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A firebrand steps off a Snezhnayan ship and onto Ritou’s docks.
Thoma approaches him first with the clap of his hand on a shoulder. The red scarf ‘round the foreigner’s collar slips between Thoma’s fingers. They exchange greetings in another language—Snezhnayan, Ayato presumes. The foreigner wears the mask of a Fatuus pinned lazily to his hair. Ayato reasons that this twig of a man must be the Harbinger that Aether previously complained about.
In Teyvat’s common tongue, the Harbinger says, “Finally, a friendly face. One that doesn't look like it wants to ship me in a crate without airholes.”
“It’s good to see you standing upright,” Thoma says. "I take it your trip was better than last time?"
"Much better. Thank you for the pre-arrangements. I didn’t know Inazuma could be so agreeable.”
Ayato waits a distance behind Thoma with his arms folded over his chest. Aether, beside him, mimics the posture.
“Your friend?” Ayato asks.
Aether rubs his forehead. “No. But sure, let’s go with that.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“It’s complicated. Probably a good thing Paimon is with the girls.”
“The floating one doesn’t like him?”
Aether stares at Thoma and the Harbinger, expressionless, for an uncomfortable length of time. That answers that question.
Thoma leads Aether’s associate over with an arm around the Harbinger’s shoulder. They bump elbows, crack jokes between themselves.
“Long time no see, comrade,” the Harbinger says. He ruffles the top of Aether’s head, loosening the poor boy’s braid.
“Can you go one day without getting in my business?” Aether swats the hand away but the touch lingers. His gaze is hard but his cheeks are red, puffed like a fish.
“I did. It was dreadfully boring. If not for my own invitation from the Yashiro Commissioner, I’d be stuck at an inn or stuffed in a box.”
“How did you get an invitation?” Aether looks to Ayato, fear written onto his face. Ayato wants to make him cry.
Ayato shrugs. It was Thoma’s idea to invite his and Aether’s mutual friend; Ayato just so happened to follow through with it.
Aether grabs Thoma by the vest and shakes him. “Thoma. What have you done? How could you do this to me?”
The Harbinger sidesteps Thoma’s demise and approaches Ayato. He bows deep enough at the waist to glance upwards with a wry grin. It’s one Ayato recognizes well in men that cannot be trusted. Still, he is not what Ayato would expect of one of the Cryo Archon’s chosen. He’s less decorated than the late Fair Lady; less crabby, it seems, than the Balladeer.
“An honor to be an official guest of the Kamisato Clan,” he says.
Ayato nods. “May this occasion lead to a mutually-beneficial business partnership.”
“Forgive me, Lord Kamisato, but I didn’t accept your invitation so we could do business. Not on this trip, anyway. Perhaps when we’re better acquainted.”
He quirks a brow. “Oh?”
The Harbinger rights himself and settles his hands on his hips. “I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”
Ayato nearly laughs at him. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“Only the positive one, I hope. I have a lot of good stories from Thoma. And from Aether. Aether and I go way back.”
Aether whips around. His braid whacks the Harbinger’s rear. The Harbinger catches the tail of it. Aether bats him away. They have a slap-fight. Like children. “It is not way back.”
Thoma sighs. It’s a bit wistful. A bit hollow. “I’m getting secondhand nostalgia.”
Were he a lesser man, Ayato would be envious of the Harbinger, here—of Aether, too, perhaps—but few men are better men than Kamisato Ayato.
This thought sparks an idea. It forms in Ayato’s mind’s eye and takes shape around the mysterious blond traveler.
He smiles behind his hand. Perhaps there’s a use for his new little companion yet.
***
“Lord Kamisato, please. I don’t want to make this personal adventure a professional one. While I appreciate the offer, I don’t think I can take you up on it,” Tartaglia says.
Ayato tilts his head innocently. “That’s certainly a notion, when you have business with your friend here.”
The attendant pokes their head into the sitting room. Ayato permits them to drop off towels and the sakura shrimp crackers that Aether requested. Tartaglia makes a face at the tray of snacks, as if they’ve offended him.
