Chapter Text
Don’t mind me, just getting the house ready for Thoma to Come Home without using up all the primogems I was saving for Albedo~
There had been a lot of complicated letters and contracts passed back and forth during the negotiations. But speed and efficiency were just two of Childe’s many strengths, so he’d boiled the situation down to the following:
- The head of the Kamisato clan had something the Tsaritsa wanted.
- The head of the Kamisato clan was some kind of stupid-in-love with his housekeeper but they were not able---were not allowed? Childe was fuzzy on the details---to be intimate.
- In exchange for the thing the Tsaritsa wanted, the head of the Kamisato clan wanted Childe to pleasure his housekeeper as a proxy, a fun and normal thing they apparently did in their relationship to keep the magic going.
The Tsaritsa had been bemused. But it was an unusually bloodless way of getting what she wanted, which Childe could tell pleased her, and he was pleased when she was pleased.
So here he was, in this Inazuman teashop, sitting across from the man he’d been assigned to fuck.
Childe could see the appeal. He and Thoma were roughly the same height, the same build, and the same boyish kind of handsome—give or take a haircut and Thoma’s general lack of badass aura. From the sound of fabric sweeping softly against the wall in the back, Childe guessed the head of the Kamisato clan was watching them from behind a screen. One letter had ended with a flourish about Childe’s presence ‘pleasing them both’. Voyeurism fit the bill.
But there had also been warnings that Childe was not to lay eyes on the Kamisato clan leader. So Childe had resisted the urge to inspect the wall on his way in.
It all seemed pretty convoluted to him, but Childe’s intimate encounters were mostly blowjobs behind restaurants between bouts of full-scale slaughter. He was self-aware enough to know that he really wasn’t in a position to judge.
None of it had to make sense anyway. It was diplomacy. A bunch of silly rules with very few real-world consequences to make everybody feel better.
Meanwhile, the housekeeper was literally beaming at him. Childe tried to smile back at him over his cup of tea and felt charmless. Thoma was like a golden retriever crossed with two more golden retrievers raised on the brightest puppy farm of the rolling hills of Windrise. Fit enough and full of energy, but lacking in bite.
Maybe Childe would be able to just bend him over the table and get it over with.
Before Thoma could waste more time with an inquiry about his journey or the weather or whatever it was normal people chatted about, Childe jumped in with, “We should talk about your hard limits.”
Thoma laughed. “My hard limits?”
Childe kept his face neutral. The housekeeper seemed unsurprised---or uncomprehending? If this kind of arrangement really was his norm, he was probably a very settled pillow prince accustomed to light fondling.
Childe didn’t do light fondling. Childe really didn’t do light anything. He wondered if the housekeeper had any idea who he was having tea with.
“Good sex is like a battle,” Childe began.
This only made Thoma laugh harder. “Sex isn’t something you win!”
“You need clearly defined rules of engagement in order to make a worthy exchange,” Childe continued patiently, as if the housekeeper hadn’t had the audacity to fucking laugh. “Tell me your rules.”
“Ah,” said Thoma, setting down his tea. The infuriating smile hadn’t wavered. “You want a level playing field? That’s okay. I suppose I could draw up a map of my most sensitive spots. Would you like that?”
(Childe thought, I suppose I could sink a dagger into your liver in two seconds. Would you like that?)
Out loud, he said, “I just want to make sure I’m making you and your partner happy. I’m here to be of service.”
The housekeeper was beaming good nature and world peace at him again. “Hey, don’t stress about it! I think you’re going to do just fine.”
Childe thought there was a very real chance Thoma was going to leave this encounter fucked silly and slightly traumatized.
He had genuinely tried. No one could say he hadn’t tried. The guy probably had no clue how much Childe was trying to help him, so why bother?
So he went ahead and reached across the table to get a firm hold on Thoma’s lapel.
The housekeeper’s smile shrank. Barely.
“I’ll tell you what,” Childe purred at him. “I haven’t had any complaints, but I don’t want to overwhelm you. Pick a safe word, and I’ll honor it. And then let’s just...see if you like what I do.”
Thoma opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly froze, looking horrified.
Childe was gratified to see Thoma finally looking alarmed. He was less thrilled when he realized the housekeeper wasn’t even looking at him. Childe followed his gaze and spotted the toe of one small, blue shoe just as it appeared at the doorframe.
It only took a simple maneuver to sweep Thoma behind the table and slam them both down on the ground out of sight.
