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Aether can probably chalk this evening up to a series of bad ideas—and of poor choices, on his part, to simply go along with the aforementioned bad ideas.
The first had been agreeing to go anywhere with Kaeya.
The second had been agreeing to go to Dawn Winery with him.
The third had been allowing himself to be alone in the winery after-hours with Kaeya and Diluc and all the obvious tension between them (Diluc had said that he wouldn't kick them out only because Aether had been tagging along, but he'd proceeded to mix a drink for Kaeya without even bothering to ask what it was that the other man wanted).
The fourth had been agreeing to finally trying the dandelion wine, and inadvertently consuming more than originally intended (one glass, Aether had said—one! But Kaeya had whined and cajoled and had proclaimed that Diluc was no fun to drink with, given that the redhead's 'drink' of choice happened to be grape juice. Therefore, Aether had allowed himself to be talked into yet another bad decision, watching in confused awe as Diluc had refilled his glass at Kaeya's insistence without so much as a snide remark or thinly-veiled insult.
Aether had almost wanted to ask, then, if Diluc had more than grape juice in his glass. Maybe Aether himself had already had too much. Perhaps the truth of the matter was simply that his impromptu companions for the evening were in a good mood, and therefore, not at each other's throats.
(Not constantly, at least.)
The fifth bad idea that Aether had consented to had been to retire to a guest house on the property at Diluc's behest—yes, behest; that stern tone had left no room for argument on Aether's part, so he had agreed simply to avoid Diluc's glowering and, perhaps, his flames, which Aether absolutely does not want to be on the receiving end of.
He stands uncertainly inside the sitting room of the guest house, now, feeling drowsy and like an inconvenience; some part of him wants to go to bed, but the larger part of him doesn't want to be completely terrible company, never mind the fact that he hadn't necessarily been enthusiastic about this little excursion in the first place.
(Kaeya had been right about the wine, though—it was delightful. He'll probably do this again, during regular business hours, and he'll set his limit for the evening and hold to it; he doesn't see much of a point in getting tipsy, anyway.)
Right now, he'd prefer a bath and a bed, in that order, but he doesn't want to ask because he ridiculously feels like this would somehow make him a bad guest, so he shifts awkwardly from one foot to the other and hopes that Diluc can translate his rather ambiguous actions into the questions that Aether can't bring himself to voice.
Surprisingly perceptive, Diluc offers a small, half-smile. “There's a bathroom down that first hall, just there, to your left. Third door on your right, and there's a bedroom directly adjacent to it. Bath items are in the closet as soon as you walk into the bathroom. The linens on the bed have been freshly-laundered. Make use of whatever you need.”
“Thank you,” Aether sighs, equal parts sheepish and grateful.
“I wouldn't be much of a host, if I didn't anticipate my guests needs, would I?” Diluc asks.
It isn't a strange thing to ask, but it makes Aether feel... something. Something that he can't afford to linger on, and so he resolves to let it drop there in the space between them, and be left behind when he takes a step back, in the direction of the hallway that Diluc had pointed him to.
In his periphery, he sees Kaeya plop down onto one of the spacious couches in the room. He seems to make himself right at home, stretching leisurely and lolling his head to one side, as though he doesn't have the slightest care in the world, and right now, he probably doesn't. “Come back here when you're done with your bath,” he teases. “I can tuck you in, before retiring myself.”
Aether is used to Kaeya's jests by now, and he rolls his eyes at the words, but heat still creeps up the back of his neck, in spite of himself.
He blames it on the wine. Just the wine.
“The invitation to stay at this guest house is meant for Aether,” Diluc snaps, his voice as cold as Kaeya's ice, harsh and sharp all at once. “It doesn't extend to you.”
“Good thing I don't need an invitation, then, right, 'Luc?” The question is all but purred, and, for just an instant, Aether is grounded to the spot on which he's standing, transfixed. Kaeya's tone is a counterpoint to Diluc's—it's an almost-playful warmth that Aether just knows won't hesitate to burn higher and brighter, to engulf and consume.
Kaeya is a truly adept swordsman and fighter; Aether does not deny nor question his skills in combat.
Diluc, though—Diluc is a force to be reckoned with, barreling in and decimating any opponent he faces, whether with steel or with flames.
Here and now, though, Kaeya looks and sounds like nothing short of a predator, and Aether is certain that Kaeya knows exactly how to reel his prey in and wrap it around his fingers, doing with it whatever he sees fit (more thoughts that Aether can't afford to linger on).
Why is it, then, that it seems here that Diluc is the prey?
Aether tells himself that he's reading far, far too much into the situation, that he's seeing something that simply isn't there; that their dynamic is exactly what it's always seemed to be, as long as he's known them: Fire and ice, oil and vinegar. Spewed vitriol and taunting jibes.
(And an ache that speaks of more history than their lips probably ever will, but Aether has never commented on this.)
Diluc doesn't reply with anything more than a narrowing of his eyes, and Kaeya gazes calmly back at him, clearly unaffected.
Or, at the very least, not intimidated in the slightest.
“Well?” Kaeya prompts, and the tension in the room ratchets up a few more notches. A wildfire faces off against a blizzard and the irony of it all isn't lost on Aether. The juxtaposition is making him feel light-headed, dizzy.
(Or maybe that's just the wine talking.)
Aether beats a hasty retreat and leaves the other two to work things out amongst themselves.
It's the best idea he's had all evening.
~*~
He loses track of time in the bath, catches himself dozing, once. He decides it's probably time for bed, lest he stay here and accidentally drown himself, and so he steps out of the spacious tub and he dries himself off before tugging on pajamas that he'd packed and had brought with him (he is, after all, a traveler, and it's always best to anticipate changes in plans—such as the addition of an impromptu sleepover, for instance). He brushes his hair, which is damp at the ends, and ties it back into a loose, messy braid before emerging from the bathroom, padding back down the hallway in bare feet to do either one of two things: bid his companions good night, or survey the damage done.
There is also a third option: both of the above, at once.
He pauses when he hears what sounds very much like a moan, his whole body freezing in place, his breath catching, snagging somewhere between his throat and his lungs, expelling itself in a disbelieving huff shortly thereafter. Certainly, he'd heard... wrong. Kaeya and Diluc had been their usual selves when he'd left them alone in that room, and he'd half-expected to hear them still arguing or to hear absolutely nothing because they'd parted on bad terms, yet again.
What he hadn't expected, not now or ever, was to hear what seemed to be a sound of pleasure.
It's followed by a low chuckle, and then there's more... more moaning, louder, this time, and Aether pretends like he doesn't feel white-hot fire blaze right through him, doesn't feel it pool in his lower abdomen—scalding, molten, igneous.
This isn't his business, Aether knows. No matter what is going on in that room right now, no matter how inconceivable a scenario it might be, he has no right to eavesdrop or investigate. He's familiar with the saying, curiosity killed the cat, and he knows he'd do well to take the adage to heart. Whatever is going on in that room has nothing to do with him, and he needs to turn around right now, go to the guest room that Diluc is so graciously lending him, and go to sleep.
Like a cat with a death-wish, he doesn't turn around; he keeps moving forward, one foot in front of the other, spurred on by the pull low in his gut—this feeling that he's failing spectacularly at pretending is non-existent, especially when it's screaming at him louder than anything else.
It isn't so much a bad idea as it is an undeniable urge, and Aether thinks the wine has made him just brave and stupid enough to act on it, never mind that he has no answers for what will occur upon confrontation, when he confirms that he's either suffering from auditory hallucinations or he's correct in suspecting that something altogether wicked and utterly unbelievable (unless seen, felt, known) is happening, and has been, in his absence.
Aether comes to a grinding halt in the doorway when he realizes three things, in rapid succession: one, he hadn't heard wrong; two, the sight of a fully-nude Diluc straddling a nearly-fully-clothed Kaeya is as mind-breakingly sexy as it is wholly improbable (although Aether supposes that, being faced with irrefutable evidence that, yes, this is a thing that is indeed happening, it would make the denial of it a little far-fetched at this point); and three, he's pretty sure he's a dead cat.
He doesn't mean to gasp—he doesn't. The sound leaves his lips without his permission and his face flushes with the heat that he's already feeling everywhere else. He doesn't know how he manages to articulate, to not stumble over words as he blurts, “The two of you have this kind of relationship?!”
It's mostly a rhetorical question, given that he can see perfectly well that, yes, they do.
Provided that Aether isn't also having visual hallucinations as well. Was there something else in the wine, if that's the case? Or had he fallen victim to some incredibly talented illusionist?
(He'd heard once of spells that could show a person their deepest desires—a fantasy brought briefly to life. Aether thinks of this and his throat goes dry.)
“Oh, he's found us out, 'Luc.” Kaeya's hands are on Diluc's hips. Diluc is squirming on his lap, and Aether has a feeling that those hands are keeping Diluc from doing anything more than that, right now. Kaeya doesn't sound surprised, doesn't sound embarrassed or upset.
It's not out of character for him, really. Aether's always known him as a man who tends to roll with the punches. Why should this be any different?
“You don't say.” Diluc doesn't seem startled, either, but he does seem much less bold than Kaeya (who seems thoroughly incapable of experiencing anything remotely resembling shame), not turning to look at their guest, as though he can't quite bring himself to face Aether's expression right now.
Kaeya smirks and leans in, pressing his lips to the juncture where Diluc's neck meets his shoulder. He must do something more than just innocently kiss there, because Diluc hisses softly, and when Kaeya draws back, Aether notes the imprint of teeth – dark pink – on Diluc's skin. The action hadn't seemed to hurt the redhead at all, although it seems as though it should've been painful, to Aether.
Then again, perhaps that's something that Diluc likes—a little pain.
Very detailed and very inappropriate thoughts tickle at the forefront of his mind and Aether tries to shoo them away and bid them adieu, but that proves to be a difficult task given what he's presently witnessing, and it doesn't seem to matter much that this really isn't any of his business to begin with. As far as the majority of him is concerned at this moment, the fact that he's just walked in on them, uninvited, seems to be a rather inconsequential matter.
What am I doing? he asks himself, and rapidly discovers that there are no answers to be found. He has no excuses, no justifications. He stands there, trying to pick his jaw up off the floor, trying to convince himself that this has nothing to do with him and he never should have ventured back in this direction, to begin with.
Like vegetation that has taken root, he remains exactly where he is, neither moving in closer nor backing away. He feels frozen in place, in time. He idly wonders if movement will break this spell—if everything will stop should he step forward or back.
Kaeya draws his attention away from his own scattered thoughts and back to the reality of the moment with a few clicks of his tongue. “I've always thought you clever, Aether. It's almost disappointing to know that you hadn't already pieced this together for yourself.”
The teasing, scolding tone probably should not do to Aether what it most definitely is doing to him. He wonders how hard he's blushing now, wonders what kind of expression he's wearing, wonders if he looks as simultaneously adrift and fascinated as he feels.
He opens his mouth to reply and closes it again when nothing but a soft, choked sound emerges, no coherency to be found anywhere.
His ears burn like everything else does. Irrationally, some (senseless) portion of him wants to ask what he can do to make up for the pseudo-disappointment. He doesn't have to bite his tongue to keep those nonsensical words at bay, though—not when he apparently can't even manage to utter anything that passes as being at least partially comprehensible.
