into fists. He was breathing hard, his whole body one giant ache of want, but he didn't touch.

He was good. He could be good.

Even if it hurt.

Even if the smell was making him lightheaded and his insides felt like they were trying to turn themselves inside out.

Mr. Zhongli had asked him to be good, had trusted him to follow the rules, and Ajax wasn't going to mess that up.

But he couldn't make himself move away either.

So he just sat there, kneeling beside the chair, staring at what he couldn't have and drooling like an idiot while tears ran down his face and the burning got worse and worse.

Good omegas wait, he told himself, Ms. Chen's voice echoing in his head. Good omegas don't take. Good omegas stay in control.

Even though Ajax had never felt less in control in his entire life.

He was vaguely aware that this was probably weird—sitting here staring at Mr. Zhongli's crotch while he slept—but the heat made everything feel weird anyway, and at least Ajax wasn't touching. That had to count for something.

The sky outside was getting lighter. Ajax could see it around the edges of the curtains—grey turning to pale gold.

Morning was coming.

The heat would end eventually, Ms. Chen had always said. Everything ended eventually if you just waited it out.

So Ajax waited, kneeling on the floor in borrowed sweatpants that were still a little damp from earlier, staring at something he wanted so badly it felt like dying, and he didn't touch.

Because he was good.

He was trying so hard to be good.

Even when Mr. Zhongli shifted in his sleep and the smell got stronger and Ajax had to bite down on his own hand to keep from making a sound.

Even when fresh slick soaked through his sweatpants and made him feel embarrassed and ashamed.

Even when everything in his body screamed that this was wrong, that he should be closer, that he should be full, that Mr. Zhongli could fix it if Ajax just asked—

He didn't.

He stayed where he was, shaking and crying and drooling, and he waited.

Because that's what good omegas did.

They waited.

But.

One touch couldn't hurt, right?

Just one. Just to know what it felt like. Mr. Zhongli was asleep anyway, so he wouldn't even know, and Ajax would be so careful. So gentle. He wouldn't wake him up or anything.

Ms. Chen's voice tried to push through the fog: Good omegas don't touch without permission.

But Ms. Chen had been wrong about so many things. Mr. Zhongli had said so. She'd been wrong about heats being punishment, wrong about Ajax being broken, wrong about restraints being necessary.

Maybe she was wrong about this too.

Ajax's hand moved before he could overthink it. Just his fingertips, brushing feather-light over the wet fabric. The material was damp and warm, and underneath he could feel the hardness, the heat radiating through.

Mr. Zhongli made a sound in his sleep—low and rough—and Ajax froze.

But he didn't wake up. His breathing stayed deep and even, and after a moment Ajax let out the breath he'd been holding.

See? It was fine. Mr. Zhongli didn't even notice.

Ajax's fingers traced the outline through the fabric, following the thick length of it, and his mouth watered so much he had to swallow again. The smell was intoxicating up close, making his head spin, making the empty feeling inside him clench and pulse.

Just one lick, Ajax thought dizzily. Just to taste. Just once.

His hands shook as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of Mr. Zhongli's underwear and carefully—so carefully—eased it down.

Ajax's breath caught.

Mr. Zhongli's cock was right there, thick and flushed dark, curving up toward his stomach. There was wetness at the tip, and Ajax watched, transfixed, as another bead formed and rolled slowly down the side.

He leaned forward without thinking, tongue darting out to catch it before it fell.

The taste exploded across his tongue—salt and musk and Alpha—and Ajax moaned quietly, the sound muffled behind his closed lips. It was good. Better than good. It made every nerve ending in his body light up, made the heat flare hotter, made the emptiness inside him ache.

He licked again, this time dragging his tongue up the underside from base to tip, and Mr. Zhongli's hips twitched. Still asleep, but his body responding, and that made something hot coil in Ajax's belly.

See? Ajax's heat-fogged brain whispered. He wants this too. His body knows. It's okay.

Ajax wrapped one hand around the base—his fingers didn't quite meet—and brought his mouth to the head. He licked at the slit, gathering the wetness there, then closed his lips around it and sucked.

Mr. Zhongli groaned, still asleep, and his hand came up to rest in Ajax's hair.

Ajax's eyes fluttered closed. He sank down further, taking more, letting the weight of it rest heavy on his tongue. He'd never done this before—Ms. Chen would've killed him if she'd known he was even thinking about it—but instinct seemed to guide him. He hollowed his cheeks, sucked gently, let saliva pool around it to make it easier.

It felt right. Like this was what his mouth was made for.

He worked slowly, reverently, taking a little more with each bob of his head. Mr. Zhongli's fingers tightened in his hair—not pulling, just holding—and Ajax could hear his breathing change, getting rougher even in sleep.

But it wasn't enough.

The ache inside Ajax was getting worse, not better. His whole body felt like one exposed nerve, and the emptiness between his legs was screaming to be filled.

Ajax pulled off with a wet sound, gasping, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the flushed head of Mr. Zhongli's cock. He stared at it—thick and hard and slick with his spit—and thought: Just a little bit. Just the tip. Just to feel something there.

Ms. Chen's voice was quieter now, easier to ignore: Omegas who do this are sluts. Broken. Wrong.

But Mr. Zhongli had said Ajax wasn't broken.

And this didn't feel wrong. This felt like the only thing that made sense.

Ajax stood on shaky legs, hooking his thumbs into his sweatpants and underwear and pushing them down. Slick immediately streaked down his thighs—so much of it, more than there'd been before—and the cool air against his overheated skin made him shiver.

He climbed carefully onto Mr. Zhongli's lap, straddling his thighs. Positioned himself so he was hovering right over that hard, thick cock, feeling the heat of it even without contact.

Just a little bit, Ajax told himself. Just enough to take the edge off. Mr. Zhongli won't even wake up. It'll be okay.

He reached down, wrapped his hand around Mr. Zhongli's cock to hold it steady, and slowly—so slowly—began to sink down.