Childe had to marvel slightly as he adjusted his arm, which he’d used to cushion the housekeeper’s head from their fall. The two of them really were astonishingly similar in height and build. But this close together, he could feel the ways Thoma’s muscles tensed and the ways they didn’t. The guy seemed to have defensive instincts only: block, shield, run. Fine for a house pet, a good guard dog. But no rebound, no attack.
As he’d thought. Pillow prince.
Conversation had struck up in the background: the Kamisato siblings talking to each other. Ayaka was looking for Thoma. The head of the clan sounded fairly unruffled---and baritone, Childe noted, not particularly resonant so probably of a slighter build, easier to knock off-balance in a close fight---but was firmly telling her to go away.
Speaking of voices---Childe had clamped one hand over Thoma’s mouth and nose. Now that he had a chance to assess the situation properly he remembered that he was trying to make Thoma be quiet, not dead, so moved his hand to just cover Thoma’s mouth.
The housekeeper’s eyes were wide as coins, straining to spot Ayaka. His panic and fear were obvious, and Childe felt a very real pang of sympathy. He shifted himself slightly to block the other’s view, and shook his head meaningfully.
It’s okay, he mouthed. I’ve got you.
Childe released Thoma’s mouth so he could move his hand down to his chest, pushing down on his sternum. The pressure would help soothe away any remaining adrenaline that might make the housekeeper do something stupid.
He considered, very briefly, moving his hand down further still to distract Thoma in other ways—but no, the idea made his own cock want to shrivel up. Anything like that with younger siblings in the room...even Childe knew there were limits.
Childe was so busy congratulating himself for his own tasteful discretion that he didn’t notice the conversation fade, or Thoma’s gaze move, or anything really until a hand descended and grasped him by the hair.
He was a mess of instincts. It was obvious to throw his attacker over his shoulder—but they were in the teahouse and he wasn’t supposed to engage in combat. So it made sense to twist and get away, get space and his bearings back under control—but his attacker was likely the head of the Kamisato clan, whom he was not supposed to see. A false step would put Thoma underfoot and in harm’s way, which would probably piss off the clan head even more, ruin negotiations, and disappoint the Tsaritsa.
Childe ended up on his knees, grasping at the fingers twisting in his hair, with his eyes squeezed shut to make sure he didn’t see anything he wasn’t supposed to.
“Ayato, stop that,” He heard Thoma say.
It took a moment for Childe to understand the housekeeper was addressing the clan leader without any titles or formalities at all—which made sense, they were lovers, or people in love who couldn’t touch each other because of complicated reasons, but still---and was in fact scolding him like a naughty child.
Registering all that information distracted Childe from whatever the clan leader---Ayato---responded with, but Thoma continued, his voice getting closer, “Don’t be ridiculous. He even protected my head, he was wonderful about it.”
Blinking his eyes open, Childe found Thoma very close to him indeed. Childe was almost grateful the clan leader was still holding him. If not for Ayato’s grip, he might have slugged the housekeeper right across the jaw in surprise.
“He was perfect. He acted so quickly, did you see?” Thoma smiled up at wherever Ayato’s face was before returning his gaze to Childe and saying very sweetly:
“Good boy.”
Childe opened his mouth to respond. Couldn’t. Gaped like a fish instead. Good boy?
Thoma was looking up at Ayato again as he argued with him. Childe stopped himself just in time from looking up too. He didn’t know where to look. At the floor? At Thoma? Who had just called him a good boy?
Childe felt heat crawling up his neck and face.
Only parts of the conversation happening over his head broke through the deafening roar of blood rushing past his eardrums. Ayato was calling him something like ‘uncontrolled’. Thoma was arguing it would be more correct to call him ‘eager to please’.
No one else seemed to have noticed the other thing Thoma had called him. Maybe he had misheard. Maybe Thoma had actually punched him in the stomach. Childe certainly felt like he had been punched in the stomach. He was finding it harder and harder to breathe.
In fact, yes, there it was, there was Thoma’s hand brushing into the gap of his shirt, across his stomach. This was, of course, a physical attack. Childe opened his mouth to yell---
--and felt Thoma’s mouth close over his own.
It wasn’t even a forceful kiss. It was extremely soft and had no teeth involved whatsoever, a bizarre specimen in Childe’s lived experience of kissing. When Childe pushed back into the kiss a little too hard—not even on purpose, just by force of habit—Thoma’s other hand came up to cup his cheek and tenderly hold him back. The housekeeper’s mouth traveled to press against his ear and murmur again, “Good boy.”