Aether rolls his eyes and munches a cracker. “Still not friends.”
Tartaglia’s hand flies to his chest to clutch his pearls where there are none. “I thought we were getting somewhere.”
“Perhaps you can take that somewhere further,” Ayato suggests lightly. “Something that includes more than what it currently does and offers more benefits. Is adequately, mutually beneficial.”
“Yeah,” Aether says, “because right now he’s the one that gets all the good stuff out of this.”
“After all we’ve done together. I’m wounded,” Tartaglia says.
“Good.”
Ayato smiles and sips his tea. “This is, unfortunately, a circumstance you neglected to inform Thoma and me of before our proposition, Aether. I fear we may have negotiated under false pretenses.”
“How is this information relevant?”
“If you’re going to fuck around, you should be straightforward. Informed consent is important, comrade. What if Kamisato Ayato doesn’t want to hit it because you’ve already been involved with me?” Tartaglia holds up a sakura crisp and inspects it.
“Why would that be a problem?”
“Inazuma and Snezhnaya aren’t known for getting along, historically.”
It’s an understatement, Ayato thinks, were there ever one. His attitude is by no means the norm.
“I’m not even from Teyvat,” Aether reminds them.
“But you are currently in Teyvat. Be more honest if you don’t want someone else talking about your sex life,” Tartaglia says. He glances to Ayato, who snickers. “You agree, then?”
“If you are upfront to begin with there’s no need for someone else to provide details that you avoid. Wouldn’t it be more effective to say what you mean?”
Aether holds up a hand in protest. He stuffs another cracker in his mouth and crunches at it loudly. He makes his thoughts known that way. “Both of you are hypocrites. I should’ve known you’d get along swimmingly.”
“Oh? The Commissioner likes to swim?” Tartaglia asks.
“I have a Hydro Vision myself,” Ayato says.
Tartaglia grins. “No shit.”
“‘No shit,’ indeed, Sir Harbinger.”
“Call me Childe. I don’t like using my title off-duty.” He reaches for a cracker. Aether snatches it from him. Petulant. They bicker back and forth, and Ayato wonders if their not-friendship is more common than his own with Thoma.
Ayato chuckles to himself. It is funny, really. Funny enough, it seems, that Aether frowns at him like he has two heads. Childe, however, offers a knowing look. Something clicks, then. Ayato feels it beneath his robes. His skin prickles and the hairs stand up on his arms.
Childe is like him, he thinks. What an intriguing turn of events. Without breaking eye contact, Childe slips his hand into Aether’s lap where the robe parts between his legs.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Aether asks.
“Sorry, sorry. I think I found something that Kamisato-san and I share interest in. That’s all.” He traces up the exposed thigh and fidgets with the hem of Aether’s underthings.
“You’re joking.”
“It is pretty funny, isn’t it?”
Ayato nods. “Hilarious.”
Aether looks between them and his jaw drops. He points an accusing finger at one, then the other, then back and forth until he appears to have registered the situation. It’s cute, if not a bit pathetic. But if Aether can handle this little predicament, perhaps Ayato will let him fawn over Thoma some more. First, Aether has to win his approval; rumors have it that Kamisato Ayato is a hard man to impress.
Childe tugs the stunned traveler into his lap. Oh dear, is Aether a cute little thing. He looks smaller with a tall man’s chest curled against his back. Ayato pictures what the sister Aether mentioned might look like, and whether she, too, is tiny. He's always enjoyed the idea of taking siblings. (Not his own sibling, of course.)
Ayato is comfortable watching from across the kotatsu. He’s entertained by Aether’s reactions to each of Childe’s touches—touches which seem quite practiced. One hand splays across a thigh and the other stretches across Aether’s chest. It’s narrow, for what definition there is. He’s wiry. Childe hasn’t taken his gloves off, Ayato notices, but he will sit bare-assed in a thin robe without undergarments. What a card he is. How shameless. Aether is no better, though; he allows himself to be handled this way and that until he’s exposed across Childe’s thighs.
“He’s pretty, isn’t he?” Childe asks. “Handsome little guy.”
