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As the youngest leader of the Tri-Commission, Ayato made it a point to meticulously plot out every single one of his actions: meetings, political parties, contracts, and most certainly his heats. Because as the only omega in any position of power or influence, he had a certain reputation to uphold.
(That, and he didn’t need anyone to know how desperate he became at the mere thought of his mate’s knot. … Well, anyone besides Thoma.)
So, needless to say, sitting with his legs neatly folded under him, gaze trained to a mountain of paperwork, now was not the time for his body to utterly betray him.
It starts with a prick of heat at the base of his neck. The fuzziness of his eyes follows, which he discounts as fatigue from dry paperwork and mindless business ramblings happening across the table from it. The curl of his stomach he can even blame on the strange hotpot the night before (and Thoma had warned him not to do it the night before an exceptionally important meeting with a businessman from Liyue, but Ayato had leaned close, curled a finger under his chin, and told him simply, You’ll take care of me, won’t you, Thoma?).
What he can’t ignore is the hypersensitivity that begins the second Thoma steps into the room. The blonde is carrying a tray of tea and has the faintest sheen of sweat; he’s likely finished training for the day, out in the hot summer sun, and the mental image has Ayato’s throat dry and hands clutching the paper until his knuckles turn white.
There’s an errant piece of hair that’s come free from the fastening in Thoma’s hair. It curls down at his nape, cute and mostly out of sight, but Ayato knows how Thoma’s hair gets when it’s wet. He knows how all of Thoma gets when he’s wet.
Ayato brings a hand up to clasp the back of his neck. There, he finds a few beads of sweat and he mentally curses himself for acting like a dog in heat. In a way, that’s what he is, as he much as he rallies against the way nature overpowers him each and every time. He’s lost count of the ways he’s shamed himself by begging on all fours for Thoma’s cock in any way he can have it — down his throat, thrusting between his thighs, buried deep inside him, coming on his face.
Ayato sits up straighter when he hears the businessman clear his throat. A porcelain smile creeps up on Ayato’s face as he reaches for the tea that Thoma places at his side.
This close, he can smell the burn of timber, the freshness of grass, the rays of sun. It mixes together in an intoxicating way that sends him back to teenage years spent out watching sunsets and learning each other’s bodies before they even knew what it truly meant to be in love.
Thoma’s scent calms him to the core. But when he’s overheated like this, teetering on the edge —
Ayato’s mind comes to an abrupt halt. Teetering on the edge? Oh, stars, he isn’t going into heat, is he?
The mortifying realization hits him with the weight of a million Mora. Ayato nearly knocks the tea off the table as he jerks. Thoma, who has just set the tea down for their guest, gives him a curious look, concern flickering in the corners of his eyes.
“Is there any chance to postpone the remainder of this meeting?” Ayato asks, voice deceptively level as he feels his cock begin to twitch and a certain wetness beginning to drip from his body. “I would like the night to mull over the details before formally committing.”
The businessman chuckles, unfazed. “This isn’t your way of trying to get yourself out of this deal, is it?”
“Not at all.” Ayato’s smile is pleasant even as he restlessly toys with the fabric high on his neck, feeling constricted and suffocated.
At this point, Thoma seems to have caught on to his lord’s ailment. Thoma’s eyes widen and he begins rearranging paperwork and tidying up the table, making smalltalk with their guest about how he can arrange for a room in the Estate if he would prefer not to travel this late at night. While Thoma handles the dirty details, as he always does, Ayato stares at a spot across the room.
He feels exceedingly empty. Even more, he feels so far away from Thoma. If he could just reach out and take that jacket of his, and perhaps those dog tags and his boots, and settle in his futon and wait, maybe he could stroke himself off while Thoma took care of formalities.
The slick between his thighs worsens.
At this point, Ayato is flushed and restlessly grinding his teeth together. He hears bits of the conversation, fluttering into his clouded mind, and he comments airily, “Oh? I hadn’t heard that custom before. You’ll have to tell us more about it tomorrow.”
How many ways can he politely dismiss someone?
Ayato is burning up. He rises from the floor, acutely aware of where he needs to place his hands to hide the prominent bulge in his pants and potential stain in the back of them. His jacket does a decent job of draping in all the right ways, but he worries that, even as a mated omega, his scent will waft over to the businessman if he’s an alpha and — and that would be troublesome.
(A sick part of Ayato wants it, though, to see Thoma dip into that primal nature of his and guard and protect. Ayato is not a fan of jealousy, not often, but Thoma’s fiery devotion to him and claiming him has always been an easy way to get Ayato hard.)