Childe was revolted to find himself trembling. The hand on his face stroked him lovingly. The hand on his stomach rubbed small, soothing circles into him.
The hand still twisting in his hair was less kind and more welcome for it. “I am not satisfied.”
Childe felt Thoma chuckle against his ear. “Well, at least give me a chance to thank him properly, and then we can get to work satisfying you, too.”
Then Thoma gently---so gently it made Childe want to rip free and throttle him---closed his mouth over the soft spot under Childe’s ear and sucked.
The noise that wrangled its way out of Childe’s throat was absurd. His face felt like lit coal.
Thoma’s hand was still on his cheek, not so much holding him in place as delicately indicating, suggesting even, the position in which he would prefer Childe to remain. The kisses trailing down his neck were slow and thorough, Thoma’s lips massaging every inch of skin he found until he hit the starched collar of Childe’s shirt.
Childe couldn’t think. Or rather, he could think and it was too much.
He could sweep the Kamisato leader’s feet out from under him, roll away from Thoma’s mouth. Would they forgive that as self-defense? Probably not. Shoving Thoma and his soft, warm tongue that was digging under his shirt collar to dip into the hollow of his throat away with one knee would constitute as hurting him, there was no way Ayato would have it. And technically this was Thoma ‘thanking’ Childe, so it was like a gift, you couldn’t reject gifts, it was rude to reject gifts, the Tsaritsa would be disappointed---
This was why Childe hated diplomacy. It was a clusterfuck of options he couldn’t take crammed into seconds that crawled by at a glacial pace.
Merciful distraction came in the form of Ayato voicing his disapproval from above.
“Let us be sure that you understand your duties,” Ayato was saying sternly. “You are here at my pleasure, and at Thoma’s. We come first.”
“Literally, got it,” Childe panted as Thoma lipped at his Adam’s apple. This earned him another twist from Ayato, the perfect antidote to Thoma’s feather-light nibbling. Did he have teeth? Maybe Thoma didn’t have teeth. Childe tried frantically to remember their conversation over tea. He was sure he remembered Thoma bearing a full grin. So where the hell were his teeth?
“Thoma insists on rewarding you,” Ayato continued. “You will show him your gratitude accordingly.”
It was very hard for Childe not to glare up at the clan leader in disbelief. This was not a reward.
“Your actions were swift,” Childe could hear the smirk creeping into Ayato’s voice as Thoma finally abandoned Childe’s throat and worked his way down to the next available stretch of flesh at his belly. “My sister knows of the...relationship between Thoma and I, but not the details. We appreciate your discretion.”
“Sure,” Childe gasped as Thoma poked his tongue into his navel. “Siblings. I’ve got some. No worries---” Another twist of the hair, so Childe added for good measure, “---sir.”
A rustling of fabric from above, and then the god descended. Childe’s hair was finally released, but just as quickly his arms were seized and dragged behind his back. Childe nearly moaned in relief. At least with his arms restrained he didn’t have to worry about accidentally chopping someone’s windpipe in self-defense. While this miracle occurred, Thoma made quick work of Childe’s trousers, dropping them to bunch around his knees.
Ayato pulled Childe back further to rest against his chest, and chuckled. “I like that. Call me that from now on.”
This was familiar territory, at least. Childe was pathetically grateful. “Yes, sir.”
And then the worst thing—just as Thoma’s mouth enveloped Childe’s cock all the way to the root, Ayato, unseen, pressed his lips against Childe’s ear and murmured, “Good boy.”
Childe wailed so loudly he was sure Kamisato Ayaka would burst through the door looking for a murder victim.
Ayato’s grip was firm. He wouldn’t let Childe thrust, or squirm, or do anything to speed the process along. Eventually Childe had no choice but to sag helplessly against the clan leader while Thoma worked his cock with lips and tongue and absolutely no teeth, the bastard.
After that first, completely unhesitant deep-throat maneuver he withdrew to lick Childe’s cock in long, slow strokes. For a while he traced the vein with his tongue, then dove deeper to suckle at his scrotum. All of it gentle, all of it precise. Childe keened when he felt Thoma’s tongue scrub his perineum. Thoma’s response was to stroke his thighs with his hands, as if that was supposed to soothe Childe while he took both balls into his mouth and sucked.
None of it was enough to make him cum. He was being fellated by a fucking sunbeam.