Kaeya sees the weak point and Aether is painfully aware of it when he does; he watches the smile as it spreads slowly on Kaeya's lips, listens as that voice drops nearly an octave lower to ask: “Did you come back to request that I tuck you in? If that's the case, I'm afraid you'll have to wait; I have my hands quite full already, as you can see.” Those (full) hands tug at Diluc's hips, like Kaeya needs to provide proof. He rolls his own hips up to meet the motion and Diluc makes a sound that Aether feels—it's a sharp spark that dances along his vertebrae and makes him tremble, just slightly, where he stands.
Kaeya is a tease; Aether has always known this, but to see it in this context, in this capacity, and to know that Diluc is somehow weak to it as well....
He does not know how he should feel about this, but he's pretty certain that how he currently feels about it is probably very, very wrong.
Then again, isn't everything here wrong? Topsy-turvy and off-kilter, illogical and raw and voyeuristic.
“You--” Diluc starts, then stops, whatever insult he was prepared to issue (Aether just knows it would've been an affront of some kind) dying in his throat and morphing into a muffled moan as Kaeya draws him down into a kiss.
Aether can't see it that well from where he's standing, but given how Diluc shivers during it and then falls perfectly silent, as though dazed, after it—well. He doesn't need to see everything to know the effect that it has. It's like feeling the aftershocks from a strong earthquake, standing just on the fringe of the epicenter.
(He also senses the danger and he lingers, as though welcoming it.
What sensible creature toys with the idea of its own destruction?
Waits for it? Secretly hopes for it?
What is he thinking?)
Kaeya breaks away from the kiss abruptly, once more looking at Aether. “You're more than welcome to have a seat over there.” He gestures to the couch across from himself and Diluc with a nod. “That's where you can wait your turn.”
There are all sorts of flashing lights and loud sirens going off in Aether's mind at the moment: warnings scrawled in messy, red, large letters. Unmistakable. Bad idea, bad idea!
The sane, rational, respectful thing to do in this case would be to exit the room, try (and fail) to sleep, never speak of this under any circumstance, and never meet those gazes ever again.
Like a man possessed by absolutely none of the aforementioned qualities, Aether steps further into the room. He gives one feeble attempt at a protest that the majority of him hopes will go unheeded, but he throws the words out there all the same, believing that perhaps at least one of the three of them still retains a modicum of logic, and will put a stop to whatever this is attempting to be: “I didn't know that Diluc's invitation to spend the night included... entertainment.”
Even to Aether's ears, it sounds less like an attempt at an escape and more like an attempt at gleaning Diluc's thoughts on the matter—what if he's not okay with Aether's presence?
At any rate, if one of them is going to be sensible here, it's going to be Diluc.
Diluc cranes his neck, crimson eyes finally meeting Aether's. “Stay,” he says, simply. “Sit.”
Relief and trepidation war within Aether as he circles the couch that Kaeya had indicated. He wants to ask if they're sure, but doesn't, because it feels like pushing his luck, it feels like if he says too much, one of them will change their mind.
(He's aware that he should probably be the one doing that, the one declining the extended offer. The one allowing more than cursory, fleeting thoughts in regards to what a disaster this can turn out to be.
Oh, but that would ruin his consistency for the evening, wouldn't it?)
Aether sits and releases a slow, shaky breath as he does so.
He had been drowsy before his bath. He had been positively listless after. He had been more than ready to retire for the night and sleep off the wine, wake up fresh in the morning with no questions for anyone, least of all for himself.
Right now, though, he's fully awake, alert in ways that he isn't even when he's in the middle of a fight, even when he's staring death in the face and not backing down. His heart is galloping in his chest, the thumpthumpthump-ing loud in his ears. He wonders if they can somehow hear it, too, wonders if they realize just how affected and terrified he is, right now.
“My invitation isn't good enough for you, Aether?” Kaeya asks, pulling a pout that is about as genuine as any fabrication that Aether has known him to spin. “You wound me.”
“You can stop with the dramatics,” Diluc grouses, and since the redhead is facing Kaeya once more, Aether can't see those eyes rolling, but he can feel them doing so even though he isn't on the receiving end of the gesture.
“What should I start with, then, 'Luc?” Kaeya fires back without so much as a pause for breath or a batted eyelash. “Shall I resume the task at hand? I might need a reminder of where I was, exactly. My memory's so bad sometimes, you know.”
“Bullshit,” Diluc replies before grabbing at one of the hands that's on his hip and placing it elsewhere (from his vantage point, Aether cannot see where, but he has a fairly decent idea of where that hand is, now). “Remember now?”
Kaeya's answering grin is practically impish. “Memory's being jogged. I think I have it from here.” He peppers kisses along the side of Diluc's neck, lingering at the place he'd bitten earlier before murmuring, “Stay straddling my lap but turn around. Let him get a good look at you. If we're going to put on a show, 'Luc, we should do it properly, don't you think?”
“I am not some prized possession that you can just put on display, you know.” The words are emitted as a fierce-sounding snarl, but the threat and the hostility in them are dampened and then buried entirely by Diluc's easy acquiescence, his body moving into position for Kaeya—and for Aether, too.
Kaeya's hands help lead him, hold him, keep him steady as he turns, the entire front of him now visible, and of course Aether's eyes don't stay put on Diluc's face; they dart down and up and back again, slower this time, raking over pale skin, lingering on the cock that juts out from his hips, at the bead of moisture that's gathered at the reddened tip of it.
Aether is very glad that his pajamas are relatively loose-fitting.
“You are, though, aren't you?” Kaeya asks Diluc, his hands sliding down Diluc's chest, his abdomen, his taut thighs that strain to keep him hovering in place on his knees at the edge of the couch.
He then presses his lips to Diluc's ear, whispering something that Aether can't catch, but whatever is said makes Diluc's eyes go wide and then those lashes flutter and his gaze is hazy and molten. It's funny and unfair, how Kaeya's words can do that—how they can twist and trap and seduce, even if he's not physically laying a finger on the person he's speaking to.
Aether knows first-hand how it feels to get tangled up in Kaeya's words. He feels something like a twinge of pity for Diluc, but given how the man looks right now, Aether supposes that he shouldn't feel too terribly sorry for him.
Diluc reacts elsewhere to Kaeya's words, too, his cock twitching and dribbling pre-cum, and Aether can't help but wonder how thoroughly Kaeya had teased him before now; he can't help but wonder what had been said and done to get Diluc worked up to this point, to where it seems like his body is begging for something, anything, some measure of mercy, and here Kaeya is, touching him everywhere except where he probably needs it most.
Kaeya's hands work their way back up at a leisurely pace, fingers skimming over skin here, granting a firmer touch there, and Aether recognizes it for the teasing that it is, even if he isn't the one facing the onslaught of it.
(No—he's the one lucky enough to have been given a front-row seat to it, to bear witness to the way that Diluc shivers beneath the tips of Kaeya's fingers, the way his head lolls back when thumbs and forefingers pinch and pull and roll his nipples. He can't help but shift where he sits, restless and yet raptly attentive. He tries to take in everything at once, from Kaeya's self-satisfied smirk and his possessive tone, to his hands on Diluc and the way they seem to call forth the fire burning beneath Diluc's skin. Aether thinks that the way Diluc ultimately melts and submits to Kaeya – in spite of whatever threats or insults that he hurls Kaeya's way – will be etched into his memory, now. He'll see them arguing later and just take it for foreplay.)
“Will you get on with it?” Diluc is probably going for annoyance here, but his voice is little more than a breathy moan when one of Kaeya's hands dips down and down, cupping his sac and squeezing.
“My apologies,” Kaeya purrs, not sounding even the slightest bit contrite. He keeps playing with one of Diluc's nipples with one hand while he slides the other up, curling his fingers around Diluc's cock and giving it a quick tug. “Is this what you need?”
“Partly,” Diluc gasps out, his whole body shuddering when Kaeya thumbs at the head, smearing and spreading the pre-cum that's there, and then there's more, and Aether wonders just how skilled Kaeya's hands must be, to elicit such a response from Diluc.
Maybe it has less to do with skill, though, and more to do with how into it – how into Kaeya – Diluc seems to be.
Maybe it's some combination of both.
“What's the other?” Kaeya asks, eye blinking owlishly, giving the appearance of an innocence that's about as far from the truth as it gets.
“You know what.” There's a needy sort of frustration building—one that is apparent, palpable, visceral, and either Diluc is making absolutely no effort to mask it at this point or he's just incapable of doing so.
Kaeya fists his cock tighter, strokes it roughly once, twice, and then stops.
Diluc whines, the sound so soft that Aether almost doesn't catch it (but this, oh, he'll remember this for forever, too), and he arches into Kaeya's touch, asking without asking for something else, something more.
Aether realizes then that it's definitely both, in regards to talent versus level of interest: Kaeya's talent and Diluc's desire to have it focused on himself.
“You know we'd have to go to the bedroom for me to fuck you properly.” Kaeya sounds genuinely disappointed to be reminding Diluc of this. “What can I give you, here and now, 'Luc?”
“Will you stop playing dumb?” Anger and pleading merge and meld and there's a desperation in Diluc's eyes that Aether has never seen before and it makes that feeling, that jumbled knot of toomuch tighten low in his belly, makes his own cock twitch. There's a dampness gathering inside his pajamas, where the head of his cock is pressing against the fabric. He selfishly wants friction but he doesn't want to take away from anything that's occurring in front of him, and so he remains as still as he can and he continues to openly gawk, certain that he must look ridiculous, but he doesn't really think the ones he's watching are focused on that, right now.
(He's not even convinced that they'd notice the world falling down around them, but then again, neither would he, as captivated as he is, by them.)
“Tell me,” Kaeya presses, his lips touching Diluc's temple in what appears to be a feather-light kiss. “Tell me what you need me to give you right now, 'Luc, and you can have it.”
“Your fingers,” Diluc grits out, “inside.”
Kaeya pushes, Aether has learned. Kaeya pushes, and Diluc apparently eventually caves. Aether wonders if this is how it has always been, between them.
Aether manages a soft whimper at the same time Kaeya inhales sharply. Diluc just hovers in place, the tips of his ears nearly as red as the hair that he has pulled into a high ponytail.
The hand on Diluc's chest moves to his lips instead, fingers lightly probing. “Open for me like a good boy,” Kaeya commands (and gods at the way good boy sends a bolt of lightning straight through Aether, even though it's not for him, it's not for him, but his body doesn't seem to give a damn), “and don't bite.”
Those lips part easily enough, with little prompting, and Aether watches as two of Kaeya's fingers brush past teeth, watches as those fingers press down on Diluc's tongue and then relent. Lips close around them, then, and Diluc's cheeks hollow as he sucks.
"He's very good with his mouth, Aether,” Kaeya says, and his tone is conversational but his expression gives his current state of being away entirely—teeth sink briefly into his bottom lip and then he chuckles once, lowly. “He possesses a very talented tongue, as he is demonstrating, right now.”
“I can imagine.” He's not aware he's said the words aloud until Kaeya's lips quirk, his smile all too knowing, and Aether wants to shy away from the look Kaeya is giving him, but he can't. He can't, because he's glued to this spot, where he's been told to sit. To watch. To wait.