“Don’t worry, my lord. I’ll meet up with you to finish discussing the details,” Thoma tells him, tossing him a saccharine smile that makes Ayato almost feel guilty.
He excuses himself shortly after, heading to his private quarters.
* * * *
“Thoma,” Ayato grunts, his face pushed hard into the pillows, hair splayed in every reach way, drenched in sweat.
His heat has hit him in full force, now that they are alone and tangled in the sheets of his futon. The second Thoma had leaned in to kiss him, Ayato had felt himself come apart bit by bit, almost orgasming from the smooth heat against his mouth alone.
By the time Thoma undresses him, Ayato is already soaked, the insides of his thighs covered in a thick layer of slick. Ayato’s eyes are blown wide with lust, too, and he keeps murmuring little nonsensical things to Thoma as he all but tears his retainer’s clothes off.
But the second Thoma has them down to nothing, Ayato pushed into the futon and Thoma on top of him, Ayato thinks he can breathe. Just once, just twice, enough to regain his balance in the world as his thighs quake and his body throbs with how empty he is.
“How would you like it, my lord?” Thoma whispers, stamping the words against Ayato’s jaw as his masterful hands curl around the base of Ayato’s cock.
The touch alone has Ayato coming for the first time that evening. Even so, the hot release only reduces the tension in his body minimally, and Ayato feels more sexually frustrated than he had been sitting over paperwork.
Thoma chuckles against his ear and then plants a kiss to his lord’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen you go into heat like this before. Usually it’s a week from now…” he mumbles, kissing over marks that he renews with his teeth.
“How troubling,” Ayato teases, though his voice cracks as Thoma begins to finger him.
Thoma takes care of him so well, thrusting two of his fingers deep inside of Ayato. He crooks them, rubbing at his holes, going deeper until he finds that same spot he’s learned years ago. Like this, Thoma can mouth at the slope of Ayato’s neck, hips driving forward to thrust his erection between the tight skin of Ayato’s thighs, all while building him up to his next release. The overstimulation has Ayato seeing stars.
The lewd, wet sounds fill the air as Thoma rocks his hips back and forth, sliding his hard cock between Ayato’s pale thighs. The head of his cock drags against the sheets, and each and every time Thoma’s breath hitches. Somehow, he’s managed to match his erratic thrusting with the incessant rubbing of Ayato’s sweet spot, and it’s not a surprise that Ayato is coming a second time already.
“Thoma, that’s…” Ayato is dizzy from it as Thoma gathers him in his arms and turns him around to face him.
Thoma’s eyes shine beautifully in the candlelight and they’re so green and everything to Ayato that for a second, the heated haze is gone. Ayato watches him, speechless, as Thoma brings a hand up to lick Ayato’s cum off his hand.
Ayato has never felt so raw.
“Fuck me,” Ayato orders, voice rough and edged with desperation as he tries to mount his partner. He’s met with another husky chuckle as Thoma’s hands land on Ayato’s hips and still him.
“Do you want me to knot you, my lord?” Thoma asks, lips playfully quirking up into a smile as he palms down at Ayato’s cock that is already beginning to harden once more.
“You know this won’t end until you do,” whispers Ayato, his own hips moving with a mind of their own into Thoma’s sticky and wet palm. More slick begins to leak from him, dirtying their shared sheets as he grinds relentlessly into the fleshy palm.
“Who says I want this to end so soon?” Thoma asks, leaning in for a searing kiss. It’s tongues and teeth and Ayato thinks he may be bleeding at the corner of his bottom lip but he can’t care because Thoma is pushing him harder down into the sheets and rutting against him.
The tip of Thoma’s cock teases at Ayato’s slick hole and he lifts and spreads his legs. Even then, Thoma doesn’t enter him, merely dragging the wet head against the puckered hole, sending Ayato into a frenzy. Ayato’s hands claw at Thoma’s back and he tries to focus on breathing but it’s so hard when he needs that knot inside of him, needs to be scented and claimed and treated so damn roughly —

Thoma thrusts into him finally, and Ayato screams when he comes.
Thoma doesn’t stop, of course. Not yet. He begins to wildly thrust into his partner, his cock achingly hard and stretching Ayato out with each thrust. Ayato manages to hook his legs behind Thoma’s back and urge him in deeper, desperate for that final release that will free Ayato from his heat.
Ayato isn’t sure if they fuck like animals for minutes or hours. Thoma’s body keeps pressing him harder, folding him until there’s nothing separating them and they fit so perfectly like the clouds in the sky.
When Thoma comes, his cock engorging and filling Ayato with the cum and pressure he desperately craves, all goes quiet.