Was there an out? Childe’s mind flicked weakly through strategies. Could he fake a dry orgasm? Possibly he could pretend to faint. If he could just get the slightest bit of purchase on his knees he could thrust quickly into Thoma’s undeniably hot, soft mouth and be done. But Ayato was holding him off-balance and showed no signs at all of tiring. Childe was exhausted from resisting the urge to do violence, from rejecting his own instincts, from diplomacy---
“It’s okay,” Ayato murmured in his ear. “I’ve got you.”
All Childe could muster in response was a weak sob of need.
And what about Thoma? How long had he been working him? Wasn’t his mouth getting sore yet? Or his tongue? His gaze flicked up when Childe moaned, was he...
...smiling?
Surely it was Childe’s own mind, his own twist of perception, that added that malevolent little glint to Thoma’s eyes.
And then Thoma took Childe’s whole length into his throat again, this time with purpose.
Childe thought he might crack a tooth from clenching his jaw. He sucked air in and out through his teeth as if he were having a bone reset rather than his cock forcibly sucked. He couldn’t escape. Ayato wouldn’t budge. The part of his mind that was still considering the big picture warned him that a sudden move might bruise Thoma’s hot, tight throat and ruin the whole exchange, make everything up until this point futile.
That part of him was also trying to parse out if that look in Thoma’s eye had been real, if he’d had the measure of the situation from the moment Childe had tried to get a rise out of him with stupid, pushy questions. Was it better or worse if the smiley housekeeper bit was an act?
Childe came with a scream.
Before Childe’s cock was even finished twitching, Thoma rose to kiss him. A quick, decisive nip parted Childe’s lips, and then Thoma pushed the tongueful of cum he had collected into the harbinger’s pliant mouth. Childe’s attempts to pull back only pushed him harder into Ayato’s chest.
At last Thoma pulled away, looking satisfied. Childe felt wetness leaking from the corners of his mouth. The only thing holding him upright at this point was Ayato’s arm around his chest, pressing firmly at his sternum. Adrenaline, Childe thought weakly. Stupid moves.
“Swallow,” Thoma ordered.
Childe did.
Thoma grinned. He had, Childe noticed wearily, a full mouth of perfectly healthy, sharp teeth.
“Good boy.”
Childe remembered the housekeeper saying sex wasn’t something you could win. What a liar.
Thoma’s gaze flicked over Childe’s shoulder, at Ayato. “And so obedient! He hasn’t even tried to sneak a look at you, Ayato. You can’t honestly say you’re not pleased.”
His hand was back on Childe’s stomach, petting him lightly as he continued singing Childe’s praises to his partner.
Childe imagined a puppy having its belly rubbed as a reward for good behavior and shuddered.
Later, when they went to bed for the night, Thoma would laugh incredulously at Childe’s questions.
“Of course I can be intimate with Ayato. He’s the clan leader, he can do whatever he wants. Why would that be a problem?”
Childe wracked his brains. There had been reasons. Of course there had been reasons. He hadn’t made up that idea out of nothing, he’d drawn that conclusion from reasons. Right?
“Our schedules are tricky,” Thoma said thoughtfully. “I’m usually running all over town, and he has back-to-back meetings. Working with a proxy...well, it’s like sending each other notes.”
Not star-crossed lovers? Not political intrigue?
That set Thoma off again. Childe squirmed.
“I’m sorry! I know you don’t like being laughed at, but you are funny. You’re very dramatic. Is that a Snezhnayan thing? Oh, don’t be offended!”
Again, the hand on his belly. At least Thoma’s fingers were consistently warm.
“Some people around here say I have bad manners because I’m from Mondstadt originally,” Thoma offered by way of apology. “It’s all nonsense anyway. I like the way you think, it’s very entertaining.”
There was absolutely no malice in Thoma’s smile—though Childe wasn’t quite hunting for it the way he had earlier that day. He knew it was there somewhere in the housekeeper, and he had ideas about how to draw it out. But those theories could be tested later.
Meanwhile, Thoma chatted at him as if they were old friends. Maybe everyone who passed Thoma and Ayato’s initiation enjoyed this easy familiarity, Childe thought as Thoma’s thumb circled his navel.
He was really too tired to think about it much more, or argue. The first part of his initiation had been bad enough. Everything that had followed had wrecked him utterly.
To see Ayato and Thoma wreck Childe utterly, come back in a few days for Ch.2