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Autumn was always Ajax’s favorite season.
He loved the fluttering of the wind past his ears, the crunch of orange-brown leaves on the roads. The way small children would soon be dressing up in fun costumes and asking for candy. The air was always crisper, fresher in the fall; even more so in Liyue, specifically.
Being from all the way up in Snezhnaya, one would naturally assume his favorite season would be when the snow covered the ground, when families huddled together and laughed for hours while drinking hot chocolate. Or maybe the summers he never got— the warm caress of sun on skin, like a reaffirming pat on the shoulder.
But he always favored the in-between.
It was something about how the breeze would personally brush through someones long, braided hair, make scarves and capes almost float, place a foot in the path of his.
Wait, what?
The ginger man fell to the ground, only able to break the fall with his bare hands. Palms met concrete with a scratch that made his skin crawl, but scratched an itch in the back of his head. With a groan, he picked himself up before dusting his (rather overdressed) outfit off. Sure, it wouldn’t be that much of a hassle to replace, it’s just that he thought the shade of gray had suited him very well. Duller shades always brought more attention the eyes. Or at least, he thinks. He never put too much thought into his fashion. He’d hate to lose such a nice pair of pants due to a fall. Or rather, a trip.
A short, young man giggled directly in front of him.
To some, he was the Traveller. A boy constantly on the hunt to do good, to help others any way he could. To some, he was Aether. The man who had gone from one nation to another, fixing whatever issues and woes they had with what’s probably the dullest blade Ajax had ever seen. But to him, who had seen how mean the man could be, he was affectionately referred to as
“Comrade! It’s so good to see you here today! What’s up? As much as I would love to fight you right now, I’m a little busier than usual today.”
The blond shook his head, the long braid on the back of his scalp following suit. It was almost unnerving, it just being the two of them. Ajax was always so used to there being someone else, whether that be his flying baby thing, or Zhongli, or just anyone.
“I was just wondering, are you busy tomorrow eventide?”
The ginger tilted his head to the side.
“Huh? What for? You never plan our fights in advance. Is this something special?”
“I’m heading out to Sumeru for the evening. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me and meet one of my… friends. I think you two would get on well.”
Ajax responded with a laugh. “Comrade, it would most definitely take us more than an evening to reach Sumeru. With all of your time traveling, I thought you would have realized that!”
The blond simply hummed. “I have my ways. Are you coming or not?”
And that’s how he currently sat directly across from one of the prettiest men he had ever seen.
It was really something, transport with the blond. Note to self, Ajax told himself, never use a teleport waypoint ever again. No matter what that twink says. They make me nauseous. Aether had shown him towards a tavern, supposedly owned by a man named Lambad. When asked, he simply said he had to help a “certain architect” with his “marital issues”.
He had to give this guy credit, he knew how to decorate. It was practically dripping in the same gorgeous green that adorns the Dendro Archon herself, complimented by a nice, warm brown.
Ajax surveyed the crowd, skimming over faces and attire. The traveller had a way of attracting the most eccentric people he could find, so it’s usually easy to pick them out of a crowd. It’s always something. Talking snakes, lifeless eyes, the expressive ears of a hybrid, flagrant homosexuality, large teal hats…
Speaking of which, a man adorned with a rather stylized kasa hat (honestly better suited to be an umbrella) sat in the corner of the room. He was… interesting, to say the least. Deep indigo hair was cropped to around the bridge of his nose, the scowl on his face complemented by intense red eyeliner. Midnight eyes met ocean with the crash of a wave, and the man looked at him like he was kind of anomaly. An odd mix of confusion and… not fear, but something else that straddles the line. He scoffs, moving to look down at a stack of cards in his hands.
Yup. This was the guy he was looking for.
Ajax saunters over, taking the seat across from the man, and jeez he is small. Probably shorter than Aether himself, which is saying something. He glances up at him, only acknowledging his existence with a noncommitmental hum. His skinny hands grazed across cards as they were shuffled. The two of them sat in silence.
“…So.” Ajax popped his lips. “What’s your name?”
The indigo-haired one shrugs, not looking up. “Whatever.” His voice is raspy, like the feeling of sand, or like the crackling of a record player.
“What?”
“I don’t really use a name.”
“Really?”
“No, I just lied to you. Of course, really.”
“Then… what do people call you?”
He hesitates for a moment, thinking.
“People naturally come up with things, here. I’ve heard Wanderer, I’ve heard “Hat Guy”, I’ve even heard babygirl… He’s lucky to have survived that.”
The ginger holds back the urge to follow suit. He doesn’t really feel like knowing what happened to that man. “And you prefer…?”
