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It just felt like the right thing to do, after everything that happened in Port Ormos. They weren't supposed to linger, of course; their business was concluded and each had benefited from the other's assistance. Aether was meant to go on his way, Alhaitham towards his own. They would each take separate paths, and then, perhaps, they would never see each other again.
Of course, Aether knows the rules of Teyvat by now.
No one who owns a Vision is ever likely to escape the threads of fate around him.
The flexible heat of Alhaitham’s tongue flicks against the traveler's sensitive cock, again and again — it makes Aether shudder, makes the scribe's impossibly vivid green eyes darken with lust as he watches the traveler twitch and whimper beneath his ministrations. Alhaitham lets out a long sigh, his hot breath ghosting against the throbbing ache between the blond outlander's legs, and then he hooks Aether's legs over his shoulders more firmly, his grip so tight around the traveler's ankles that it sends a thrill of improbable arousal right through him.
"So sensitive," the man chides, licking his lips clean as he cruelly rubs the head of Aether’s cock with an index finger, back and forth, back and forth, overloading him with rich sensation. "Are you close?"
Aether's eyelids flutter shut. He doesn't think he could even kick himself out of the scribe's grip if he tried. He tries to reply, but his voice only comes out as a strained moan, and — and then Alhaitham shoves his back against the mattress again, spreading his legs wide, ignoring the way his wrists have been tied to the headboard.
"No," Aether lies, trying to maintain some kind of dignity. "I... I promised you thirty minutes."
The scribe's stoic expression doesn't change, but Aether swears, in the dim light, that the corners of his lips quirk upward.
"Good. Because I'm getting my money's worth."
Thirty minutes for one million Mora. It was Alhaitham's idea first and foremost; Aether only meant to offer him the night together, but he was the one to put a price on it. Apparently, he doesn't like the idea of sex without strings attached. Easier for him to negotiate boundaries when there are terms and conditions around the entire thing — when it's a transaction and not just a thing that people do together when they find each other attractive.
(And, oh, did they each find the other attractive. Aether's gaze lingered on the curves beneath Alhaitham's tight shirt; Alhaitham's eyes assessed the narrow line of Aether's waist — things like the Akademiya and the knowledge of the gods were important to both of them, certainly, but it was clear from the moment they each locked eyes on the other that their mission was not going to end in anything other than this.)
"Isn't it the Akademiya's money anyway?" Aether teases, tipping his head to one side in a sultry, come-hither gesture.
He might be tied up, but that doesn't mean he can't still goad Alhaitham further; he can tell that his flirtatious demeanor is driving the scribe wild, for all that it doesn't show on his stern features. Alhaitham's palms are already on his thighs, spreading him wide where the scribe already fingered him loose and wanting earlier in the evening, but the traveler spreads them even further than Alhaitham demands. He'll need the extra space, given how incredibly thick the man's cock looks, throbbing darkly between his legs.
"It is," the scribe replies, with surprising humor. "I'll have to file an expense report for the needy slut I bought in Port Ormos."
Then he eases himself inside of Aether with one long, slick stroke of the hips, and the pleasure hits Aether so hard that he feels his own cock throb.
In the darkness, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight through the window, Alhaitham is beautiful. Handsome, impossibly tall, thickly built. Terrifying, too, in certain ways, but Aether isn't scared. Can't be scared of the way the man's long fingers stroke him so gently even as they demand his submission. The traveler doesn't trust others very easily — doesn't even trust Alhaitham himself, at the end of the day — but he let the scribe tie him up because it was clear, from the way he acted, that he would not tolerate anything less than total and complete dominance over the situation.
He’s merciless, the way he slams deep into Aether's ass again and again and again. Chastising, too, though Aether can hardly hear him over the sounds of his own moaning — over the infinite pleasure of being conquered in such hungry, demanding, rabid fashion.
"I'll let the Sages know it was necessary," Alhaitham continues coldly, beneath the slight hitch in his voice that sounds like a stifled moan. “Write a detailed description of how hard I fucked you, and how desperately you begged for my cock.”
Aether wants to snap something witty back at the scribe, truly he does, but Alhaitham’s thick cock is driving him to near-madness, and all he can think to do as the man hits his prostate over and over and over again is give in to his instincts and come one more time. His body jerks a little in the hold Alhaitham has over his hips; his ejaculate is still rich and thick despite the number of times his lover for the evening has made him come already, which is perhaps what makes the man grunt with mild interest — or perhaps dissatisfaction — and fondle Aether's balls more roughly as he keeps fucking the traveler with all the relentless force of the ocean tides. It makes the poor youth jerk to attention again, feeling full and used and satisfyingly violated.
Past a moan, Aether manages, desperately: "I didn't — didn't beg."
The scribe shoves him into the pillows, muffling his words, though not quite so unkindly that Aether can’t breathe. “Save your breath,” Alhaitham grunts, hips still snapping at a breakneck pace as he fucks Aether into a mindless reverie of lust. “You wanted this, traveler. You’ve wanted this since you first laid eyes on me at the café."
"You — ah — w-wanted me, too —"
“I did,” Alhaitham retorts without shame, his voice hot and low, finally giving in to his own instincts as he growls, beastlike and guttural, pulling Aether down onto his cock as the tight, needy squeeze of the traveler's hole finally tips him over the edge and he comes hot and sticky into Aether's abused ass. His cock is easily one of the biggest Aether has ever taken, and he's been exquisitely rough; when he pulls out, he leaves Aether gaping, dripping his seed onto the sheets. Oozing, full.
The traveler’s eyes are full of nothing but pleasure; he has never before been so satisfied, nor tasted such surrender. Nevertheless, he manages to stir himself from his orgasmic reverie and props himself up onto his elbow, gasping weakly for breath.
"P-Put it... in the Akasha Terminal," he murmurs, still teasing despite the way he's been stuffed full of Alhaitham's cum. "Let everyone in Sumeru know that you fucked me... every time they look at me."
"I could do that," Alhaitham responds, his own voice much more ragged now that he's come. "''Aether. Traveler. Alhaitham's whore.' How's that for your entry?"
Aether gasps before he can answer — Alhaitham has seized upon him again, savagely, and is licking his insides clean with reckless abandon. The scribe's tongue is in his ass, flitting across the traveler’s sore but still sensitive prostate; Aether swears he comes a fifth or sixth time as he squeezes the sheets between his fingers and the world melts around him for a moment.
“You're such a beast,” the traveler answers hoarsely, but not with displeasure. “You're so — ah, please, Haitham —”
The scribe's expression never changes, but he finally loosens Aether's scarf from where it's been tying his wrists together. Aether groans with pleasure at the feeling of finally being freed, but freedom is a fleeting thing, in Alhaitham's hands. In the next instant, the man's strong arms and legs are caging him in, and the traveler suspects, all too late, that he's bitten off more than he can chew.
"New proposal for you," Alhaitham cuts in. "Two hours, four million. You have no reason to refuse."