And Aether can imagine, even though he shouldn't be doing so. Even though doing so is just falling head-first into another bad idea.
(He knows this and it does nothing to stop his tortuously-vivid imagination.
He sees Kaeya's hand on Diluc's length, sees Kaeya's fingers in Diluc's mouth, imagines what it would feel like, to have any and all parts of that and he throbs in the confines of his pajamas, not quite managing to suppress a moan at the images his lust-addled mind conjures up, coupled with the reality of what's happening in front of him. He feels split in two—there's so much to focus on, too much to focus on, and it's unjust, is what it is.
But. He doesn't want any of it to stop.)
Once Kaeya is apparently satisfied, he withdraws his fingers from Diluc's mouth, and then he moves them down and back. “Both at once, 'Luc, because I know you like it a little rough like this, anyway.”
“Commentary isn't necessary,” Diluc groans, and then the sound changes—it becomes higher and more keening in nature, and Diluc paints a beautiful picture like this, his eyes glazed over with pleasure and his jaw slack, his hips angling and pressing back, no doubt an involuntary reaction. Aether has never experienced this sort of thing for himself, but he's not an idiot; he knows where Kaeya's fingers are, knows it must feel good, given the way Diluc looks, right now.
“He loves having some part of me inside him.” Kaeya is very clearly ignoring Diluc's stance on his running commentary and he keeps talking, divulging all these things that Aether's never known, never dreamed of being privy to--
--Well. There have been thoughts. Tiny, wriggling ones, ever since he'd grown to know them. This, though? This feels like a fever dream. He feels torn between focusing on everything that Kaeya is telling him and focusing on the way Diluc reacts each time Kaeya shifts, each time he does something new or different. Kaeya has always been one to keep an opponent on their toes—why would Aether assume that this kind of intimacy would be any different?
“Tongue.” Kaeya licks at his lips and Aether feels his own mouth go dry as his filthy and traitorous imagination supplies him with an image of just what Kaeya might mean by that, and he wants to melt into the cushions and hide because Kaeya is looking at him like he knows and of course he fucking does because he's Kaeya, but instead of commenting on it and potentially putting Aether on the spot, Kaeya just keeps moving along on his own train of thought: “Fingers.”
The hand on Diluc's cock starts moving in earnest, Kaeya's grip appearing to be strong and sure and exactly what Diluc needs, if the sounds he's currently making are any indication.
Aether wonders if the fingers that are inside him are moving in tandem with the stroking, or if the rhythm is completely different. He wonders how it feels—if there's a pleasant pressure, or if there's more to it than that.
For the first time ever, Aether berates himself for not being a little more experimental and exploratory with his own body. He should probably remedy that at some point.
He probably will, after this.
As it stands, he has never been so turned on in all of his life, and right now, he has absolutely no idea what to do about it but continue to sit there and drink in the sight of the two men tangled together before him and hope that he doesn't make a mess of his new pajamas, all without even touching himself.
Kaeya is pressing little butterfly kisses everywhere his lips can reach while he keeps taking Diluc apart with his hands, and he keeps addressing Aether between the kisses, and the continued talk is making Aether feel like a pot that's about to boil over, especially when Kaeya says, “But my dick in him, that's his favorite thing,” so conversationally, like he's just telling Aether that it looks like it's going to rain. Aether doesn't understand how Kaeya can talk about such things so casually while doing what he's doing and not miss a beat. He seems so pleased and relaxed and in control, undaunted by the eyes on him, focused on amplifying every sensation in any way that he can, tipping the balance even more in his favor.
Kaeya is under and over and on and in Diluc, but Aether feels like he's being touched, too (phantom hands), and he inwardly curses himself for falling victim to this absolutely unfair bewitchment, never mind that he has now proven himself to be an all-too-willing participant in what feels like his own downfall.
Might as well enjoy it, right?
(And he is.)
“Nngh,” is the only response Diluc seems capable of producing at the moment, the typical snark that is reserved for Kaeya as lost as Diluc himself seems to presently be. Lost in sensation, lost in everything that Kaeya is giving and taking.
Watching them, like this, Aether can empathize.
Kaeya's hand begins jerking Diluc off in a short, fast, rough motion, and Aether can't help but wonder if the fingers inside are giving similar treatment, perhaps pressing deep and retreating just as quickly, perhaps curling, perhaps pressing, perhaps--
“Ah.” Diluc's voice is high, tight. He repeats the sound when Kaeya twists his wrist, swipes his thumb over the head of his cock again, this time with more purpose and less teasing, and the act makes Diluc give in to a full-body shudder.
Aether's breathing quickens, matches Diluc's. He wants to see--
“Do you like having Aether's pretty eyes on you, 'Luc?” The question is a low murmur, words that Aether almost doesn't catch over the sound of his own near-panting breaths. He hears them, though, and his next exhale is a fluttery, weak thing. The inhale that follows it is a sharp, pointed, stabbing thing that burns all along the way to his lungs.
Diluc's eyes, which have been shut, blink open. Crimson and gold meet and the yes that Diluc breathes in reply goes straight to Aether's cock. He makes a soft, strangled sound, his mind having no idea whatsoever as to what should be done with this information, but the rest of him wants to touch. To help. To do more.
He's been told to wait, though. He shouldn't dare get ahead of himself—or, rather, get ahead of Kaeya, who seems to be enjoying Diluc's answer, and Aether's reaction to that answer.
“Mm, good.” Kaeya rasps, and his next words pierce Aether right to his core, much like Diluc's wrecked-sounding affirmative: “I am, too.”
There's the sound of a ragged gasp and Aether isn't sure who makes it, isn't sure of anything except the way Diluc groans and goes all shivery as he suddenly comes, Kaeya continuing to stroke him through it until Diluc sags against him, sweaty and spent and breathless.
Kaeya lavishes Diluc with soft praises and light kisses; he helps the other man to rearrange and reposition, and Diluc settles beside him, catching his breath, still close, still touching. Diluc's head is pillowed on Kaeya's shoulder; Kaeya is nuzzling at his hair. Both of them are looking at Aether, however.
“You've been waiting so patiently, Aether,” Kaeya starts, and the way his voice sounds right now probably qualifies as some kind of criminal act, “just as I asked. Now, what can I do for you?”
Aether feels like all of the air has been sucked right out of the room. He'd been musing about getting ahead of Kaeya earlier, and now that Kaeya's actually posing such a question, he has no idea how he should answer. Does he even really have the right to ask for anything, here?
“I don't know,” he replies, his voice wavering, his uncertainty an obvious thing.
“Did you enjoy what you saw? Did you enjoy watching us?”
Kaeya's questions are direct and easy enough to answer, but Aether still hesitates, still tries to talk himself out of digging an even deeper hole for himself even though it's perfectly apparent just how much he did enjoy watching Kaeya pleasure Diluc like that.
“... Yes.” He finally settles on honesty, and on digging that hole deeper, and on leaping headlong into another bad idea, because, again: consistency.
“Would you prefer a more participatory role, Aether?” is the next thing that Kaeya asks, and yes, yes, Aether would, but he needs to clarify just exactly what Kaeya might mean by that.
“In what respect?” Aether's words are soft, breathy, affected.
“We can help you relieve some of that tension you're experiencing,” Kaeya offers, his gaze sliding briefly down Aether's body, to his lap, and then back up again. “You've been sitting there all alone, enjoying the show, but not even daring to touch yourself. Was that a pleasure that you were leaving to us, hmm?”
Aether bites at his bottom lip and shakes his head once, a quick, jerky back-and-forth. “I didn't assume, even though I would like....” He trails off, his eyes going wide at his own unfinished confession.
“What would you like?” Diluc gently, carefully prompts. It's the first time he's spoken, since just before his orgasm.
Kaeya offers suggestions: “For us to kiss you? To touch you? To make you come?”
Any and all, is what Aether wants to say, but those aren't the words that leave his lips. Instead, he nods and says, “I don't know what to ask for, from you. No one's ever made such an offer to me before, so I don't know what to ask for. I don't know specifics. I can let you know... what feels good... when you do it.”
Here and now, he feels small and silly and like a shit negotiator. He's a stumbling mess of a thing although he's stationary. It's not the wine but he wishes it were; he's struggling for words, the right ones, because he wants them to understand that he's having to rely on them to show him, but he doesn't want that to be a mood-killer, and maybe he's said too much.
What if he has? What if he's ruined whatever opportunity they've extended to him just now, by being far too open? Too less of something or perhaps too much?
Really, though, hasn't he been telling himself (or attempting to tell himself, at any rate) that all of this is a bad idea? Perhaps this crippling honesty of his will provide him the perfect excuse to step back, to breathe. To thank them for the wine and the company, and leave it at that.
Funny how the thought of that, of leaving things as-is between them, hurts and disappoints him far more than it has any right to. The realization is surprisingly sobering, given all that he's just witnessed.
His thoughts – anxiety-laden glaciers – bump into each other, gather and swirl in the whirlpool that is his mind.
“Do you want us, Aether? And what Kaeya is offering?”
Diluc's voice is a gentle warmth that soothes Aether and has him looking up from his lap, almost timidly, now. All the questions are simultaneously a welcome distraction and a frustrating obstacle, mostly because he doesn't know how he should answer.
Of course, he knows what sex is. Of course, he knows how to pleasure himself. It's never felt like anything special for him, though. He's never wanted, like this.
And he definitely, definitely wants. He just doesn't know what to do about it, but.
If he chooses to put himself in their hands, he has a feeling that they'll walk him through it.
So, he presents them with more of that trademark candor, and breathes, “Yes.”
Perhaps Aether is just imagining it, but he almost swears he sees a glint of something possessive in Kaeya's gaze. Here-and-gone, and then Kaeya is speaking: “Come here.”
His words are clear. Commanding. Compelling.
Aether isn't really paying any heed to the small voice that's still attempting to talk him out of all of this, anymore.
If even Diluc bends to Kaeya's whims and will... what chance, then, does Aether have to withstand that wicked smile, that heated stare, and that silver tongue?
(The answer is: none. Absolutely zero.
Which is truthfully just fine by him, at this point, because he doesn't want to, anyway.)
The challenge, now, is to get to them without tripping over his own now-clumsy feet, which proves to be far more difficult when his mind's a jumbled mess and the only thing that's remotely clear to him at present is the fact that he just wants, but in order to have, he must first walk.
He manages, somehow, barely. Everything seems to be in slow motion as he rises from his seat and approaches them. It's like he's trying to trudge through knee-deep mud, like he's having to contend with slowing water, until he's actually within their reach, and then it's worse—he's immobile, frozen, hands balled up into fists at his sides as he stares pointedly at the back of the couch, because that seems safer than looking at them. He stands there, not touching them but wanting to, not seeing them but feeling their eyes on him and thinking that perhaps he likes it, the way they're all hovering and how there's this quiet, uncertain moment before contact.
“Your clothes will need to go,” Kaeya tells him, and the words sound so hypocritical, given how much clothing he is still wearing, but Aether finds his hands to be moving of their own accord all the same, fingers unclenching, reaching shakily for buttons that he'd had no trouble at all with earlier, but then again, he hadn't been under scrutiny while alone in the bathroom, either.