The head pressed against him, and Ajax's body opened for it easily, slick and desperate. He lowered himself another inch, and the stretch made him gasp. It burned, but in a good way, in a way that made the ache finally start to ease.

Just the tip, Ajax thought, even as he sank down another inch. Just a little more.

Mr. Zhongli was big, bigger than the clinical fingers from before, and Ajax had to stop and breathe through the stretch. But his body was made for this, designed for it, and after a moment he could sink down further.

Halfway now. Maybe more.

The feeling of fullness was incredible. Ajax's eyes rolled back, his mouth falling open on a silent moan. This was what he'd needed, what his body had been crying out for. This feeling of being stuffed full, of having something thick and hard and Alpha inside him where the emptiness had been.

He sank down further. Further.

Until he was fully seated, Mr. Zhongli's cock buried completely inside him, and Ajax could feel it everywhere—pressing against places that made stars burst behind his eyelids, stretching him so perfectly he wanted to cry from relief.

Oh, Ajax thought dizzily. Oh, this is—this is—

Mr. Zhongli's eyes opened.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Ajax sat frozen in his lap, impaled and trembling, while Mr. Zhongli stared up at him with eyes that were still hazy with sleep but sharpening fast.

"Ajax," Mr. Zhongli said, his voice a low rasp. "What—"

"I'm sorry," Ajax whispered, and tears spilled over. "I'm sorry, I know I'm bad, I know good omegas don't—but it hurt so much and you smelled so good and I just—I just needed—"

Mr. Zhongli's hands came to Ajax's hips, gripping tight, and Ajax couldn't tell if he was about to push him off or pull him closer.

Ajax held his breath.

-

For three heartbeats, Zhongli didn't move.

His mind was still clawing its way up from sleep, trying to process: the weight in his lap, the tight heat wrapped around his cock, Ajax's tear-streaked face above him, the overwhelming scent of slick and heat and omega that filled his lungs with every breath.

His hands gripped Ajax's hips hard enough to bruise.

Every civilized thought he'd built over millennia screamed at him to stop this, to lift Ajax off, to fix this mistake before it went any further. He was better than this. He was controlled. He didn't take advantage of people who couldn't consent, who were compromised by biology, who—

Ajax clenched around him, and Zhongli's thoughts went white.

The rut roared to life, drowning out everything else. His vision tunneled, sharpened, focusing on the omega in his lap with predatory intensity. Ajax was his—had sought him out, had taken him in, had seated himself so perfectly on Zhongli's cock like he was made for it.

"I tried to be good," Ajax sobbed, still talking, words spilling out in a rush. "I didn't touch for so long, I waited and waited but it hurt and you smelled so perfect and I thought just one touch, just one taste, just a little bit inside but then—then it felt so right and I couldn't stop and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, please don't hate me—"

Zhongli's hips jerked up involuntarily, driving deeper, and Ajax's words cut off in a choked moan.

"Fuck," Zhongli ground out, and his voice didn't sound like his own anymore—deeper, rougher, more animal than human.

He should stop. He should.

But Ajax was rolling his hips now, small desperate movements, taking him deeper, and the sounds he made—broken, needy little whimpers—ignited something feral in Zhongli's chest.

"Please," Ajax whispered. "Please, I need—I need—"

The last thread of Zhongli's control snapped.

He stood abruptly, taking Ajax with him, and Ajax yelped in surprise. Zhongli turned and pressed him against the wall—not gently, but not rough enough to hurt—and Ajax's legs wrapped automatically around his waist.

"You need?" Zhongli growled against Ajax's throat. "Tell me what you need."

"You," Ajax gasped. "This. Please, Mr. Zhongli, please—"

Zhongli pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in.

Ajax wailed, head thrown back against the wall, and Zhongli did it again. And again. Setting a brutal pace, giving in to every instinct he'd been suppressing for hours. The wet sounds were obscene in the quiet room—slick and skin and Ajax's breathless cries.

"Is this what you wanted?" Zhongli demanded, hips snapping forward hard enough to make Ajax bounce. "When you put your mouth on me? When you took what you weren't given?"

"Yes," Ajax sobbed. "Yes, yes, please—"

"Greedy little omega." Zhongli's teeth found Ajax's throat, not breaking skin but close. "Couldn't wait. Couldn't ask. Just took."

"I'm sorry," Ajax whimpered, but he was clinging to Zhongli's shoulders, meeting each thrust with rolls of his hips. "I'm sorry, I'm bad, I'm—oh—"

Zhongli shifted the angle and Ajax screamed, fingernails digging into Zhongli's back through his shirt.

"There?" Zhongli's voice was dark, satisfied. "That's the spot?"

"Yes—fuck—please, please don't stop—"

Zhongli had no intention of stopping. The rut had him completely now, burning through his veins, and all he could focus on was the tight heat around his cock and the omega falling apart in his arms. Ajax was perfect like this—flushed and crying and begging, taking everything Zhongli gave him and asking for more.

He pistoned his hips faster, harder, chasing something primal and inevitable. Ajax's cock was trapped between their bodies, leaking steadily, and every thrust dragged it against Zhongli's abdomen.

"Close," Ajax gasped. "I'm—I'm gonna—"

"Then come." Zhongli's hand fisted in Ajax's hair, yanking his head to the side to expose more throat. "Come on my cock like the desperate little thing you are."

Ajax shattered.

He came with a broken cry, body going rigid, clenching down so hard around Zhongli that it almost hurt. His release painted their stomachs, hot and sticky, and the scent of it—omega pleasure and satisfaction—sent Zhongli over the edge.

He buried himself to the hilt and bit—not hard enough to break skin, not a claiming bite, but enough to make Ajax sob and shudder through the aftershocks. Zhongli's orgasm rolled through him in waves, spilling deep inside Ajax's body, marking him in the most primitive way possible.

For a long moment they just stayed like that—Zhongli pinning Ajax to the wall, both of them gasping for air, Ajax's legs still locked around his waist.