“Lovely.” Ayato trains his gaze on Aether’s. Aether cowers into Childe, which only serves to expose him further. Ayato laughs at this. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. You’re among familiar company, aren’t you?”
Aether fumes. His cheeks are red. A bead of sweat trails down his forehead. “Familiar my ass.”
“Familiar with your ass.” Childe cants his hips to grind against him. This aggravates Aether further. Adorable.
“A demonstration, then, if you would. An introduction for a new member of your harem, hm, Aether?” Ayato teases.
“I don’t have a harem,” Aether says. He shakes his head, only for Childe to plant his chin atop it to keep him from moving.
“Multiple attractive men, some of the finest in Teyvat, willing to fuck you when you’re feeling needy? That sounds like a harem to me.” Childe nuzzles the top of Aether’s head as one might a puppy’s. He nips at the cartilage of Aether’s ear and rolls it between his teeth.
Aether squirms. “It’s not a harem. You’re the only dumbass I’ve been involved with since I got here.”
“Since you ‘got here’ to Inazuma?” Ayato asks this knowing well the intended meaning. Call it his antagonistic streak. “My, I wonder how many of Teyvat’s finest men you’ve taken. Perhaps you’ll indulge me?”
“Since I got to Teyvat. Ugh. I don’t need this shit.” Aether tries and fails to elbow Childe. They squabble, Aether attempting to get up, Childe sufficiently preventing it.
“That’s not what you usually say before you beg for my cock.”
“I’m going to end you.”
Childe lets out a thoughtful sound. Then he presses his lips to Aether’s ear and groans, long and low. Ayato can see the steaming breaths from his mouth. The tea, maybe.
“Do it, comrade. End me. Be so good for me I have a heart attack while bending you in half over this table.”
Aether makes an inhuman noise of distress, and Ayato struggles not to laugh. They’re novel things, the sounds the foreigner makes. He’d thought about it before, but Ayato now swears to himself he’ll get Aether to cry. Perhaps he’ll get Childe to shed a masculine tear or two while he’s at it.
***
“Aether, how are you so cute?” Childe grumbles into Aether’s hair. An interesting juxtaposition against how cruel he’s being.
“Fuck off” is the quick reply.
Childe laughs. He tucks his fingers deep into the blond braid and wraps it around his hand. With his fingers at the base, he tugs the whole of Aether’s head and body, forcing Aether’s back to arch deeper, deeper still, until Aether is scrambling at the table. He’s scratching for purchase where there’s none to be found. Aether reaches for Ayato, and Ayato slides his hand away. He raises an eyebrow, makes eye contact with him. There’s a plea for help in there. Ayato ignores it.
“You’re doing perfectly well without assistance,” he says.
Aether whines.
“Is that so?”
His body is pulled up to Childe’s, his back curved to the bend of Childe’s abdomen, propped up on shaking knees with his ass resting on Childe’s thighs. Aether’s muscles flex, straining to hold him in the position while he receives a particularly harsh thrust. He grunts.
Childe hums a thought, then nods. “I see. That is quite the conundrum, isn’t it? Poor thing.”
Ayato nearly snorts.
Aether whimpers. Discomfort, perhaps? His stomach is pulled taut with the bend of his back. He does seem to be struggling. Regardless, Ayato is amused. He leans over the table and snatches Aether’s chin in one hand while balancing himself with the other. His fingers splay across the fine wood grain. Aether once again fails to catch him.
“You don’t need to do that,” Ayato says. “You seem to be enjoying this plenty as-is.” He is, of course, correct. Aether’s pretty dick is erect with precome gathered at the tip. It’s larger than Ayato would expect relative to Aether’s size, and Ayato is, admittedly, a little impressed. For as right as he is about everything all the time, he was wrong about that. It’s a pleasant surprise.
Aether can’t respond. His mouth is stuck open as he chokes on his breaths.
“Thick foreign cock does it for you, I see,” he tuts.
“Foreign to you,” Childe quips. “Aether is well-acquainted with this.” He presses into Aether’s stomach. Aether gags.