Diluc's hand on one of his wrists bids him to stop and he does, immediately, his skin burning where those fingers touch him.
“Let us,” Diluc urges, and then lets Aether go. There's a searing brand left behind, circling his wrist; it cannot be seen, but Aether can feel it. He drops his hands, lets Diluc's and Kaeya's take over. Their motions are nimble, practiced, nothing at all like what Aether feels like his fumbling attempts would have been, had they left him to the task, himself.
Their hands are on his clothes, working on buttons, tugging at fabric as it becomes loose enough for removal—shirt first, pants second, the latter garment easier to deal with because it's only held in place on Aether's hips by a drawstring that's quickly untied by Kaeya. Aether shrugs out of the shirt, and then steps out of the pants as they slide readily down his legs, pooling onto the floor below.
Aether hadn't bothered with underwear, after his bath. He never wears them to bed.
He stands there, completely bare, the evening air slightly cool to his skin but it does nothing to douse the flames that are rising higher and higher still with every second that passes; he's boiling from the inside out and his body is screaming for some sort of relief, for a release that they are offering to give him.
After this, he's quite certain that nothing that he does for himself will be able to compare.
“Pretty little thing,” Kaeya murmurs, and Aether wants to shy away from those words and from that gaze—he doesn't understand why Kaeya is looking at him like he's a feast, like he's something meant to be consumed, torn apart. He doesn't think he deserves such a response, but he craves it all the same, always finds himself drawn in by those sugar-coated words of Kaeya's, holding his breath and waiting for whatever the man might say next.
Kaeya touches him with the tip of a finger; he trails it along the center of his chest and then further down, sternum to navel. It is and is not like Diluc's hand on him; this is a sharper burn, like frostbite, even though Aether can tell that Kaeya's hands are not that kind of cold. There's no elemental influence here—perhaps it's just that Aether is somewhat delusional, by now. Perhaps he's just that touch-starved, that wanton...
But only if it's them.
It's not surprising, not really. Not if he thinks about it. Thing is, he really doesn't want to think about it and so he doesn't. This whatever-the-hell-it-is is complicated enough without his mind making it even more so, and it doesn't have to be. It doesn't have to be. It can be as simple as honeyed words and slow hands and their mouths working him to a completion that will happen embarrassingly quickly at this rate, no doubt.
(But even that isn't as simple as Aether's pretending it can be, is it?)
“We're going to take very good care of you, Aether,” Kaeya continues, and Aether shivers, not due to the temperature of the room, but because of the promise in Kaeya's words. Aether knows they will.
Four hands make full contact with his skin, idly roaming, tickling and teasing, touching everywhere but where he needs to be touched. He thinks he'd like to smack one – or both – of them for the unkind teasing, but he's honestly too busy concentrating on remaining upright and not allowing his knees to buckle—a task which proves to be all the more difficult when Kaeya's teeth graze along one of his hips.
Aether glances down, sees that face so close to his cock, and he can't help but gasp, can't help but finally allow himself to touch, too, both hands coming up to cradle the back of Kaeya's head, fingers tangling in soft, dark tresses, neither holding the man in place, nor making any effort to push him away; Aether doesn't attempt to guide Kaeya in any sense, simply holding on instead, because he doesn't know what else to do. He's in over his head, here—has been since long before now.
(He's finally realizing this.)
Kaeya grins, sharp teeth, playful desire, and then that mouth closes over that same patch of skin, sucking a mark onto it, Kaeya's tongue soothing it after.
There's a bloom of reddish-purple to be seen when Kaeya pulls away. Aether's legs refuse to let him remain in a completely vertical position any longer, but that's okay because Diluc and Kaeya help him onto the couch, their hands pulling him down to them.
He ends up straddling Kaeya's lap, facing him, as Diluc had been earlier, when he'd first walked in on them. Only, the positioning is a little different. Kaeya's no longer facing the edge of the couch and there's room for Diluc to fit behind Aether, between the spread of Kaeya's legs.
Kaeya cups Aether's face, seemingly studying it for a moment before announcing: “I'm going to kiss you now.”
Aether is helpless to do anything aside from go along with it and Kaeya's lips are on his before he can even be bothered to nod his head in agreement, in consent. It's not needed, anyway; they've already been given permission; they've possessed it before now as well, even if Aether's only just vocalized it tonight.
Kaeya's tongue demands an in that Aether doesn't refuse—he doesn't really know how to kiss Kaeya back but he tries; he attempts to follow where the other leads. Kaeya's fingers caress his cheeks and Aether grows bolder, pressing closer, losing himself all too easily in the wet slide and tangle of their tongues, forgetting about technique and focusing on the passion of it all, instead. What he lacks in regards to the former, he hopes he makes up for with the latter.
The kiss grows sloppy and desperate, the longer it goes on, but luckily Kaeya doesn't seem to mind. He keeps kissing Aether, stealing his breath until Aether grows dizzy and has to break away. He wipes at the corner of his mouth and Kaeya chuckles, rubbing a thumb over that same spot.
“So eager. Save some of that for 'Luc too, hmm? Let him have a taste?”
It doesn't need to be asked, doesn't have to be encouraged. Kaeya's words have an effect on both of them, though, and Aether nods, turning his head at the same moment Diluc leans over and in.
Diluc's lips are soft, his tongue gently probing, not demanding anything, unlike Kaeya's. Aether willingly grants him the access that he seeks all the same, and he lets himself melt into this kiss that Diluc gifts him with; this is a slow and sensual drag of mouths, an unhurried exploration that does nothing at all to cool the raging fire that these two started in him, to begin with. It only grows from here, and the chasm of need widens and deepens, leaving Aether adrift somewhere in the gaping space of it.
Hands press flat against his chest; they rub slowly up and down, seemingly without purpose, but then he feels sharp little tugs at his nipples and he moans into the kiss, spine arching, chest pressing forward, seeking more—body asking for it because his mouth is too occupied to manage words.
He swears he feels Diluc smile softly against his lips.
The hands that are on him give him just that, more. Fingers pinch and roll and pull until Aether is whimpering and squirming atop Kaeya's lap, and Kaeya's low, rumbling laugh comes again, making Aether's stomach do a somersault. “He's delightfully sensitive, like you, 'Luc.”
This time, it's Diluc who groans into their kiss, and Aether smiles like he's been entrusted with yet another little secret.
Diluc eventually pulls away but he doesn't stray far; he kisses along the side of Aether's neck; he trails his hands up and down his sides; he rests his chin on Aether's shoulder and he watches as Kaeya plays with Aether's nipples until they're rosy-red, hardened nubs, until they're thoroughly abused, and Aether thinks that Kaeya's done with them, that he's going to give them a break--
He is proven wrong as Kaeya's mouth closes around one, tongue swirling, teeth lightly scraping. Kaeya's hands busy themselves instead with grabbing for one of Diluc's hands, leading it to the other side of Aether's chest, and that's all the prompting Diluc needs before he understands what Kaeya is bidding him to do.
Of course, he obeys, much to Aether's combined delight and horror.
He feels like he could come, just from this. Without either of them touching him. He's so hard right now that it almost hurts. He needs to come, needs some kind of touch, or friction, or--
Diluc crowds in closer, and Aether feels that he is growing hard again now, too, even after what Kaeya had done to him, and Diluc pressing closer pushes Aether more firmly against Kaeya as well. He finds that he can feel Kaeya now, too—how hard he is, how affected he is, by all of this.
That they are both reacting to what they are doing to him makes Aether tremble and whine, makes him shift just so he can feel more of it, more of the both of them, and he's rewarded by the slow roll of Kaeya's hips and the quick pull of Diluc's fingers.
Kaeya kisses at where he's licked and sucked and bitten, slips a hand below to rub, though fleetingly, and Aether nearly sobs as his cock dribbles pre-cum onto Kaeya's clothing.
“Please,” Aether whispers, the word a broken thing.
Kaeya's uncovered eye studies him as his fingers loosely fist Aether's cock, granting him a single, lazy stroke that's not enough and too much at once—Aether's whole body feels as shattered as his voice. He teeters there, on the edge, tortured and imprisoned and utterly freed all at once, and not understanding all of these paradoxical things, too lost in sensation, too awash with the need for them to keep touching him until his tongue knows nothing but the shapes of their names.
“Please, what?” Kaeya asks, palming Aether's sac, which feels so very tight and full. His fingers tickle and tease at Aether's perineum—a light pressure and nothing more. “What are you needing from us?”
Aether shakes his head, not trusting himself to adequately vocalize anything else besides another soft, “Please.”
“He begs so beautifully,” Kaeya sighs, stroking Aether's cheek with his free hand. “And you're so, so pretty when you beg, sweet sunshine boy.” The hand that's teasing Aether ups the ante, increasing the pressure, and Aether almost goes cross-eyed. “You'll have to tell us what you're begging for, though.”
“I can't,” Aether rasps, throat scraped raw with the unabated, persistent need that he feels—it's spilling over, unable to be contained, and Diluc's hands on him are reassuring and should be grounding but they aren't; they're only assisting in this wild, blind cast-off into this spiraling helplessness that Aether feels.
“You can,” Kaeya firmly replies. “You will tell us.”
Aether, in this moment, can almost understand why Diluc so often seems to glare daggers at Kaeya. Right now, part of Aether wants to strangle this wicked man for having the gall to demand the impossible from him—coherency feels so far out of Aether's reach, and yet, it would seem that he's going to have to grasp it in order to get what he actually needs.
“You told me you'd take care of me." Aether levels the hardest stare he can muster at Kaeya, who waits, appearing as nonchalant as he ever has, with the exception of the clothed hardness that Aether can feel against his skin. His voice wobbles and wavers as Diluc's hands knead at his shoulders, his back, his hips, and Kaeya is perfectly still, and Aether wants to scream at the injustice of it all because Kaeya is a knight and shouldn't he be nicer than this?!
“I did,” Kaeya agrees without hesitancy. “But you have to tell us how.”
“Please,” Aether says again, but Kaeya does not budge. Aether has no idea how they should take care of him—he just wants to come, and he genuinely has no reservations at this point in regards to the method used to achieve this. “Just... touch me. Move against me. Anything. Please.”
“So desperate,” Kaeya croons, feigned sympathy ladled over his words. “It's a cute look on you. You should see yourself right now.”
Aether can't imagine how he must look, and doesn't really want to try. He lacks the mental reserves to do so. He's a trembling mess of a thing, reckless and frantic, and he grasps at Kaeya's button-up shirt, feels it crumple in his fingers as he tugs the man in for another kiss, pours more of that pleading into it and prays to the gods that Kaeya will stop toying with him and will have some pity.
“You should be nice,” Diluc tells Kaeya, his lips hot against the back of Aether's neck. His hands are petting lightly-a soothing gesture, a balm for the sting that is Sir Kaeya.
“I'm always nice,” Kaeya argues as Aether pulls away from him, breaking the kiss. Those long lashes flutter as Kaeya trails the fingers of one hand up the length of Aether's cock. “I can be nicer.”
Aether's hips jerk, and then Kaeya's fingers are gone, but before Aether can mourn the loss, Kaeya's hands are on his hips, yanking hard, pulling Aether tightly against him as he rocks his hips up, rough and sweet, hasty and perfect.