Then reality began to creep back in.

What have I done.

Zhongli carefully released Ajax's throat, pulling back to look at him. Ajax's eyes were half-lidded, glazed with satisfaction, a dopey smile on his face.

"That was," Ajax mumbled, "really good."

"Ajax—"

"The burning stopped." Ajax's smile widened. "It doesn't hurt anymore. You fixed it."

Zhongli's chest tightened. He carefully pulled out—Ajax whimpering at the loss—and lowered him to the bed. His legs were shaking too badly to stand, so Zhongli sank down beside him.

"I shouldn't have—" Zhongli started, but Ajax cut him off.

"I started it," Ajax said firmly. "You were asleep. I... I did the bad thing." His expression crumpled slightly. "Are you mad?"

Mad? Zhongli looked at this person who'd been taught their desires were shameful, who'd apologized even while begging for touch, who thought they'd done something wrong.

"No," Zhongli said quietly. "I'm not mad at you."

"But I was bad. Ms. Chen always said that omegas who do that kind of thing are bad."

"Ms. Chen," Zhongli said with barely restrained fury, "is wrong. About everything. You're not bad. You were in heat. Your body was seeking relief. That's biology, not morality."

"But you said—before—about consent—"

"I did. I do." Zhongli ran a hand through his hair. "And I should have had more control. Should have stopped before—" He gestured helplessly at the evidence of what they'd done.

Ajax was quiet for a moment. Then: "Did it feel good? For you?"

"That's not the point—"

"But did it?"

Zhongli looked at Ajax's earnest, open face. "...Yes."

"Then maybe it's okay?" Ajax reached out tentatively and took Zhongli's hand. "Maybe we both needed it? And maybe that's not a bad thing?"

Zhongli wanted to argue, wanted to maintain that he should have been stronger, better, more in control. But Ajax was looking at him with such trust, such simple acceptance, that the words died in his throat.

"Maybe," he allowed quietly.

Ajax smiled and curled against his side, fitting there like he belonged. "The heat feels better now. Not gone, but... quieter."

"It will come back. In waves."

"Will you help again?" Ajax looked up at him. "Like that? It was so much better than the clinical way. Though that was nice too," he added quickly. "I liked that you were gentle. But this was... this was really good."

Zhongli should say no. Should establish boundaries. Should—

"Yes," he heard himself say. "I'll help."

Ajax's smile could have lit the entire city.

And Zhongli thought, not for the first time: I'm in so much trouble.

But as Ajax drifted off to sleep against him, sated and safe and happy, Zhongli found he didn't particularly mind.
-

Ajax woke up to the burning again, though this time it felt different. Not quite as scary. More like an insistent pull, a need that whispered instead of screamed.

He was still curled against Mr. Zhongli's side, and when he shifted, he could feel the mess between his legs—slick and Mr. Zhongli's release, sticky and cooling. It should've felt gross, but instead it made something warm bloom in his chest.

Evidence. Proof that it had really happened.

Mr. Zhongli stirred beside him, and Ajax looked up to find golden eyes already watching him.

"How do you feel?" Mr. Zhongli asked, his voice still rough.

"Burny again," Ajax admitted. "But not as bad as before. More like... like I'm hungry but not starving?"

Mr. Zhongli's hand came up to cup Ajax's face, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. "We should get you cleaned up."

"Or..." Ajax bit his lip. "Or we could do it again first? And then clean up after?"

He watched Mr. Zhongli's pupils dilate, watched the way his jaw clenched. The cedar-smoke scent intensified.

"Ajax—"

"Please?" Ajax shifted to straddle Mr. Zhongli's hips, feeling his cock already half-hard beneath him. "It helped so much. And you said you'd help when it came back."

For a moment Mr. Zhongli looked like he was going to argue. But then his hands settled on Ajax's hips—possessive, claiming—and Ajax knew he'd won.

"Turn around," Mr. Zhongli said, his voice dropping to that deep growl that made Ajax shiver.

"What?"

"Turn around. Face away from me."

Ajax scrambled to obey, turning so his back was to Mr. Zhongli's chest. Strong hands guided him into position—on his knees, still straddling Mr. Zhongli's lap but reversed now.

"This way I can control the depth," Mr. Zhongli murmured against the back of Ajax's neck. "Can make sure I don't hurt you."

Ajax hadn't even thought about being hurt, but the consideration made that warm feeling in his chest bloom bigger.

He felt Mr. Zhongli's cock press against him—already fully hard now, slick with Ajax's wetness from before—and then those hands on his hips were guiding him down.

Ajax sank onto him with a low moan. It was easier this time, his body already opened and ready, but the fullness still made his eyes roll back. He tried to set the pace, tried to lift himself up and sink back down, but Mr. Zhongli's hands tightened.

"Let me," Mr. Zhongli said.

And then he started bouncing Ajax.

His hands gripped Ajax's hips hard enough to leave marks, and he lifted Ajax up and brought him down in a steady, relentless rhythm. Ajax didn't have to do anything, didn't have to think—just let Mr. Zhongli use his body weight and strength to impale him over and over.

"Oh," Ajax gasped. "Oh, oh—"

It was so different from before. Deeper somehow. The angle meant Mr. Zhongli's cock dragged against different places inside him, and every downward drop punched the air from Ajax's lungs.

"That's it," Mr. Zhongli growled. "Take it. Just like that."

Ajax's hands scrabbled for purchase, finally gripping Mr. Zhongli's thighs. His own cock bobbed with each bounce, dripping steadily onto the sheets below, but he couldn't touch it. Could only hold on and let Mr. Zhongli move him however he wanted.

The pace increased. Mr. Zhongli's hips started thrusting up to meet each downward pull, driving impossibly deeper, and Ajax felt something shift inside him. A pressure building, a sensation he'd never felt before.

And then on one particularly deep thrust, he felt it—the head of Mr. Zhongli's cock hitting something inside him. Something that made his whole body jolt like he'd been electrocuted.