Ayato can think again, and isn’t it funny that the only thing that pierces his dizzy state is:
I love you.
(That, and he didn’t need anyone to know how desperate he became at the mere thought of his mate’s knot. … Well, anyone besides Thoma.)
So, needless to say, sitting with his legs neatly folded under him, gaze trained to a mountain of paperwork, now was not the time for his body to utterly betray him.
It starts with a prick of heat at the base of his neck. The fuzziness of his eyes follows, which he discounts as fatigue from dry paperwork and mindless business ramblings happening across the table from it. The curl of his stomach he can even blame on the strange hotpot the night before (and Thoma had warned him not to do it the night before an exceptionally important meeting with a businessman from Liyue, but Ayato had leaned close, curled a finger under his chin, and told him simply, You’ll take care of me, won’t you, Thoma?).
What he can’t ignore is the hypersensitivity that begins the second Thoma steps into the room. The blonde is carrying a tray of tea and has the faintest sheen of sweat; he’s likely finished training for the day, out in the hot summer sun, and the mental image has Ayato’s throat dry and hands clutching the paper until his knuckles turn white.
There’s an errant piece of hair that’s come free from the fastening in Thoma’s hair. It curls down at his nape, cute and mostly out of sight, but Ayato knows how Thoma’s hair gets when it’s wet. He knows how all of Thoma gets when he’s wet.
Ayato brings a hand up to clasp the back of his neck. There, he finds a few beads of sweat and he mentally curses himself for acting like a dog in heat. In a way, that’s what he is, as he much as he rallies against the way nature overpowers him each and every time. He’s lost count of the ways he’s shamed himself by begging on all fours for Thoma’s cock in any way he can have it — down his throat, thrusting between his thighs, buried deep inside him, coming on his face.
Ayato sits up straighter when he hears the businessman clear his throat. A porcelain smile creeps up on Ayato’s face as he reaches for the tea that Thoma places at his side.
This close, he can smell the burn of timber, the freshness of grass, the rays of sun. It mixes together in an intoxicating way that sends him back to teenage years spent out watching sunsets and learning each other’s bodies before they even knew what it truly meant to be in love.
Thoma’s scent calms him to the core. But when he’s overheated like this, teetering on the edge —
Ayato’s mind comes to an abrupt halt. Teetering on the edge? Oh, stars, he isn’t going into heat, is he?
The mortifying realization hits him with the weight of a million Mora. Ayato nearly knocks the tea off the table as he jerks. Thoma, who has just set the tea down for their guest, gives him a curious look, concern flickering in the corners of his eyes.
“Is there any chance to postpone the remainder of this meeting?” Ayato asks, voice deceptively level as he feels his cock begin to twitch and a certain wetness beginning to drip from his body. “I would like the night to mull over the details before formally committing.”
The businessman chuckles, unfazed. “This isn’t your way of trying to get yourself out of this deal, is it?”
“Not at all.” Ayato’s smile is pleasant even as he restlessly toys with the fabric high on his neck, feeling constricted and suffocated.
At this point, Thoma seems to have caught on to his lord’s ailment. Thoma’s eyes widen and he begins rearranging paperwork and tidying up the table, making smalltalk with their guest about how he can arrange for a room in the Estate if he would prefer not to travel this late at night. While Thoma handles the dirty details, as he always does, Ayato stares at a spot across the room.
He feels exceedingly empty. Even more, he feels so far away from Thoma. If he could just reach out and take that jacket of his, and perhaps those dog tags and his boots, and settle in his futon and wait, maybe he could stroke himself off while Thoma took care of formalities.
The slick between his thighs worsens.
At this point, Ayato is flushed and restlessly grinding his teeth together. He hears bits of the conversation, fluttering into his clouded mind, and he comments airily, “Oh? I hadn’t heard that custom before. You’ll have to tell us more about it tomorrow.”
How many ways can he politely dismiss someone?
Ayato is burning up. He rises from the floor, acutely aware of where he needs to place his hands to hide the prominent bulge in his pants and potential stain in the back of them. His jacket does a decent job of draping in all the right ways, but he worries that, even as a mated omega, his scent will waft over to the businessman if he’s an alpha and — and that would be troublesome.
(A sick part of Ayato wants it, though, to see Thoma dip into that primal nature of his and guard and protect. Ayato is not a fan of jealousy, not often, but Thoma’s fiery devotion to him and claiming him has always been an easy way to get Ayato hard.)
“Don’t worry, my lord. I’ll meet up with you to finish discussing the details,” Thoma tells him, tossing him a saccharine smile that makes Ayato almost feel guilty.