The friction is good, and even better is that Kaeya allows Aether to move, to meet each of Kaeya's motions with one of his own. Aether moves with no skill or confidence, chasing his own pleasure, following feelings and obeying the demand of his own body, rutting against Kaeya with wild abandon, relieved that he's being allowed to do it.
“I won't last,” he warns between quiet moans and panting breaths. He wants to feel ashamed of how quickly he's unraveling, each little touch and each roll of his hips pushing him closer to that edge, but all he cares about is receiving what's been promised to him. What he's asked for. What he's wanted since he was sitting on that couch, watching them.
(If he's honest with himself, he's wanted it for far longer than just that.)
“You don't have to,” Kaeya answers. “Take what you need, Aether.” His hands grip and pull, fingers digging in, hard enough to bruise, and even that is exquisite, toeing that line, painful but not.
He's been given permission and so Aether's hips move with an increasing urgency, graceless and strained as the pressure builds and builds--
Diluc grasps his jaw, makes him turn his head for another kiss, and Kaeya makes a sound low in his throat, nails scratching Aether's skin, and that's all it takes, their combined assault succeeding in pushing him right over that precarious precipice.
They catch him, when he falls. His movements falter, hips stutter-jerking, all messy and irregular. Kaeya helps him, pushing and pulling, working him through his release, and Diluc's tongue curls sweetly around his own as he moans into the redhead's mouth, his body a helplessly-trembling thing as he comes in hard spurts—on himself, on Kaeya. No one seems to mind and Aether lacks the wherewithal to feel the least bit sorry about the state of Kaeya's clothes.
The next thing he becomes aware of is the separation of Diluc's lips from his own and the soft conversation that's taking place over his head—he can't make out the words; there's a buzzing in his mind like bees as he floats in the aftermath, grunting weakly as their hands gently manipulate him.
He's limp, putty in their fingers, unable to do anything but let them move him how and where they want him. He's useless, boneless, awash in sensation.
He winds up fully seated in Kaeya's lap, but facing Diluc. Kaeya is hard, still, and Aether wonders if someone should be doing something about that. He wonders, too, why they've repositioned him. He wants to ask, but he can't seem to form words. The best he can manage is a questioning blink and he's not sure that they're able to translate it.
“Use your mouth,” Aether thinks he hears Kaeya say, and then he's certain he's misheard, because that makes little sense and he has no context, anyway. It feels like he's underwater, like sounds are distorted and muted.
“You're telling me to clean up a mess that you caused?” Diluc's trying for affronted, but it seems to fall flat; there's a breathless quality to his voice that Aether's too blissed-out to grasp at, right now.
“We have caused it together,” Kaeya responds and that sounds reasonable enough, to Aether's ears, even though he still doesn't know what's going on.
“I'm not your cleaning boy.” There's protest there, somewhere. At least a fabricated version of it, and it seems more for show than anything else. This Diluc is all bark and no bite—at least, not in any respect that would be unpleasant.
“You aren't,” Kaeya agrees easily enough, and then: “You know precisely what you are to me. But I can repeat it as many times as is necessary.” There's a gravity to his words and it makes Aether momentarily feel like he's intruding, even though their hands are on him and he's still tucked between them.
He doesn't realize his eyes are closed until he blinks them open, sees Diluc looking at Kaeya with an affection that speaks volumes even as Diluc himself remains silent. Aether wonders if he should close his eyes again, wonders if he deserves to see Diluc like this, a different kind of soft. A certain kind of loved (Kaeya-loved).
It is respect and not jealousy that leads Aether's thoughts in this direction. Knowing that they can also be like this with one another, knowing that there is also a precious sweetness—it makes warmth spread in his chest, makes him feel even lighter and more at-ease, and he doesn't fight the droop of his lashes as his eyes fall closed once more.
They fly open heartbeats later, a surprised little moan wrenching itself from his throat at the sensation of a warm wetness trailing over his abdomen; he is met by the sight of Diluc, who is presently hunched over, lapping at the spend on Aether's skin, seemingly content to clean him up in this manner, and now it all makes sense, what Kaeya was saying before.
“Talented tongue, right?” Kaeya asks, and Aether nods without even needing to pause to consider the question, his abdominal muscles tensing and trembling under Diluc's careful and thorough attention. “I told you.”
Kaeya reaches out, cupping Diluc's cheek tenderly, and Diluc leans into it as he finishes his task, making a soft sound that causes something in Aether's chest to clench. It is and is not a painful sort of feeling—a beautiful ache that Aether is certain that he hasn't earned.
There's a wetness on his back; he knows it's his cum, the portion of it that had gotten onto Kaeya's pants, perhaps even his shirt. “Your clothes,” he starts, uncertainly. “I—all over them.”
Kaeya laughs before pressing a kiss to Aether's cheek. “Shall I discard them, then? If you want me naked, Aether, all you have to do is ask.”
Aether wants to protest, wants to say that that wasn't what he meant, but... it's not a bad idea (except that it absolutely, definitely, most certainly is), given that Kaeya has been pretty much fully clothed this whole time and has been hard for... who knows how long.
“You have been overdressed for some time,” Diluc murmurs, and then his mouth snaps shut and his eyes go a little wide, like he can't believe that he's just said those words.
“Oh, unanimous, then.” Kaeya hums, makes a pleased sound that's a match to tinder for Aether, sends heat blazing right through him again, scorching along his bones, and it shouldn't—it shouldn't, but it does. “We'll need to go to bed, then. Are you ready for more, Aether?”
The answer is yes, and Aether knows it probably shouldn't be; it just is. It is a truth that can't be shaken or refuted, and Aether lacks the strength to tuck it away and ignore it, right now.
However, there's still a particular issue at hand that he's already addressed, but feels that it bears repeating now: “I've never—you'll have to—”
So much for repeating, when all he's truly capable of, it seems, is tripping over incomplete sentences.
“We have you,” Diluc assures, saving him from any further pitiful attempts at elaboration, and then he's moving, pulling Aether into his arms. Aether goes willingly, without objection or resistance.
“We will teach you,” Kaeya purrs, before his lips press and his teeth scrape along one of Aether's shoulder blades. “We'll show you what you need. What do you say, hmm?”
Words and actions together raise goosebumps all along Aether's skin. He doesn't trust his voice and so he nods, overwhelmed and over-eager. It hasn't been long at all since he came, between them, and that was plenty—more than he'd expected, more than he'd ever dared to hope for. One hell of a bad idea (with a pleasant outcome) that should've been more than enough for him.
And yet, here he is, still wanting. Still reaching for anything they offer.
How greedy can he be?
(As greedy as they encourage, it turns out. They're enablers, apparently.)
There's more shifting, standing, moving. There's walking, for two of the three of them, at least. Aether just clings, arms winding around Diluc comfortably. He feels small and a little silly like this, but secure, too.
He doesn't question what that means. He can't bring himself to question what any of it truly means, right now.
All he can do is hold on and watch—watch as he's carried down the dimly-lit hall, past the room that he'd been told he could stay the night in, past the bathroom in which he'd enjoyed that bath, earlier. Behind them, Kaeya is discarding clothing, letting each article fall wherever it may, and Aether openly stares while the man gives him a sly smile, probably knowing he's being gawked at.
There's the sound of a door opening. Aether isn't all that focused on it, because Kaeya is fully nude now and Aether might have to semi-squint to see him due to the low level of light, but he is... a sight, just as Aether had known he would be. Lean muscle shifts under skin with Kaeya's movements. He looks nothing and yet everything like a predator prepared to pounce and Aether is... just as willing as Diluc had been, if not even more so.
He is lowered gingerly onto the bed in the room he's been brought into by Diluc. The scent of the linens is light and fresh: rainwater and a soft, playful breeze. Aether settles against the pillows, waits in nervous anticipation as a lamp is turned on and the room is bathed in the soft glow that it emanates.
There's a small dresser nearby; Diluc is rummaging through it, and Kaeya is right there with him, pointing, softly whispering, leaning in to bestow kisses that Diluc doesn't pull away from.
For some reason, their interactions make Aether smile.
They rejoin him together, the mattress dipping with their added weight, their mouths hungry things, kissing and biting all along Aether's skin, and Aether groans as he moves against them, moves with them as they shift. He can feel them, both of them, hard; he can feel a now-familiar heat stirring, can feel his own body reacting, pulse and breath quickening, cock twitching as their hands and mouths give and give—and take, too.
“Remember when my fingers were in 'Luc earlier?” Kaeya asks of him between kisses and something inside of Aether seizes up almost painfully as he nods, shuddering as Kaeya's tongue traces his parted lips. “We're gonna do that for you, too, sweetest sunshine, but more.”
Aether thinks he knows what more is; he thinks he knows what it means, is pretty certain that he has the right idea of what it is, but he finds himself asking anyway, parroting more but punctuating it with a question mark before Diluc's mouth covers his, questing tongue stealing anything else that might have come after that, and stealing every thought but yes right from Aether's mind, too.
“More,” Kaeya affirms with a slow roll of his hips, his cock dragging along the crease of Aether's thigh and pelvis and Aether gasps, but Diluc swallows the sound and just keeps kissing him. Aether is once again being attacked from multiple sides here, two against one. He's a hopeless, helpless thing, caught and held between them, and he knows that it's all a really, really bad idea—everything that has led up to this moment has, in fact, just been one bad idea after another.
He doesn't care, can't bring himself to mind, not when he feels like he's flying, not when they want him, not when he wants them both, and everything that wanting entails.
“Yes,” Aether manages to moan the moment Diluc's lips leave his. There's a tightening inside him; he feels as though whatever it is will snap, all this wild energy releasing as a crackling along his skin, fight-or-flight, and part of him is uncertain, not knowing what to expect, not really. But the whole of him? The whole of him is certain that he wants everything that they're willing to give him, here and now.
“'Luc will have you first,” Kaeya tells him, smirking as he glances side-long at his lover. “I'm a little bigger. He'll get you ready for me.”
There's that seizing feeling, again, low in his gut now. It's anticipation. It's the knowing that he needs, he needs this, and he's never--
It's overwhelming; it swallows him whole, the way they look at him, the way they hold him. They way they touch and kiss—him, and each other. Oh, it isn't fair, is it?
(But somehow, that's okay.)
“The comparison isn't necessary.” Diluc is glaring—or at least making a valiant attempt at doing so. He bucks his hips; they both do, together, and Aether has no idea how either of them will do what they intend to do, doesn't know how either of them will fit, if they're going to do what he thinks they're going to do, but he knows that they know, and that's good enough.
“It's all in good fun,” Kaeya replies with a huffed laugh before he kisses Diluc, and the kiss is a long, heated thing that Aether has the pleasure of watching, and he's watched so much thus far, tonight.
“Show me,” Aether pleads when their kiss is broken, blushing even as his mouth is bold. Diluc's breath hitches; Kaeya's breath is released as a low growl, and there's a trilling frisson that dances down Aether's spine when he hears the sounds they make. It gives him a beautiful little illusion of power, knowing that he can affect them in some way.
“Listen to him, 'Luc. Begging already, and neither of us is even in him yet.” Kaeya's lips press against one of the pulse points near Aether's throat. “Imagine how he'll sound, then.”