"Fuck," Ajax yelped. "What—what was that?"

Mr. Zhongli froze. "Did I hurt you?"

"No! No, it felt—" Ajax couldn't find words. "Do it again."

Mr. Zhongli adjusted the angle slightly and thrust up hard. Ajax felt it again—that pressure, that place deep inside that he didn't even know he had. It felt like Mr. Zhongli was hitting a wall, pressing against something that wanted to open.

"Is that—" Ajax's voice came out high and breathless. "What is that?"

Mr. Zhongli's breathing was ragged against the back of Ajax's neck. "Your cervix. The entrance to your womb."

Ajax's biology education had been... limited. Ms. Chen had given him pamphlets with most of the information blacked out and told him he didn't need to know the details. But he knew what a womb was. Knew that's where omega biology was supposed to—

"Can you—" Ajax swallowed hard. "Can you get in there?"

"Not like this. Not without—" Mr. Zhongli's hands tightened on his hips. "Ajax, we shouldn't—"

But he thrust up again anyway, and Ajax felt that pressure increase. Felt the head of Mr. Zhongli's cock pressing insistently against that tight entrance, and his body started responding in ways he didn't understand. Something was shifting, softening, his body trying to accommodate something it was designed for.

"It feels weird," Ajax whimpered. "But also really good? Like—like something's supposed to happen?"

"Your body is trying to accept a knot," Mr. Zhongli gritted out. "Trying to let me deeper so I can—fuck—so I can lock inside you."

"Do you have a knot?" Ajax had heard of those. Had seen diagrams before Ms. Chen blacked them out.

"Yes."

"Is it—" Ajax could barely think through the sensations. "Is it big?"

"Ajax—"

"I want it." The words came out before Ajax could stop them. "I want to feel it. Want to know what it's like."

"You don't know what you're asking." But Mr. Zhongli's hips were still moving, still driving up into Ajax, still pressing against that place that made Ajax's vision go spotty.

"Then show me," Ajax begged. "Please, Mr. Zhongli, I want—I want all of it—"

Mr. Zhongli made a sound that was barely human—something between a growl and a groan. His rhythm changed, became more purposeful. Each thrust drove a little deeper, pressed a little harder against Ajax's cervix.

And Ajax could feel his body responding. Feel that tight ring of muscle starting to give way, starting to let the thick head of Mr. Zhongli's cock push through.

"It's—oh god—it's opening," Ajax gasped. "I can feel it—"

"Stop me," Mr. Zhongli commanded, even as his hips kept moving. "Ajax, if you don't want this, stop me now."

But Ajax didn't want to stop. He wanted to know what came next. Wanted to feel what his body was so desperately trying to do.

"Don't stop," he sobbed. "Please don't stop—"

Mr. Zhongli thrust up hard, and Ajax felt it—the sudden give, the way his cervix finally opened and let Mr. Zhongli's cock slide through, into a place nothing had ever touched before.

The sensation was indescribable.

Ajax's vision whited out. Every nerve ending in his body fired at once. He felt full in a way that went beyond physical, felt connected to Mr. Zhongli in a way that seemed impossible.

And then he felt something else—a swelling at the base of Mr. Zhongli's cock, pressing against his entrance, getting bigger and bigger until—

The knot locked inside.

Ajax screamed.

Not in pain—in overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure. The knot was huge, stretching him impossibly wide, and it was pressing against places inside him that made stars burst behind his eyelids. He could feel Mr. Zhongli pulsing inside his womb, could feel the pressure building as—

Hot. Wet. Filling.

Mr. Zhongli was coming directly into his womb, and Ajax could feel it. Could feel the way his stomach was starting to swell slightly with the sheer volume of it, could feel the way his body was designed to hold every drop.

"Holy fuck," Ajax whimpered, looking down at his abdomen. "I can—I can see it—"

There was a slight bulge there now, visible proof of what was happening inside him.

Mr. Zhongli's arms came around him, pulling him back against his chest, and they stayed locked together like that—Mr. Zhongli buried impossibly deep, knot swollen and trapped, both of them shaking.

"Ajax," Mr. Zhongli breathed against his neck. "Ajax, I—"

But Ajax was too overwhelmed to hear whatever he was going to say. Too lost in the sensation of being completely, utterly filled. Of being knotted for the first time in his life.

Of feeling, for the first time, exactly what his biology had been designed for.

And it was perfect. He felt like he was floating.

The burning was completely gone now, replaced by a deep, satisfied warmth that spread from his core all the way to his fingertips. He was still locked to Mr. Zhongli—could feel the thick knot keeping them joined, could feel the occasional pulse as Mr. Zhongli's body continued to fill him in slow waves.

It felt right. Like puzzle pieces clicking together. Like coming home.

Ajax tilted his head back against Mr. Zhongli's shoulder, smiling dopily at the ceiling. "That was amazing."

Mr. Zhongli's arms tightened around him. "How do you feel? Any pain?"

"Nuh-uh. Just warm. And full." Ajax placed his hands over the small bulge in his stomach, marveling at it. "Really, really full."

"We're going to be locked like this for a while," Mr. Zhongli said quietly. "Twenty minutes at least. Maybe longer."

"That's okay." Ajax snuggled back against him, perfectly content. "I like being close to you."

Mr. Zhongli was quiet for a long moment, and Ajax could feel the tension in his body—like he was holding something back. But Ajax felt too good to worry about it. Too warm and safe and happy.

"Mr. Zhongli?" Ajax said eventually.

"Yes?"

"Does this mean we're boyfriends now?"

The tension in Mr. Zhongli's body increased. Ajax felt him take a careful breath.

"Ajax—"

"Because I've never had a boyfriend before," Ajax continued, his words coming out in a sleepy tumble. "Ms. Chen said I probably never would. That I wasn't... suitable for dating. But you've been so nice to me, and we did the sex thing, and that's what boyfriends do, right? So I thought maybe..."