He excuses himself shortly after, heading to his private quarters.
* * * *
“Thoma,” Ayato grunts, his face pushed hard into the pillows, hair splayed in every reach way, drenched in sweat.
His heat has hit him in full force, now that they are alone and tangled in the sheets of his futon. The second Thoma had leaned in to kiss him, Ayato had felt himself come apart bit by bit, almost orgasming from the smooth heat against his mouth alone.
By the time Thoma undresses him, Ayato is already soaked, the insides of his thighs covered in a thick layer of slick. Ayato’s eyes are blown wide with lust, too, and he keeps murmuring little nonsensical things to Thoma as he all but tears his retainer’s clothes off.
But the second Thoma has them down to nothing, Ayato pushed into the futon and Thoma on top of him, Ayato thinks he can breathe. Just once, just twice, enough to regain his balance in the world as his thighs quake and his body throbs with how empty he is.
“How would you like it, my lord?” Thoma whispers, stamping the words against Ayato’s jaw as his masterful hands curl around the base of Ayato’s cock.
The touch alone has Ayato coming for the first time that evening. Even so, the hot release only reduces the tension in his body minimally, and Ayato feels more sexually frustrated than he had been sitting over paperwork.
Thoma chuckles against his ear and then plants a kiss to his lord’s shoulder. “I haven’t seen you go into heat like this before. Usually it’s a week from now…” he mumbles, kissing over marks that he renews with his teeth.
“How troubling,” Ayato teases, though his voice cracks as Thoma begins to finger him.
Thoma takes care of him so well, thrusting two of his fingers deep inside of Ayato. He crooks them, rubbing at his holes, going deeper until he finds that same spot he’s learned years ago. Like this, Thoma can mouth at the slope of Ayato’s neck, hips driving forward to thrust his erection between the tight skin of Ayato’s thighs, all while building him up to his next release. The overstimulation has Ayato seeing stars.
The lewd, wet sounds fill the air as Thoma rocks his hips back and forth, sliding his hard cock between Ayato’s pale thighs. The head of his cock drags against the sheets, and each and every time Thoma’s breath hitches. Somehow, he’s managed to match his erratic thrusting with the incessant rubbing of Ayato’s sweet spot, and it’s not a surprise that Ayato is coming a second time already.
“Thoma, that’s…” Ayato is dizzy from it as Thoma gathers him in his arms and turns him around to face him.
Thoma’s eyes shine beautifully in the candlelight and they’re so green and everything to Ayato that for a second, the heated haze is gone. Ayato watches him, speechless, as Thoma brings a hand up to lick Ayato’s cum off his hand.
Ayato has never felt so raw.
“Fuck me,” Ayato orders, voice rough and edged with desperation as he tries to mount his partner. He’s met with another husky chuckle as Thoma’s hands land on Ayato’s hips and still him.
“Do you want me to knot you, my lord?” Thoma asks, lips playfully quirking up into a smile as he palms down at Ayato’s cock that is already beginning to harden once more.
“You know this won’t end until you do,” whispers Ayato, his own hips moving with a mind of their own into Thoma’s sticky and wet palm. More slick begins to leak from him, dirtying their shared sheets as he grinds relentlessly into the fleshy palm.
“Who says I want this to end so soon?” Thoma asks, leaning in for a searing kiss. It’s tongues and teeth and Ayato thinks he may be bleeding at the corner of his bottom lip but he can’t care because Thoma is pushing him harder down into the sheets and rutting against him.
The tip of Thoma’s cock teases at Ayato’s slick hole and he lifts and spreads his legs. Even then, Thoma doesn’t enter him, merely dragging the wet head against the puckered hole, sending Ayato into a frenzy. Ayato’s hands claw at Thoma’s back and he tries to focus on breathing but it’s so hard when he needs that knot inside of him, needs to be scented and claimed and treated so damn roughly —

Thoma thrusts into him finally, and Ayato screams when he comes.
Thoma doesn’t stop, of course. Not yet. He begins to wildly thrust into his partner, his cock achingly hard and stretching Ayato out with each thrust. Ayato manages to hook his legs behind Thoma’s back and urge him in deeper, desperate for that final release that will free Ayato from his heat.
Ayato isn’t sure if they fuck like animals for minutes or hours. Thoma’s body keeps pressing him harder, folding him until there’s nothing separating them and they fit so perfectly like the clouds in the sky.
When Thoma comes, his cock engorging and filling Ayato with the cum and pressure he desperately craves, all goes quiet.
Ayato can think again, and isn’t it funny that the only thing that pierces his dizzy state is:
I love you.