Diluc groans in what Aether guesses is some semblance of agreement, his hands wandering along Aether's sides, hips, arms, before he reaches for something that Aether initially cannot see, and whatever it is gets passed to Kaeya.
“Oh?” Kaeya asks, raising an eyebrow as he takes the proffered object, which turns out to be a vial of some liquid-like substance; Aether doesn't think too hard about it right now, doesn't have to, but he feels that this is probably the thing that Kaeya had said that they were lacking, back when he'd been tangled on the couch with Diluc. “You want me to get him ready for you, then?”
Diluc nods wordlessly, and that's all the answer that Kaeya apparently needs. The dark-haired man is sliding down Aether's body in the next instant, fitting himself between legs that spread for him without question or prompting.
Diluc scoots over so that he is beside Aether, and Aether peers down at Kaeya, at the way his own thighs frame Kaeya's strong shoulders, at the way his cock throbs as soon as he feels the whispering tease of breath against sensitive skin.
Kaeya kisses one inner thigh and then the other, closing his lips over a patch of skin and sucking until he's left a pretty mark, until Aether is squirming and whimpering and threading shaky fingers into their hair, pulling one man in closer and holding the other one in place.
Kaeya hums, Diluc moans, and Aether feels teeth and tongue above and below, feels his whole world narrowing down to sensation, to heartbeats, to panting breaths, to the fizzling, sparking, twisting desire inside of him.
Aether has never, ever felt this before. Not in any lifetime. Not in eons. It's too easy, too tempting, to surrender to it.
And so he does.
Aether's world tilts on its axis as he is nearly upended, legs over Kaeya's shoulders, his upper body now bearing the brunt of his own weight. He has no time to ask what Kaeya is doing—Kaeya is showing him before the query can even leave his lips. What leaves him, instead, is a keening sound as the flat of Kaeya's tongue drags slowly over his cock, base to tip, swirling at the slit where slick pre-cum has begun to gather.
Kaeya's mouth opens wider and those lips encircle Aether's dick—Kaeya takes him in entirely and gives a hard pull, his cheeks hollowing, and Aether cries out like he's been hurt but ohhh, he hasn't. He most certainly hasn't.
His own hand does not compare to another's touch, but this? This is heat and wetness, surrounding him, sucking on him; he's never felt anything even close to this, and there's Kaeya's tongue again, the tip of it applying a different, maddening kind of pressure. Hands hold him in place and keep him steady as Kaeya begins to bob his head, up and down, varying the pressure of the suction and the swipes of his tongue. Aether knows he could come, again, from this. Easily.
Kaeya doesn't give him the opportunity, though. He pulls off from Aether as soon as he's gotten a slow rhythm started, and he laughs throatily at the sound of protest that Aether immediately makes as soon as Kaeya's mouth is no longer on him.
“Have some patience, sunshine,” Kaeya teases, and, as if in apology, he mouths at Aether again, though lower this time, fits his lips around Aether's sac and he sucks here, too, gently and much more briefly, releasing him with a wet pop that makes Aether hiss through clenched teeth, and he thinks that Kaeya must be done here, but he's proven wrong when that tongue presses against the soft skin between his balls, firmly lapping at that spot until Aether is dizzy from his own constantly-growing want and from Kaeya's wonderfully cruel teasing.
Kaeya works his way lower, tonguing at Aether's perineum, and then lower still, until—
That tongue circles his hole slowly, testingly, and Aether releases a startled gasp and tries to scramble away, but Kaeya's hands hold fast to his hips, and that grip doesn't relent in the slightest.
“Y-you shouldn't,” Aether starts, attempting to close his thighs around Kaeya's head, to make the man pause and think about what he's doing, where his tongue is, but then Diluc's hands are there, his grip not as punishing as Kaeya's but equally as effective; Diluc keeps Aether splayed open while Kaeya keeps him suspended, and Aether can see the smile in Kaeya's visible eye and kind of wants to kick him, maybe. Just a little.
Aether watches long lashes lower and flutter, feels that tongue circle again and then press, just barely. He wonders if Kaeya does this to Diluc, too, thinks that he must, and he wonders if Diluc had reacted the same way, the first time. He wonders if Kaeya had held him down and open, had reassured him with a look and had just kept going, unperturbed.
Aether has a pretty good idea that that's probably exactly how it went down.
There's a careful, slow probing. A wet slide—muscle along skin, against muscle. It's an unusual, but not unpleasant sensation. Aether lets go of the tension, feels strained muscles go lax as he closes his eyes and gives himself permission to let this feel nice, without so much thought and without argument involved.
“It's not gross?” he finds himself asking all the same, and that's when Kaeya resurfaces to level him with a serious look—one that makes Aether regret even uttering the question.
Where Kaeya's mouth had been is spit-slick, and it's embarrassing but Aether wants Kaeya to go back, to resume what he'd been doing, and doesn't that make Aether himself just as dirty?
(Kaeya had talked about Diluc's talented mouth but had failed to warn Aether about his own.)
“There is nothing gross about you,” Kaeya answers, and he speaks those words with just as much conviction as he would if he were presenting a speech about upholding the safety of the citizens of Mondstadt. “And besides, you just had a bath, so stop thinking and worrying and enjoy, sunshine. This is just a prelude—there's so much more to come.”
Having said that, Kaeya dips his head back between Aether's thighs, continuing to work his magic with his tongue, and with every swipe, with every press, with every lick, it starts to feel less curious and strange and more pleasurable. Aether's cock seems to agree—it's fully hard and leaking where it's curved against his belly. He wants to ask one of them to touch him there, too; he thinks that, maybe, that would make him come again.
He also kind of wants to ask if Kaeya can go... deeper? Firmer? He'd used his fingers on Diluc, and it seems logical that he'd do the same to Aether (maybe; it seems to be fairly common in the things that Aether's read), but perhaps Aether is once more getting ahead of himself, or wanting to ask for too much, but if they are going to give him themselves, well....
Kaeya's tongue is suddenly no longer there. The room goes mostly right-side-up again as Aether's legs are slid off Kaeya's shoulders and his hips are lowered to the bed. He rights himself just in time to see Kaeya opening that mystery vial; he watches as some of that wet-looking substance is deposited onto his fingers, and then Aether's holding his breath as one slippery finger prods lightly at his entrance before pressing slowly in.
It's different from Kaeya's tongue—not as soft. Still not unpleasant, but very different, and he grunts as that single digit presses in a little deeper, deeper than Kaeya's tongue had been.
“Tell him if you need him to slow down,” Diluc whispers, swiping a thumb over Aether's bottom lip, which proves to be a bit of a welcome distraction. Aether licks at that thumb, tastes the salt on Diluc's skin, wonders if Diluc will press that thumb into his mouth like Kaeya's finger is pushing into him, below.
Aether's desire must be scrawled all over his face, or Diluc is particularly intuitive, because in the next moment, that thumb is in his mouth and Aether is whimpering around it, trying to suck on it while he feels himself clench slightly around Kaeya.
“Relax, sweet sunshine,” Kaeya commands. “Don't clench around me—not yet. You'll make it harder for yourself. You're going to have to take two of my fingers before Diluc can have you, and right now, you're only taking half of one. You need to acquaint yourself with the feeling of something inside you.”
Aether's eyes widen and then shut again as he feels Diluc's thumb press firmly against his tongue, pushing it down. The moan he makes is low and muffled, but it grows louder when Kaeya's finger pushes in even deeper.
He doesn't realize he's stopped clenching until that finger starts to move, to and fro, back and forward, a cautious retreat and advance that gradually quickens. Kaeya works his index finger into Aether again and again, and when it feels like he's going to pull it out of him, he instead tugs ever so lightly at the rim of Aether's entrance, and Aether makes another sound around the thumb in his mouth—this one needy and, yes, louder.
There's something else, too, that Aether realizes in all of this: that, for all of Kaeya's playful teasing and quick-fire banter, he is being very serious, with this, with the way he's treating Aether, like he is some precious thing that's meant to be taken care of, like this.
They are treating him so well; they are taking good care of him, as they had promised Aether they would, and they've apparently barely even gotten started.
That warmth in his chest is a different kind of ache than the other one that they're making him feel. Aether can't focus on both at once; it's too much, and so he chooses to focus on the ache in his cock, the ache inside when Kaeya's finger bottoms out again, the ache in his jaw when Diluc pushes just a little harder with his thumb before he retreats entirely.
Aether wants to comment on it, wants to ask why, but then Kaeya is adding a second finger to join the first and Aether feels the there-and-gone sting as he is stretched wider, spread and speared open. For them. For what they're going to do to him.
For them to fuck him.
Aether surrenders to an anticipatory shiver, at this thought, at the slap of realization that this is happening, that they want him in this way. This is a record on repeat, of course—this isn't the first time he's thought this, tonight, but it still knocks the breath out of him, regardless.
He feels himself clench around Kaeya's fingers again; he can't help the involuntary motion. He apologizes and then he focuses all his efforts on unclenching, and when he manages that, Kaeya smiles and kisses the mark he'd left on Aether's inner thigh.
“That's right,” Kaeya purrs as he starts that rhythmic push-and-pull with his fingers, pressing them in as deep as they'll go, twisting his wrist until Aether's hips leave the bed and this, too, is a compulsory response. “Look at you. Are you going to take our cocks as well as you're taking my fingers, Aether?”
Aether nods vehemently as that wrist twists again and he moans helplessly, just wanting to give the right answer, just wanting to be given more of that, just wanting—
“What a good boy you are for us,” Kaeya tells him, and pleasure washes over Aether at the praise; it's all too easy to become submersed in this—in Kaeya's words, in the way they make him feel, in the way his cock jumps at them, those sweet words as effective as a touch, and he is reminded of how very unfair all of this is, but gods, does it ever feel incredible.
Aether wants to hear more of these sorts of things from Kaeya, before the night is through. He makes his mind up then and there that he will endeavor to earn that praise.
One of Diluc's hands trails idly over Aether's chest as the redhead watches his lover work between Aether's legs. Fingers skitter over Aether's nipples and Aether whines, tipping his head back for a kiss, which Diluc grants, while Kaeya keeps fingering him open.
Those fingers scissor and then curl inside of him, as though seeking something. They pull back, press in again, a little deeper, and curl once more. They brush against something inside, carefully rubbing, gradually applying more pressure as the motion is repeated. Initially, it just feels altogether different, but as Kaeya keeps stimulating that same area and as Aether adjusts to the feeling of it, he realizes that the strangeness of it all is falling away quickly, leaving room for only the pleasure that Kaeya seems so intent on giving him.
Those fingers retreat partway before pushing in again, curling and pressing, like before, but at the same time, it is nothing like before. This time, Aether jolts and he moans loudly against Diluc's mouth, lightning striking, the reverberations of it rolling up Aether's spine and then back down again.
He's left tremoring in the wake of it, his limbs feeling all jelly-like and useless, and he breaks away from Diluc so he can stare down at Kaeya, wide-eyed, knowing that it was this, this, that made Diluc come, earlier. Kaeya's fingers had done this, had found that place inside of Diluc, had made him come perfectly undone, and oh, Aether truly understands, now.