He trailed off, waiting. His heart was beating faster now, a little flutter of nervousness cutting through the warm haze.

Mr. Zhongli was quiet for so long that Ajax started to worry. Maybe he'd said something wrong. Maybe he'd misunderstood what this meant. Maybe—

"Yes," Mr. Zhongli said finally, and his voice was very soft. "We're boyfriends."

Ajax's smile came back, so wide it hurt his cheeks. "Really?"

"Really."

"Oh." Ajax felt warm all over again, and this time it had nothing to do with heat or biology. "I'm really happy about that."

Mr. Zhongli's hand came up to smooth Ajax's hair back from his forehead, the gesture impossibly gentle. "Are you?"

"Uh-huh. You're the nicest person I've ever met. And you smell really good. And you make good food. And you read to me with that rumbly voice." Ajax counted off the reasons on his fingers. "And you didn't get mad when I had the accident, and you helped me when I was scared, and you make the burning stop, and—"

"Ajax." There was something strained in Mr. Zhongli's voice.

"What?"

"You don't have to... justify it. I just want you to be sure. About what you're saying."

Ajax frowned, trying to think through the pleasant fog in his brain. "I'm sure. Aren't you sure?"

Another long pause. Then: "Yes. I'm sure."

"Good." Ajax settled back against him, satisfied. "So we're boyfriends. And boyfriends do nice things for each other, right? Like you made me food and helped with my heat, so I should do nice things for you too. What kind of nice things do you like?"

"You don't need to do anything for me."

"But I want to." Ajax thought about it. "Do you like boba? I could buy you boba. Or I could—oh! I'm really good at organizing things. I could organize your books! They're already kind of organized, but I bet I could make them even better. I could do it by color, or by size, or—"

"Ajax." Mr. Zhongli's voice was thick with something Ajax couldn't quite identify. "You don't have to earn this."

"Earn what?"

"My... care. Attention. Whatever this is between us." Mr. Zhongli's arms tightened around him. "You don't have to prove your worth. You don't have to be useful. You're allowed to just... be."

Ajax turned that over in his mind. Ms. Chen had always said Ajax needed to earn his keep. Needed to prove he could be independent and functional and not a burden. But Mr. Zhongli was saying something different.

"So I can just... be your boyfriend? Without having to do stuff?"

"Yes."

"Even though I'm not very smart and I forget things and sometimes I do weird stuff?"

"Especially then." Mr. Zhongli's voice was fierce now. "Ajax, you are not a burden. You are not broken. You are not too much or not enough. You are exactly who you're supposed to be."

Ajax felt his eyes sting with tears—the good kind this time. "Ms. Chen said—"

"Ms. Chen is wrong. About everything. Do you understand me?"

Ajax nodded, not trusting his voice.

They sat like that for a while, still locked together, Mr. Zhongli's hands gentle on Ajax's skin. The knot was starting to soften slightly, Ajax could feel it, but he wasn't in any hurry for it to go down. This was nice. Being held and warm and safe.

Being someone's boyfriend.

"Can I ask you something?" Ajax said eventually.

"Of course."

"Do boyfriends kiss? Like, on the mouth?"

Mr. Zhongli made a sound that might have been a laugh. "They can, yes."

"We haven't done that yet."

"No. We haven't."

"Can we? After the knot goes down?" Ajax twisted to look at Mr. Zhongli over his shoulder. "I've never kissed anyone before. Ms. Chen said it spreads germs."

"It can," Mr. Zhongli allowed. "But that's generally considered an acceptable risk."

"So we can?"

Mr. Zhongli looked at him for a long moment, and Ajax saw something complicated in his eyes—something soft and sad and fond all at once. Then he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Ajax's temple.

"Yes," he said against Ajax's skin. "We can kiss."

Ajax beamed. "I really, really like being your boyfriend."

"I'm glad."

The knot finally released about ten minutes later, and Ajax whimpered at the sensation of Mr. Zhongli slipping out of him. He immediately felt empty again, and the loss made him want to cry.

"Shh," Mr. Zhongli soothed, carefully turning Ajax in his lap so they were face to face. "It's alright. Let's get you cleaned up."

But Ajax didn't want to move. He wrapped his arms around Mr. Zhongli's neck and buried his face against his shoulder.

"Don't wanna," he mumbled. "Wanna stay here."

"You're covered in—" Mr. Zhongli paused delicately. "—various fluids. You'll feel better after a bath."

"Only if you come too."

"Ajax—"

"Boyfriends take baths together, right?" Ajax looked up at him with wide eyes. "Please?"

Mr. Zhongli looked at him—really looked at him—and whatever he saw in Ajax's face made his expression soften completely.

"Alright," he said quietly. "We'll take a bath together."

Ajax's smile was brilliant.

And as Mr. Zhongli carried him to the bathroom, Ajax thought that maybe—just maybe—Ms. Chen had been wrong about more than just heats and restraints.

Maybe Ajax was suitable for dating.

Maybe he could have nice things.

Maybe he could have a boyfriend who smelled like cedar and smoke, who read him stories and made him food and looked at him like he was something precious.

Maybe he could have Mr. Zhongli.

-

Zhongli sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching it fill with warm water, and tried to process what he'd just agreed to.

Ajax thought they were boyfriends.

And Zhongli—Zhongli had confirmed it.

He should have corrected the assumption. Should have gently explained that heat and rut created artificial bonds, that what they'd done was born of biology rather than genuine feeling, that Ajax deserved someone who could court them properly rather than someone who'd knotted them during their first heat.

But Ajax had looked so hopeful. So happy.

And Zhongli hadn't been able to crush that.

"Is the water ready?" Ajax asked from where he was perched on the closed toilet lid, still gloriously naked and completely unselfconscious about it.

"Almost." Zhongli tested the temperature. "Another minute."

Ajax hummed happily, swinging his legs. There was a hickey blooming on his throat—Zhongli's doing—and scratches down his hips where Zhongli's fingers had gripped too hard. Evidence everywhere of what they'd done.