“I don’t prefer any of them.” The man places the cards in his hands down, moving them once or twice just to make sure they’re in a perfect pile. “Did you bring your deck?” He asks.
That’s the first question Ajax is asked, and likely the last. The ginger nods, pulling a box out of his pocket. He hasn’t played this game much, but he had a pretty decent set up. That’s all that mattered to him.
He pulled the cards out, surveying them, before… kind of just moving them around. In all truth, he had never learnt how to shuffle. His mother had tried to teach him when he was younger, but to no avail. The man across him sighs, before reaching out his hand.
“You’re really bad at this, aren’t you.” The Wanderer says, grabbing the cards out of his hand without hesitation. His lanky fingers brush up against Ajax’s calloused palm, just below the hem of his glove, sending a shiver up his spine. He laughs nervously.
“Thanks!” He plays with his scarf, trying to get the oddly intimate touch out of his mind. Why was it so nerve-wracking? He’s far from the typical touch starved teenager. Why was it so familiar?
He continues. “I’m Tartaglia, by the way. If it matters.”
The man in front of him doesn’t look up. “It doesn’t.”
Ajax finally takes a moment to take the man in front of him in. He’d be described as frail, if the ginger didn’t know any better. The most unassuming always have the most tricks up their sleeve. He’s wearing a black crop top, accented by fishnets just underneath it. It’s… different, in comparison to Aether’s. The traveler’s makes him look… cute? He guesses that’s the best way to describe it. The blond had told him at one point that he felt much more comfortable in cropped shirts, no matter how many eyes stared at him. But The Wanderer seems to be wearing it precisely to entice, to ensure all eyes are on him when he walks into the room. A walking statement piece. Ajax has to admit, it works rather well. The boy across from him looks ever so slightly calmer, engrossed in a small, mundane task like this.
After a few moments, a neat pile of cards are placed in front of him.
“Ready to play, Harbinger?”
He’s fucked, isn’t he?
As it turns out, yes, he was fucked. Very fucked. The boy was petty, aggressive, and conniving on the falsified battlefield. With each character card he slaughtered, the mischievous, sadistic grin on his face grew wider and wider. It only made Ajax wonder just what he could do on a real battlefield. What weapons does he wield? How high of a pain tolerance does he have? How long could he last?
An almost evil giggle escapes the mans throat as he eliminates Ajax’s last card. He brings a hand up to his mouth in an elegant manor, before resting his cheek on it.
“Sorry, scum. You lose.”
And oh boy.
Did those words go right to Ajax’s dick.
He leans back in the chair, trying to play it cool. Not only was he embarrassed about his defeat, but he was also turned on. Great.
“Eh, it is what it is.” He says. “I’ve always been better at Dungeons and Dragons anyways.”
The man seems intrigued by this, looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “You play?”
Ginger hair bounced as he nodded.
“Nice, nice. My ex used to play. I haven’t, though. Seems like a lot of prep work.”
“… I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say consecutively since I first met you.”
“You met me, what, an hour or two ago? You don’t have much to go off.”
“That just means I care enough to listen to every word. Would you be interested in playing? D&D, I mean. I have a pretty small group who gets together monthly.”
He shrugs again. “Maybe.” He bites on his lip, looking away with a sly smile. “I think there’s only one person in that group that I’d want exploring my dark, evil, fucked up lair or whatever, though. If you… know what I mean.” His words were stilted, awkward.
Oh.
Oh archons, Ajax was doomed.
His face began to heat, likely turning more beet red than his scarf. The man in front of him smiled just a bit wider, his eyes holding a devilish glint. His canine teeth were ever so slightly sharper than average, like he had filed them down years ago without care for the consequences. Pale, slim hands press against the table as he stands up suddenly, taking off his intricately designed hat and placing it where he had been sitting moments prior. He winks at the man, who was still sitting.
“Follow me if you want. Or don’t. I don’t really care.”
Short, indigo hair flowed with the sway of his hips as he walked away from everything he had brought with him, left off the table. Ajax watched as he entered the single person restroom, taking care to leave it unlocked.
Aether, you sly dog.
The ginger hurriedly followed after him, completely disregarding everything left at their table. He hopes to the Archons that nothing gets stolen; while he could compensate for it in cash, he has a feeling the mysterious man he was about to fuck would not be happy.
The moment he had pulled the door ajar, he was pulled in by his collar and pressed against the wood. Nimble finger reach just past him, a faint click echoes as the lock slides into place.
It’s an odd experience, being pinned down by someone extremely shorter than you. Ajax was always used to being the one in control, in situations like these. So it was odd for his shoulders, his waist to be gripped the way they were. He had walked in here, expecting to bend the man over the sink’s counter and make him his, and now he’s submitting to a man who’s probably a little less than a foot shorter than him.