“What have we here?” Kaeya drawls, and his curiosity is so disingenuous that Aether wants to roll his eyes, but he can't be bothered; Kaeya is smug and he has a right to be, and so Aether cannot argue, and anyway, he very much wants Kaeya to keep repeating that action, now that it feels like this.
Kaeya does just that, and it causes the same effect—Aether releases a splintering whine, his breathing going all jagged, his vocabulary reduced to a near-incoherent string of words: their names, please, yes, and more.
Then there's more of something—of whatever that slippery substance is; Aether feels it as it trickles down along his opening, and then those fingers are moving faster inside him. He holds his breath, anticipating discomfort to follow, given the quicker pace, but the worry proves to be all for nothing and it melts away, like everything else, under Kaeya's touch. Kaeya continues the same, sweet torture, and Aether knows nothing except how good the man is making him feel. Even the slight stretch is nothing more than a distant ache, now, an inconsequential thing. Those fingers stretch him, pull at him, fuck into him, and Aether finds himself babbling, “Yes, yes, yes,” hips trying to roll, to rock down, to move with Kaeya's fingers, to force them in deeper because he needs—
“Archons above and below, you are perfect,” and oh, Kaeya may be blessed with the ability to bullshit his way through just about anything; he can manipulate so well with high praise that isn't even remotely authentic, but is merely a tool at his disposal, another method of getting him what he wants. His words are part of his arsenal, and he deploys the weapons he has on hand with expert precision.
Kaeya has always teased Aether, too. It's something that Aether has gotten used to, in the time that he's known Kaeya.
This, though? Kaeya looks and sounds awe-struck, his voice rough in a way that makes Aether twitch and leak and clench, want and need and something unnamed twining together, climbing higher, and he knows that these are words that Kaeya means.
This knowledge sinks in and settles, makes Aether's whole body feel so warm.
Kaeya's gaze slides to Diluc as he keeps thrusting his fingers in a mimicry of what Aether knows is about to occur. “Wait until you feel him, 'Luc.”
“I know,” Diluc replies, his voice whisper-thin and soft and so sure, and then his fingers are wrapping around Aether's dick and they're stroking him in time with the push and press of Kaeya's fingers, and Aether is torn between chasing pleasure in both directions, friction and pressure and a deliciously- and rapidly-building tension right there, right at the center of his awareness.
He manages a brief snap of his hips which is cut short by Kaeya's free hand on his hip like a vice, the skin there already tender from how they'd both held onto him, earlier. The sting makes Aether hiss, but even this has its merits, even this serves to turn Aether on all the more, knowing that his pleasure is in their hands.
He'd given them full control of it when he'd consented, after all.
“Uh-uh,” Kaeya scolds with a little shake of his head, even as his fingers keep pumping into Aether, but slower, now. Aether needs them to move faster, Aether needs them to push in deeper, to curl and deliberately rub that spot while Diluc strips him until Aether is coming on his own clenched stomach, on Diluc's hand that's wrapped around him.
“Do you feel like you're going to come?” Diluc asks, and he's slowing down too, to match Kaeya. It's maddening, the way they fall in sync, the way they torture him together like this.
Aether nods weakly, held on the edge of spilling over, but not allowed to cross that threshold.
“Not until 'Luc is inside of you, sweet sunshine,” Kaeya commands, and what choice does Aether have, but to obey? Especially when they stop altogether. Those fingers leave him, his hole twitching around nothing, empty. That hand stops stroking him, and Aether is left full-to-bursting, unshed tears blurring his vision and stinging his eyes.
The cruelty thankfully does not last. Diluc and Kaeya trade places, Kaeya moving to Aether's side and Diluc sliding between his spread legs. Anticipation grips Aether by the throat, makes it hard for him to breathe. Kaeya's touch is now a sweet, soothing thing, his voice a gentle whisper tinged with soft affection: “Relax for us, Aether. You took my fingers so well. You said you'd do the same with our cocks, hmm? Show us that you can. We know you can.”
The encouragement does something to Aether's insides, makes his stomach – or his heart – drop and soar all at once; it's too convoluted to contemplate, too much to try to take in when he's already been given so much and yet he wants more.
(Later, he'll unravel everything, treat it like a spool of yarn that's been wound too tightly; he'll smooth his fingers over the snags and snarls; he'll make sense of it all. Later.)
Diluc takes one of Aether's shaking hands, pressing lingering kisses to each of his knuckles. “I won't hurt you,” he murmurs, like it's a solemn vow that he has every intent of upholding. It's almost funny how he can be such a gentleman, even here, even now, with Aether splayed before him for the taking. He is unwaveringly considerate, fiercely kind, even when he doesn't have to be, even when he's trying not to be.
(Aether knows that even in Diluc's silence, there is kindness.)
“I know,” Aether breathes in answer, and he does. He feels it in his bones, in his veins, in the steady thrumming of his pulse. He knows that Diluc's only intent is pleasure, for the both of them.
(Well, for all three of them, honestly.)
Diluc nods, then looks to Kaeya; at first, Aether isn't sure if he's wordlessly asking for guidance or if he's trying to let Kaeya know that he needs something, or if he's just looking at Kaeya because he wants to (and Aether couldn't blame him if that's the case; he's got no problem admitting – at least to himself – that Kaeya is very, very nice to look at); however, rather than just look, Diluc extends his hand, holds it there as though he's waiting for Kaeya to give him something.
Kaeya reaches out his hand as well, but then shakes his head and Diluc makes a sound of frustration, only to be met with Kaeya's answering chuckle.
“Let me. I've got you.” Kaeya opens that vial again, pouring its contents onto his outstretched hand, reaching over Aether and between his legs, wrapping slick fingers around Diluc's erection and stroking it, coating it with that lubricating substance. He gives several long, slow pulls, and Diluc eventually tries to push him away, though Kaeya doesn't budge.
“Keep that up, and I will be the one finishing before we even get started here,” Diluc warns. “Stop playing around, alright?” He sounds far less inconvenienced about this than he probably intends to, voice strained with an obvious hunger.
“Just trying to lend a helping hand.” There's an innocent lilt to Kaeya's tone but his actions belie his words when he squeezes Diluc's cock and tugs it one last time before releasing him. “Go ahead, then. I'm going to enjoy watching you.”
Diluc flushes, but recovers quickly, turning his focus to Aether once more. He fits one hand on Aether's hip while he uses the other to guide himself into position, and Aether watches all the while, sucks in a sharp breath when he feels the blunt head of Diluc's cock at his entrance, not yet pressing, but rubbing, teasing. There's promise in this, too, and Aether quivers at it, wondering how different it's going to feel—Kaeya's fingers, Diluc's cock.
“Relax,” Kaeya reminds him, and Aether pours all of his effort into going still and tractable, perfectly yielding as ordered, for the both of them.
“I'm ready.” Aether does not beg, this time, but the plea is there, trapped in the words that he's just uttered, shards of entreaty remaining on his tongue; it is apparent. He knows that they can hear it.
Diluc is slow and so very careful. He treats Aether as though he might break, should he push too far, too fast. In a sense, Aether is grateful for this, because even with all of Kaeya's work in preparing him, it's still a stretch. It's still very different from Kaeya's fingers.
It's a very gradual thing, the way Diluc presses into him, fills him. Aether feels every inch of Diluc like this, feels him pause as he bottoms out, his pelvis flush against Aether's ass, his length fully sheathed within him, and the both of them take a breath in the lull, processing and feeling, savoring.
“How does it feel?” Kaeya asks, and Aether isn't sure who the question is directed at.
“Full,” is Aether's response.
“Tight,” is Diluc's. They answer at the same time.
“I can't wait.” Kaeya is lazily palming himself now, and he is staring at the place where Aether's and Diluc's bodies are joined. “Can he move now, sweet sunshine? Are you ready to fly?”
“Yes,” Aether croaks, and then the stillness ceases, transforms to slow motion. Aether can feel the drag of Diluc's cock inside him as the redhead draws back until the flared head tugs lightly at Aether's rim, and then he presses back in; the motion is repeated until Diluc has found a rhythm, faster now, and it feels incredible.
It gets even better when Kaeya lifts Aether's legs and settles them over Diluc's shoulders. This way, Aether is bent nearly in half and he suddenly has to work harder to breathe; the change in position skews the rhythm that Diluc has worked to create, but on the next thrust, Diluc glides against that sweet spot that Kaeya's fingers had found earlier, and Aether's toes curl, the darkness behind his closed eyelids suddenly littered with silver-white stars. He feels himself clench around Diluc, hears the man groan, feels him hit that spot again, and Aether can't help but scramble for something to hold onto, finding one of Kaeya's hands and squeezing tight as Diluc finds a new rhythm here, one that has Aether practically wailing with every push of Diluc's hips.
“You both look so gorgeous.” Kaeya rubs his thumb over Aether's knuckles; Aether is still gripping him tightly and Kaeya is allowing it, squeezing back in reassurance. “You're both doing so well—'Luc, I knew you would look amazing, taking him like this. Seeing it just proves me right.”
Aether can feel Diluc shiver; he doesn't know if it's due to Kaeya's words or due to how Aether himself feels around him, but whatever the cause, Diluc doubles down on his efforts, fucking into Aether harder and faster, grinding – most likely deliberately – against that spot that now feels so unspeakably good, and Aether has no idea what he's done to get this lucky, except make a bunch of bad decisions and agree to a bunch of bad ideas that he knows he would absolutely do all over again, if it meant that he would get this, this feeling of fullness, of pure and unadulterated pleasure that makes him tingle all over, from the top of his scalp to the tips of his toes.
Diluc must be able to tell that Aether is close, because he tells him: “You can let go. It's okay. I'm right behind you.” Each plunge is quick and sure, controlled and not at all reckless, but there's a tease of something else, something that could be. Something that will be, if Diluc also lets himself go. His pupils are blown wide, his expression nearly blissful, and Aether can relate to it all too well, by now.
(He never has, before.)
He wants to come.
Aether looks to Kaeya; he tries to bite back a desperate little noise and he fails. He finds himself tripping over thoughts and words again as he asks, “Can I?”
Kaeya smiles, as though pleased that he's been asked. “You can,” he replies, letting go of Aether's hand so that he can brush loose strands of hair away from Diluc's face. “Both of you have earned it. You can come.” Having given permission, he dips down, lips fitting around Aether's dick, and it feels just as good as before—even better, given how close Aether already is, and the fact that he's receiving stimulation elsewhere, as well. That tongue teases at the head of his throbbing cock at the same time Diluc rolls his hips, pushing in deliciously deep, and that's all that Aether can handle; he falls entirely to pieces for a second time since all of this started, gripping at Kaeya's hair, coming in his mouth, down his throat, his heels digging into Diluc's upper back, drawing him close and closer still. This gives him leverage, allows him to work his own hips, forward into Kaeya's mouth and then back onto Diluc's cock as he comes so hard that his mind fills with a white static. It drowns out everything else.
Well, almost everything else.
Diluc keeps moving in him, with him, hips stuttering, and then he makes this helpless sound, guttural and raw, and there's a warmth spilling into Aether, making him feel even more full, impossibly so.
It's good, though. Better than good. It feels nice. It feels right.