What Zhongli had taken.

"Stop that," Ajax said suddenly.

Zhongli looked up. "Stop what?"

"Making that face. The guilty face." Ajax stood and crossed to him, completely unbothered by the mess still coating his thighs. "You're thinking bad things about yourself again."

"I'm thinking realistic things."

"Same thing, the way you do it." Ajax cupped Zhongli's face in both hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. "I wanted it. All of it. You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do."

"You were in heat. You weren't capable of proper consent."

"Maybe not at first," Ajax allowed. "But I'm not in heat now. Not really. It's quiet again. And I still want this. Still want you." He tilted his head. "Do you not want me?"

"That's not—" Zhongli closed his eyes. "Ajax, you barely know me."

"I know you're nice. I know you helped me when you didn't have to. I know you make me feel safe." Ajax's thumbs brushed across Zhongli's cheekbones. "I know I like being around you. Isn't that enough to start with?"

"Most people require more—"

"I'm not most people." Ajax said it matter-of-factly, without shame. "Ms. Chen made sure I know that. I'm different. I think different. I need different things." He paused. "Is that okay? That I'm different?"

Zhongli opened his eyes and looked at this person who was so earnest, so genuine, so trusting despite every reason not to be.

"Yes," he said, and meant it. "It's more than okay."

Ajax's smile was like sunrise. "Then stop feeling guilty and get in the bath with your boyfriend."

Your boyfriend.

Zhongli should correct him. Should establish proper boundaries. Should—

"Alright," he said instead, and watched Ajax's smile grow even brighter.

Zhongli was in so much trouble.

-

The bath helped.

Ajax had played in the water like a child, making little waves and marveling at the fancy soap that Zhongli kept for guests. They'd washed each other—Zhongli careful and thorough, Ajax enthusiastic but clumsy—and by the time they got out, Ajax was yawning.

"Tired?" Zhongli asked, toweling Ajax's hair dry.

"Mmm. A little." Ajax leaned into the touch. "Heats always make me sleepy after. Ms. Chen said it's because my body uses up all its energy."

"That's accurate." Zhongli helped Ajax into fresh clothes—another set of his own, since Ajax's were still soaked from the rain. "You should rest."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Yes."

They settled on the bed together—freshly made with clean sheets—and Ajax immediately curled into Zhongli's side like it was the most natural thing in the world. Within minutes, his breathing had evened out into sleep.

Zhongli lay there, staring at the ceiling, Ajax's weight warm against him.

He needed to make a phone call.

Carefully, so as not to wake Ajax, Zhongli extracted himself from the bed and retrieved Ajax's phone from where it sat on the dresser. He looked at the sleeping omega one more time, then stepped out into the living room and closed the bedroom door.

He dialed Ms. Chen's number.

She answered on the second ring. "I told you I'm not responsible for—"

"This is Zhongli again," he cut her off, keeping his voice level with effort. "And I'm not calling for your help. I'm calling to inform you of my intentions."

A pause. "Intentions?"

"I want to assume guardianship of Ajax."

The silence that followed was long and sharp.

"You—what?" Ms. Chen's voice rose. "You've known them for all of one day and you think—"

"I think," Zhongli said, his voice dropping to something dangerous, "that Ajax has been failed by every system meant to protect them. Including, especially, your care home."

"Now you listen here—"

"No. You listen." Zhongli's control was fraying. "You restrained them during heats. Sedated them. Taught them their natural biology was shameful and wrong. You sent them out into the world with no support system, no emergency plan, and suppressants they didn't know how to refill. You called them a burden."

"I did no such—"

"Ajax told me. Verbatim. 'Ms. Chen says I'm a burden and I cost too much money and I should be more grateful.'" Zhongli's voice was cold now, precise. "Does that sound familiar?"

Another silence.

"Ajax is an adult," Ms. Chen said finally, her tone defensive. "They wanted independence. I gave them independence. If they can't handle it—"

"They can handle it. With proper support. Which they clearly weren't receiving from you."

"And you think you can do better? An Alpha who just happened to pick them up off the street?" Her voice turned sharp, suspicious. "What exactly happened during this heat, Mr. Zhongli?"

"Nothing that is any of your concern."

"If you've taken advantage—"

"I have provided care that Ajax needed and deserved. Care they should have been taught to seek out themselves, but weren't. Care that apparently no one in your facility bothered to ensure they understood." Zhongli's jaw clenched. "How long has Ajax been off suppressants?"

"I—I don't—"

"How. Long."

"I don't monitor their medication anymore. They're an adult. They're responsible for—"

"They have cognitive differences," Zhongli cut in. "Differences that require accommodation and support. Did you provide that support when you sent them out to live alone?"

"We provided transition training—"

"Clearly insufficient." Zhongli paced the length of his living room. "Ajax forgot where to refill their suppressants. Walked through a rainstorm during heat without seeming to notice. Approached an unknown Alpha with no sense of danger. These are not failures on Ajax's part. These are failures of the system that was supposed to prepare them."

Ms. Chen was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke again, her voice was tight. "What exactly are you proposing?"

"I want legal guardianship transferred to me. I want Ajax's medical records, their case files, everything. I want to know their diagnosis, their needs, their medication history. I want to ensure they have the support they actually need."

"You can't just—Ajax would have to agree to that. And their caseworker—"

"I'm certain Ajax will agree. As for their caseworker, I'll be happy to discuss this with them directly. Provide me with their contact information."

"This is highly irregular—"

"So is restraining adults during heat and calling it care."

Ms. Chen made an affronted sound. "Those protocols are standard for cases where the individual might harm themselves—"

"Ajax is not a danger to themselves. They're an omega experiencing a natural biological process. There is no legitimate medical reason to restrain and sedate someone through heat unless they explicitly request it. Which I'm quite certain Ajax never did."

"The doctors determined—"

"Then I'll need the names of those doctors as well. For my records."