Almost as soon as he blinks, the boy is on his knees, already unzipping Ajax’s pants. He looks up, with something in his eyes. Something unidentifiable.
“You wanted a name to call me, right?” He says, his voice filled with anticipation. “Just tonight. Since it might be the last time I ever see you. You can call me Kuni.”
“Kuni.” Ajax repeats. The word falls off of his tongue like it was always supposed to be there, yet too important for him to keep. It’s short for something, that much he knows, but for what? He reaches down to gently caress the boy— Kuni’s hair. It’s swiftly swatted away, before being pinned to the door by his wrist.
“Be still, mutt. This is not some type of moment.”
“Oh yeah? What would you classify this as, then?”
“Me sucking a strangers dick in a bar bathroom.”
“Okay, valid.”
Kuni pulls down both his pants and boxers in one fell swoop, his dick hitting the cold air. He leans his head back, biting his lip, yet still keeping his undivided attention on the boy beneath him. The slender fingers let go of his wrist, moving to investigate the dick in front of him. It’s when his hands meet Ajax’s cock that he realizes that… they don’t feel like human skin. It feels synthetic. Like plastic, or sanded down wood. Not skin. What has he gotten himself into?
The man currently on his knees inspects the penis, more than anything. He strokes it, slowly, his hand not even able to fully close around it.
“Y… You’re allowed to say it’s big, you know.” Ajax panted, a smug grin on his face.
“Wh- Its not!” He stammered out. Despite the embarrassment coating his voice, no flush came to his cold face. Had Ajax even seen him breathe? Maybe this man was more interesting than he thought.
Almost as if to prove his point, Kuni brought the cock to his lips, licking at the tip. He looked up at Ajax and oh god, he’s trying to tease him.
And it’s working.
He brings a hand down, taking indigo strands in hand and gripping. A small noise comes out of his mouth at the contact, taking this as permission to go further and archons above it is heavenly. Kuni’s eyes water at the dick going further, further down his throat but refuses to relent.
One thing that Ajax finds interesting, through all of this, is the fact that Kuni can produce saliva. What exactly is he, not being alive but being able to produce… fluids? Would he bleed, if cut in the heat of battle?
The man slowly starts bobbing his head on the dick, keeping his eyes on the ginger above him. Red streaks fall from his eyes, but he couldn’t care less. He makes his sucks long, taking his time on each one. He waits patiently, or as patient as he can, for the man above him to crumble.
Eventually, his legs begin to shake, his grip tightens. “Kuni… F-fuck…” He groans, a lilt of a whimper rounding the corner. The man on his knees pulls off of the dick with a soft pop, a string of spit still connecting the two. He wipes his chin with the heel of his palm.
“Sorry,” He says, just a hint raspier than moments before. “I didn’t bring any lube.” He smiles, almost evilly. He is most definitely not sorry.
He stands up, not taking any time to stretch out his legs, before draping himself chest-down on the counter. In other words, he was showing his ass off like a slut. And it was working wonders.
“Cmon, Tartaglia. It’s your turn to take some initiative.” He said, moving his ass back and forth a couple times. Kuni peered at the man through the mirror he had bent himself in front of, and Archons does he look wrecked. He hurries over, almost stumbling once or twice. He grinned, grabbing at the waistband and pulling down on it.
His eyes opened wide in… not shock. Sure, he was a little surprised to be met with a wet spot on panties, but he wasn’t complaining. If anything, it was really hot. It wasn’t shock, no. It was hunger.
The ginger leaned over him, dropping the panties as fast as he could as he nuzzled his face into his neck. There were a fair number of… cracks. Cracks, where scars would normally lay. He brought his hand down to feel his folds and oh god was the boy wet. He left a gentle kiss to Kuni’s neck, just beneath the dark hair of his nape, before breaching him with his first finger.
“Good job, mutt.” He grinned. “But you’re gonna have to do a little more than that to pleasure me.”
Ajax gently bit into the… “meat” of his neck as he added another finger and sped up. God, why was he so hard right now? He was seriously getting off on being treated like a servant? A devoted cultist? Yes, yes he was. And every time an utterance of “mutt” or “scum” or any other insult left his lips he had to restrain from begging just a little bit harder.
He doesn’t even know when he added a third or fourth finger, so lost in thought, in submission. It isn’t until a hand reaches back and pulls him closer by the collar does he snap out of it.
“Good boy, Tartaglia.” Ajax whines into his neck. “You got me all nice and prepared for your cock. Don’t you wanna stick in in, hm? As a reward for being such a good boy?” His voice drips with fake pity, faux sympathy, but the ginger still nods into his neck nonetheless.