Ayato tilts Aether’s head left, then right, then up, then down. He takes measurements and mental notes. “All of Teyvat is foreign to a traveler of the stars.” He eyes Childe. “‘All of Teyvat’ includes your dick.”
“I’m right here,” Aether chokes out.
Childe laughs. He mouths at the nape of Aether’s neck, near Ayato’s stretched fingers. “You are, aren’t you?”
“How fortunate a tourist you are, taking the best that Teyvat has to offer,” Ayato says.
Childe winks over Aether’s shoulder. “I’m flattered.”
Ayato smiles at him. “I wasn’t referring to you.”
“Who else could you be talking about?”
“He is in Inazuma with the head of the Kamisato Clan. He could not have a better man here.” Save for Thoma, Ayato thinks, but he’s still deciding whether or not to let Aether touch Thoma like this.
“I disagree.”
“Same,” Aether squawks.
“Thoma is a measurably better man than either of us,” Childe says. Ayato could kill him for reading his mind. “How’s his dick?” On second thought, Ayato will kill him for reading his mind. Later, though, when Aether won’t see it.
“Confidential.” Ayato crawls across the cleared part of the table, avoiding further mess. He leans into Aether’s personal space, pours himself a fresh cup of tea, and takes a sip. “Are you curious as well?”
Aether glares at him—tries to, at least. “Fuck both of you.”
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Childe asks.
“No, I—”
Aether is interrupted by a pull at his roots and Childe’s hips meeting his ass. Childe laughs, but Aether’s sounds are filthy. The contrast is striking.
Ayato tips his cup at Aether’s shoulder, and tea dribbles down the curve of Aether’s collar and spine alike. Aether gasps, grunts, makes such entertaining little noises. It likely stings to have hot tea poured down his body, but he takes it in stride, even as it travels down his stomach to the base of his member. Behind him, Childe pulls a hiss between his teeth. He laps at the blade of Aether’s shoulder, perhaps to prevent more tea from sticking to his chest and chasing his dick. But when Ayato’s cup is empty, he takes up the teapot and continues.
“What the fuck?” Childe’s voice cracks. It’s almost cute.
Ayato scolds him. “Hush. Aether is taking this well. You should be able to as well. To think my retainer values the company of such a weak man.”
Aether snickers. Ayato grabs his dick. His regret is instant, squeaked out above Childe’s complaining. There’s something about the tea being unpleasantly hot and making sweat sweatier. What a pitiful mess the two are. A pitiful, sticky mess; the perfect type of mess for his beloved pet to clean up when the children are done playing. What they lack in tact they compensate for with enthusiasm, at the very least.
They both deserve a reward for entertaining him.
Ayato fills his cup once more, drinks from it, but does not swallow. He reels Childe in by the cut of his jaw and kisses him on the mouth. He fills Childe’s mouth with tea and tongue. His surprise is loud as Aether’s as he chokes, coughs, struggles to take what Ayato gives him. It spills from his lips when Ayato pulls away. Drips down his chin. Enticing.
Aether, on the other hand, receives a gentle kiss. His is soft and steady. It’s a light thing, but his eyes flutter shut despite Childe fucking him harder than before. Ayato steals another kiss. Then another, another until Aether is sinking forward into him and Childe’s hold loosens from the daze Ayato left him in.
Ayato revels in this.
“You’re gorgeous. Both of you. Fuck, that’s so hot,” Childe mutters into Aether’s shoulder. He sucks tea from it until his lips leave a little red mark. The man swoons—swoons, ridiculous—as he settles his weight against Aether’s body. He’s holding Aether close and planting sticky kisses along his upper back, drawing his nose along the curve of bone and muscle.
Aether wiggles, but Ayato keeps him firmly in place from the front. Where they’re met at the mouth, Ayato pulls back to leer at the friends his pet has made. Their faces are reddened and ruddy, with sweat and tears indistinguishable from each other. Those robes will have to be burned after this debauchery. Aether’s underthings that are stretched around his spread thighs will likely never fit again. There’s an appeal to it. An odd one, to be sure, but an appeal nonetheless.
Perhaps, Ayato thinks, there is use for both of his new companions.