The threat was implicit. Ms. Chen heard it.

"Fine," she bit out. "I'll send you the caseworker's information. But Ajax is going to have to confirm this themselves. I'm not just handing over guardianship to some Alpha who—"

"Of course. I would expect nothing less." Zhongli's voice was cold and professional. "I'll have Ajax contact you when they're lucid. In the meantime, send me everything you have. Medical records, case notes, all of it."

"And if Ajax doesn't want this? If they say no?"

"Then we'll proceed differently. But I suspect," Zhongli said quietly, "that Ajax will be relieved to have someone in their corner who actually cares about their wellbeing."

He ended the call before Ms. Chen could respond.

For a long moment, Zhongli stood in his living room, phone in hand, and processed what he'd just done. He'd known Ajax for less than twenty-four hours. He'd knotted them during their first heat. And now he was attempting to assume legal guardianship.

It was reckless. Impulsive. Completely unlike him.

But the thought of Ajax going back to that care home, back to Ms. Chen's cold supervision and those restraints and that isolation—

No.

Absolutely not.

The bedroom door opened, and Ajax shuffled out, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Zhongli? Where'd you go?"

"I was making a phone call. Did I wake you?"

"Nuh-uh. Just got cold without you." Ajax crossed to him and immediately tucked himself against Zhongli's side. "Who were you calling?"

Zhongli hesitated, then decided on honesty. "Ms. Chen."

Ajax tensed. "Why?"

"Because I want to take care of you. Properly. And to do that, I need to make some... arrangements."

"What kind of arrangements?"

Zhongli guided Ajax to the couch and sat them both down. "Ajax, how would you feel about me becoming your legal guardian?"

Ajax blinked at him. "What does that mean?"

"It means I would be officially responsible for your care. I could make medical decisions with you, help you manage your appointments and medications, provide support with daily living. You'd still be independent—you'd still have your own life and your own choices—but you'd have someone looking out for you. Someone who isn't Ms. Chen."

Ajax was quiet, processing. "Would I still live in my apartment? With the blue building and Mochi the fat cat?"

"If you wanted to, yes. Or—" Zhongli paused. "You could stay here. With me. We'd figure out what works best for you."

"And you'd be like... my person? The person I call when things are confusing or scary?"

"Yes. Exactly that."

"Would I still be your boyfriend?"

Zhongli's chest tightened. "Yes."

Ajax's face broke into a smile. "Then yes. I want that. I want you to be my guardian person."

"Are you sure? You don't have to decide right now—"

"I'm sure." Ajax took Zhongli's hands. "Ms. Chen was always annoyed with me. Always acting like I was inconvenient. But you're not like that. You're patient. You explain things. You don't make me feel stupid."

"You're not stupid."

"See? That." Ajax squeezed his hands. "Ms. Chen would've said 'well, try to be smarter' or something. But you just... say nice things. And mean them."

Zhongli pulled Ajax close, tucking him against his chest. "Then we'll make it official. I'll handle the paperwork. You just focus on recovering from your heat."

"Okay." Ajax snuggled closer. "Can we have more food? I'm really hungry."

"Of course. What would you like?"

"Whatever you make. Everything you cook is good."

Zhongli pressed a kiss to the top of Ajax's head—an impulse he didn't question—and stood to head to the kitchen.

He had so much to figure out. Guardianship paperwork, medical accommodations, living arrangements, how to explain this to... well, everyone. His employer. His few friends. The fact that he'd gone from solitary consultant to committed partner and guardian in the span of a single day.

But looking at Ajax—curled on his couch in his clothes, looking at him with such complete trust—Zhongli found he didn't regret a single choice.

"Zhongli?" Ajax called from the couch.

"Yes?"

"Thank you. For wanting to take care of me."

Zhongli's throat felt tight. "Thank you for letting me."

And he meant it.

-

The heat had come back in waves throughout the day, just as Zhongli had predicted. Each time, they'd dealt with it together—sometimes quick and clinical, sometimes slow and thorough. Ajax was getting better at recognizing the signs, at asking for what he needed before the desperation set in.

Now, early evening, they'd settled into something almost domestic.

Zhongli sat in his reading chair, Ajax in his lap facing away. They were joined—had been for the better part of twenty minutes—but the pace was languid, unhurried. Zhongli would lift Ajax up slowly, then guide him back down, a gentle rhythm that kept the worst of the heat at bay without overwhelming either of them.

Ajax seemed perfectly content with the arrangement. He was relaxed against Zhongli's chest, occasionally making soft pleased sounds when Zhongli hit a particularly good angle.

"Open," Zhongli murmured, bringing the glass of sparkling water to Ajax's lips.

Ajax obediently opened his mouth, and Zhongli tipped the glass carefully. Ajax drank, then made a delighted sound as the carbonation fizzed on his tongue.

"The bubbles tickle," Ajax said happily, just like he had the previous three times.

"I know."

"Can I have more?"

"In a moment. You need to pace yourself or you'll get hiccups again."

Ajax had discovered sparkling water in Zhongli's refrigerator that afternoon and had been fascinated by it ever since. Zhongli had watched, bemused, as Ajax had held a glass up to the light, watching the bubbles rise, giggling each time he took a sip.

It was... endearing. Everything about Ajax was endearing, Zhongli was discovering. The way he got excited about small things. The way he trusted so completely. The way he'd curl into Zhongli's side and fall asleep within minutes, like he'd never felt safer.

Zhongli lifted him again, slow and steady, and Ajax sighed contentedly.

"This is nice," Ajax murmured. "Not too much, not too little. Just... nice."

"Good." Zhongli pressed a kiss to the side of Ajax's neck. "Tell me if you need more."

"Okay." Ajax was quiet for a moment, just enjoying the gentle movement. Then: "Zhongli?"

"Mm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"It might be a dumb question."

"There are no dumb questions."

Ajax shifted slightly, and Zhongli stilled his movements. "What's an omega phone?"