With a shaky hand, he reaches down to line his cock up with the man’s entrance and oh Archons.
The moment the tip is in, he can’t help himself. Another whine crawls out of his throat, as he slams into the smaller. The hand reaches back again, tugging on the shirt’s collar like a leash. Ajax’s hips twitch as his eyes roll back and he can’t stop fucking whimpering. Unable to stop shaking, he brings his arms up to support the smaller, one on his stomach and one on his chest.
“Mutt.” The man under him growls. The message is clear, control yourself. But he’s too far gone to heed any warnings.
He pulls out slowly, entire body quaking, before slamming back in. And from there, he’s lost it. He pounds into the other as fast as his body will let him, every sound out of his mouth incomprehensible. Tears well up in his eyes, still pressed into Kuni’s false flesh.
“M-Mutt- ngh!” Dainty, pallid fingers grip onto the edges of the sink. Sure, he could stop this at any point he wanted. He could overpower the man over him with ease. But he decides he’ll entertain him for now.
Is this what devotion is?
“Doll…!” The only coherent word he’s said.
Is devotion knowing damn well you’d drop everything you have in life; your job, your friends, the very god you worship, for someone you just met?
“Do not call me that- mmh~!”
Where do I know you from?
He grips onto him tighter, almost as if trying to keep him safe from something. Keep him sheltered from harm.
Why can’t you let me remember?
His vision goes white.
He slowly comes to, the room silent minus the sound of Kuni shifting under him. Would he be breathing just as heavy as Ajax right now, if he had the lungs to do so? From this angle, he can see everything. Cracks and scrapes all over his back. From fights? From accidents? It wasn’t his place to say. He must notice his breathing pattern change, because he knows to address him without even looking back.
“Good morning, Mutt. Have fun?”
“K-Kuni, I-“
He puts his finger to the shaking mans mouth with a hush. Silently, he maneuvers out of the larger’s grasp (perks of being small, I guess), before flipping Ajax’s back to the sink.
“Was it worth it, Tartaglia?” Kuni pulls him closer by his soft, freckled cheeks, wearing a fake pout. “Disrespecting orders just to have a bit of fun? Hm?”
He doesn’t even have room to respond before he’s being pushed up onto the counter. He sits, nervously, leaning back on his palms, as Kuni straddles his thighs.
“Go on, do it. Since you were so eager to last time.”
“Kuni-“
The indigo-haired man grabs his cock, making him wince. He was still so oversensitive, Archons above.
“Aww, but you were so excited, weren’t you? What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind!” He laughs and Ajax realizes that this man will be the death of him. Why must his god be an uncaring one?
Oh Celestia. His god? Has he gone insane? He is a loyal soldier of the Tsaritsa, he cant just throw that away because of one night.
But when he looks up and sees a man more beautiful than any alive, full of cracks and scars yet still perfect nonetheless, does it matter? Does anything matter but him? He’d lay down his life just to see him smile in his last moments.
The man above him keeps stroking his cock and it hurts but it hurts better than almost anything he’s ever felt. Kuni’s face is still wet with tears, red streaks of eyeliner complimenting his cool toned hair.
The hand stops.
His extra hand, the clean one, grabs Ajax’s face and he pulls in closer.
“You’re being such a good boy for me, Tartaglia.” He lowers himself down onto his cock.
The hushed whisper leaves his lips and
their lips
meet.
( Scaramouche was lucky he couldn’t feel the cold. Snezhnaya was already the bane of his existence, it would be even worse if he had to concern himself with mortality.
“So, Scara, what’s with that mark on the back of your neck?”
His coworker, Tartaglia, who he was forced to tent with.
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
“Mm, alright doll.”
“That is worse.”
“Then why do you always have to straighten your posture when I say it? Why do you have to readjust your hair?”
He doesn’t have an answer that doesn’t immediately mark him as guilty.
“What do you know of my habits, Eleventh? You are on thin ice.”
He laughs like the sunrise. Bright and warm and more beautiful than anything that can die should be.
And when he holds information that close you know he’ll hold onto it until the day he dies.
I can’t let him do that.
I can’t lose another. )
When Ajax comes to, he’s on the bathroom floor. How long has he been here? He sits up, rubbing his eyes. All evidence that another person was here is… gone. He took all of his clothes, cleaned up any… spillages, the like. When did he even put back on his pants? His head is fuzzy. He goes to check his pockets, in case he dropped anything, but finds a note more interesting than all of those things combined.
“Please disregard me. Continue on with life.
- The Wanderer.”
For someone who seemed to know so much about him, he acts as though he knows nothing at all.
He’ll keep searching until the day he dies.