Zhongli blinked. "A what?"

"An omega phone. I saw a commercial for one on TV earlier, when you were making lunch. It said it was designed special for omegas." Ajax tilted his head back to look at Zhongli. "Is that a real thing? Or was it like... a fake commercial?"

"No, it's real." Zhongli resumed the slow rhythm, thinking. "They're smartphones designed with omega-specific features. Simplified interfaces, heat tracking, easy access to emergency services, medication reminders. Things like that."

"Oh." Ajax was quiet for a moment. "Do you think... could I maybe get one?"

"You already have a phone."

"Yeah, but it's just a regular one. And I'm always forgetting stuff on it. Like how to find the calendar, or where I saved things, or what app does what." Ajax's voice went smaller. "Ms. Chen said I just needed to try harder to remember. But I do try, and I still forget."

Zhongli's jaw tightened at yet another example of Ms. Chen's utter failure to provide appropriate support. "An omega phone might help with that. They're designed to be more intuitive."

"Really?" Ajax perked up. "So it's not just... a thing for omegas who are bad at regular phones?"

"It's a thing for omegas whose needs aren't met by standard technology. Which is not the same as being 'bad' at anything."

"Oh." Ajax processed this. "Could we... could we maybe get one? I have money from my job. I can pay for it."

"We can get you one," Zhongli agreed. "And you don't need to pay for it. I'll handle it."

"But—"

"Ajax." Zhongli lifted him up and brought him down a bit more firmly, making Ajax gasp. "I'm going to be your guardian. That means I provide for your needs. A phone that actually works for you is a need, not a luxury."

"Ms. Chen said the omega phones were overpriced and unnecessary—"

"Ms. Chen," Zhongli said with barely controlled frustration, "is wrong about everything. We've established this."

Ajax was quiet for a moment, and Zhongli could feel him thinking. "Can I have the bubbles again?"

Zhongli brought the glass back to Ajax's lips, and Ajax drank, making happy sounds at the fizz.

"If I get an omega phone," Ajax said after he'd swallowed, "can you help me set it up? The instructions for my regular phone were really confusing. They used a lot of big words."

"Of course I'll help." Zhongli adjusted his angle slightly, and Ajax made a pleased sound. "We can go tomorrow if you're feeling up to it. Or we can order one online."

"Can we go to the store? I like seeing things in person before I buy them. Plus the store near my apartment has a really nice lady who works there who always explains things slow for me."

"Then we'll go to the store."

"And after, can we get boba?"

Zhongli smiled against Ajax's neck. "Yes. We can get boba."

"You're really good at being a boyfriend," Ajax said happily. "And a guardian person."

"I'm trying."

"You're doing better than trying. You're doing good." Ajax shifted, trying to turn in Zhongli's lap, and Zhongli carefully helped him rearrange so they were face to face.

The change in angle made them both groan softly. Like this, Ajax could sink down fully, taking Zhongli impossibly deep.

"Hi," Ajax said, smiling at him.

"Hello."

"Can I have a kiss? A real one, on the mouth?"

They still hadn't kissed properly. Zhongli had been avoiding it, though he couldn't articulate exactly why. Perhaps because it felt more intimate than everything else they'd done. More like a promise.

But Ajax was looking at him with those wide, hopeful eyes, and Zhongli was powerless to deny him anything.

"Yes," he said quietly.

Ajax leaned forward, eager but uncertain, and Zhongli cupped his face gently, guiding him. Their lips met softly—tentative, exploratory. Ajax made a small, surprised sound, and Zhongli took advantage of his parted lips to deepen the kiss.

Ajax melted into it, hands coming up to grip Zhongli's shoulders. He kissed like someone who'd never done it before—clumsy but enthusiastic, following Zhongli's lead, learning quickly.

When they finally pulled apart, Ajax was flushed and breathless and smiling.

"Wow," he said. "That was... wow."

"Good wow?"

"Really good wow." Ajax kissed him again, quick and sweet. "Can we do that more?"

"We can do that as often as you like."

Ajax beamed, then settled back against Zhongli's chest, still smiling. Zhongli resumed the slow, steady rhythm—lifting and lowering Ajax in his lap—while Ajax made happy sounds and occasionally asked for more sparkling water.

It was domestic. Intimate. Strange and perfect all at once.

"Zhongli?" Ajax said after a while.

"Yes?"

"I'm really glad I walked through the rain yesterday. Even though I got really wet and probably looked silly."

"You didn't look silly."

"Ms. Chen would've said I looked silly. And irresponsible. And that I should've known better than to go out without an umbrella."

"Well, I'm glad you went out without an umbrella," Zhongli said, and meant it. "Otherwise we wouldn't have met."

Ajax twisted to look at him, and his expression was soft and wondering. "You're glad we met?"

"Very glad."

"Even though I was all weird and in heat and probably really annoying?"

"You weren't annoying. You were—" Zhongli paused, searching for the right word. "—you were exactly who you needed to be."

Ajax's eyes got suspiciously shiny. "You're gonna make me cry again."

"Happy tears or sad tears?"

"Happy ones. I cry a lot when I'm happy. Ms. Chen said it was excessive."

"It's not excessive. It's sweet."

Ajax did cry then, just a little, and Zhongli kissed the tears away while continuing to move him slowly, steadily, keeping the heat at bay.

Outside, the sun was setting, painting the apartment in shades of gold and amber. The storm from yesterday was long gone, replaced by clear skies and the promise of better weather.

"Zhongli?" Ajax said eventually.

"Mm?"

"After we get the omega phone tomorrow, and after we get boba... can we come back here and do this again?"

Zhongli's chest felt tight with something warm and overwhelming. "Yes. We can do this as often as you need."

"I need it a lot," Ajax admitted. "Is that okay?"

"It's more than okay."

Ajax smiled and settled back against him, trusting and content and his.

And Zhongli thought, not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, that stumbling into each other in a rainstorm might have been the best accident of both their lives.