They twitch and tremble together through their shared pleasure; Aether feels Kaeya swallow, and then he's pulling off, immediately stealing Aether's breath with a filthy, bitter-perfect kiss, licking into Aether's mouth, lingering there for a moment or two before withdrawing to bestow the same treatment to Diluc, murmuring soft, sweet-sounding words afterwards that Aether can't quite hear.
Diluc remains in him for some time while they both catch their breath and recover to some degree. He pulls out only when he's grown softer, and he's careful with this, too, careful with the way he lowers Aether's hips back to the mattress, careful with the way he kisses him, all soft and achingly sweet.
“You're good to me.” Aether doesn't realize he's spoken the words aloud until he feels Diluc smile against his lips, and then he wants to shrink away in embarrassment.
“You deserve that goodness,” Diluc declares, and Aether doesn't know what he's done to earn it, but he thanks every archon in existence for the gift of it.
He shifts a little, blushing when he feels some of Diluc's release leak out of him and dribble onto the bed below.
He immediately misses... the full feeling. Misses having something inside.
His thoughts spill right out of his pleasure-addled mind onto his tongue and are expelled into the space shared by the three of them. Aether doesn't mean for them to—they just do, and once they've been spoken, they can't be retracted, can't be swallowed and pushed back into that corner of his mind.
He's never uttered anything so obscene before.
He's never had reason to.
“Fuck,” he hears Kaeya hiss, and then rough hands (Kaeya's hands) are pulling at him, urging him to roll over. “I've got you, sunshine. I will give you what you're still craving. What you're already missing. It's my turn, now.”
There's a different type of vulnerability that occurs when Aether is facing away from Kaeya, like this. When he can't see what the man behind him is doing, when he can only feel. When those hands move him where they want him to be, on hands and knees, and then grip his cheeks and spread them apart, his breathing and his pulse accelerate once more—not that they've really been given much of a chance to calm down. Aether has been passed from one to the other, back and forth, and it's nothing short of titillating, even – perhaps especially – when he can feel Kaeya's eyes on him, as though the man is surveying Diluc's handiwork, or trying to gauge how well Aether took what was given to him.
Aether feels more of that warmth seeping out of him, slowly making its way down one of his inner thighs, and he hears Kaeya whistle softly, feels Kaeya's fingers grip him all the tighter, keeping him spread open, but doing nothing about it.
“You've stretched him so well for me, 'Luc,” Kaeya comments, and Diluc hums—a short, non-committal sound, in reply, but one glance at him, and Aether can tell how he radiates with pleasure at the compliment as he lounges on the bed, lazy and content; he has the gift of seeing everything as it unfolds before him—he's able to watch what Kaeya is doing. He's able to see Aether's reactions. There's a small smile playing on his lips, and it is beautiful because it isn't a conscious thing.
Happiness – and satisfaction – suit Diluc.
Turns out that absolute debauchery does, too.
“I should've told you to clench,” Kaeya murmurs then, his words like an afterthought. “Should've told you to hold on to everything that 'Luc gave you. Should've told you to keep it all inside, so that I could've felt it all, when I push into you.” A thumb swipes at his entrance and Aether gasps, his hole twitching involuntarily at the motion, and Kaeya continues: “It's okay, though. No need to fret. I didn't tell you. I'm still going to enjoy feeling you, sunshine, and feeling his cum in you while I fuck you.”
Aether's body trembles at the words and even though he's already come twice, his cock is still intent on showing its interest in the current situation at hand; it twitches and it throbs and he knows that if even he himself were to touch it, it would be too much; it's still wet with saliva and cum. Friction would border on painful, his skin overly-sensitive, and yet—he still wants it.
Just like he wants to be filled, again. Just like he doesn't want to feel this sensation that he had never known as emptiness, before now.
Kaeya's hands leave his skin, and then Aether feels him shift, senses him looming over him, arms on either side of his body, caging him in. Soft breath against his ear: a whispered, “Ready for me?” Teeth tug at his earring and Aether makes a sound that may or may not be a mewl. It's a pitiful, insensible noise, but Aether knows it has to convey the desperate want that he is feeling.
“Is that a yes or a no?” Kaeya asks, and Aether feels a teasing nudging at his hole—just the slightest hint of what he craves, leaps and bounds away from what he needs; not enough pressure and not inside. “Where's all those pretty, filthy words you were surprising us with earlier, sunshine? Let us hear them before 'Luc's cum all leaks out of you.”
“You're terrible,” Diluc declares, and somehow doesn't sound at all like he means it. The both of them wait in Aether's silence and Aether wants to bite down on something, wants to distract himself from this indescribable frustration and this impossible and insurmountable desire that he feels.
He bites down on his tongue and finds that the pain of it only agitates him further. Tears spring to his eyes once more, threatening to fall, and he wonders just why it is that Kaeya has to tease him like this when everyone in the room knows exactly what it is that Aether wants and needs.
Then again, Aether knows that it's all part of Kaeya's nature.
Just as eagerness to please is apparently part of Aether's own (especially if it means that he's rewarded for it).
“In me,” Aether moans, his entire face aflame, red as Diluc's hair, no doubt, but it doesn't matter. Shame doesn't suit him, here, isn't a color meant to be worn for this occasion, because his body gives him away even when his words don't. “Need you in me.” He arches back—a hint, a plea, a telling.
Kaeya's length rubs against him, a tortuous back-and-forth that Aether whimpers at, because it still isn't what he needs, isn't what he's asking for, but then--
“That's what I wanted to hear,” Kaeya tells him, one of his hands now on one of Aether's hips. “You're so vocal when you're prompted to be. So complaisant, aren't you, our pretty, needy boy? Will you tell us anything, all those lovely thoughts in your head, so long as it ensures that you get one of us inside you?”
Aether is as guilty as charged as they come, he supposes, and so he neither confirms nor denies the accusation (the truth)--at least, not vocally. Not this time. Instead, he arches back again, feels the slick slide of Kaeya's cock between his cheeks, once more achingly close and yet nowhere near where Aether needs him to be, and it is maddening and it is delicious.
“Inside,” he says, again. Demands it with his voice while his body supplicates, some part of him belatedly stumbling over Kaeya calling him theirs, everything else skidding to an abrupt halt and circling around that instead, and Aether finds that thinking about it raises goosebumps on his skin, sends lightning skittering through his veins.
Kaeya rearranges himself, and Aether feels the head of his cock prodding at him, not yet entering, but Aether can now taste the promise of it instead of just the tease of it and he wants to sob in relief.
“We should explore this further at some point,” Kaeya casually continues, just barely pressing into Aether, and if this is meant to teach him patience, it's a really terrible lesson. “See what we can make him say for us, 'Luc.”
“Another time,” Diluc replies before leaning in to kiss Aether, the gesture a sweet distraction. “He's being very good, and look at you, look at how you're treating him.”
Diluc is truly Aether's hero, standing up for him like this.
“You're right, love,” Kaeya smoothly agrees, no argument to be found in his words. “Forgive me, sweet sunshine,” he murmurs, and that's all the warning Aether is given before what he's been asking for is finally given to him.
Kaeya, unlike Diluc, is not slow and careful with Aether. His hips snap forward and he fully sheaths himself inside of Aether in that singular thrust. There's pressure and there's a stretching sensation, like before, just more—it's almost too much, too fast, but archons, it feels--
“You're incredible,” Kaeya groans, nuzzling at the back of Aether's neck, holding himself in place momentarily, giving Aether a brief period of time to adjust, an instant to suck in a breath that is only punched right out of his lungs when Kaeya draws back and shoves in again, and this thrust is just as rough as the first one had been. Aether thinks that it should probably hurt, should probably not feel as good as it does, but his muscles are loose and his body is relaxed from his previous orgasms, and they had gotten him used to the feeling of being penetrated, with tongue and fingers first, and then Diluc had taken him with such tenderness, had promised that he would not hurt him.
Kaeya had not made the same promise, but Aether knows that if he were to ask Kaeya to slow down, or to stop altogether, Kaeya would do so.
Kaeya is not hurting him, and Aether does not want him to slow down, or stop.
He can feel himself getting hard again. He can feel himself clenching, too, around Kaeya, who slams into him again and again, bottoming out with every plunge, already finding a rough and rushed rhythm and sticking with it, and at this rate, Aether will probably come embarrassingly quickly, again.
Warm fingers massage his temples, then trail down his cheeks, along his jaw. Aether looks up to find Diluc watching him, touching him.
“Feels good?” Diluc asks, as though he needs some verbal confirmation that, yes, it feels very good, when he of all people should know just how good Kaeya can make one feel; Aether is certain that Diluc has been given this kind of pleasure from Kaeya many, many times before now.
(Oh, but Aether knows now, too; he knows Kaeya's kiss and touch; he knows the shape of him, how he feels inside, and he's learning more by the moment.)
Aether nods weakly, pushing his hips back and tilting his head, leaning into the contact he's receiving from the both of them. He's a greedy, greedy thing tonight, and they are allowing it. They are indulging him.
And so Aether takes what they are giving him but he gives, too: he gives with the way he rocks back against Kaeya, inviting and encouraging him to keep going, just like that; he gives with the way he whines and moans and whimpers, the little fucked-out noises falling oh-so-easily from his lips; he gives with the way he yields to the both of them, malleable as wet clay, taking every inch of Kaeya's cock while Diluc hooks fingers beneath his chin, tips his head back so that he can lick into his mouth, and Aether lets him—he feels himself melt to nothing and be reformed and reforged between and beneath them. This rebirth of his is theirs, and Aether gives this freely, too.
There's a fleeting thought that maybe he shouldn't, maybe he shouldn't give so much in this moment of passion, while coherency and clarity are nearly non-existent, but that thought leaves him the instant Diluc presses closer, deepening the kiss further, and all thoughts leave him again entirely when Kaeya makes him arch his back a little differently; while it changes the angle only slightly, when Kaeya pushes in again, Aether is struck by a bolt of pleasure so strong that it steals away these thoughts and scatters them like petals on the wind, dismisses them and stamps them out wherever they try to land.
“There we go,” Kaeya murmurs, with no small amount of satisfaction. “That's where you need me to be.”
Aether is, in all actuality, very glad that it's them, and not anyone else. He's very glad that this... is for them.
Diluc breaks the kiss but keeps his hands on Aether, keeps touching him—caressing his face, his sides, fingers skittering over nipples, skimming over tense abdominal muscles. Behind him inside him, Kaeya is setting a brutal pace, hips pistoning, cock slamming into him, giving him no chance at all to catch his breath, every motion sending him hurtling that much closer to completion – for a third time – and Aether is now too far gone to be embarrassed over how loud he's getting. Kaeya's thrusts are deliberate and precise, unerringly hitting that place inside of him that's already received attention in excessive amounts, and if this keeps up, Aether is going to come without his cock requiring any stimulation whatsoever.
“Look at how well you're taking me,” Kaeya comments. “Even when I'm fucking you this hard. You're practically sucking me in. I love how eager you are. How made for this you seem to be. For us.”
“For us,” Diluc echoes—an obvious agreement, and Aether finds himself gasping at their words, nodding mutely, telling them yes with his body instead of making any attempt at vocalization. They might only mean for now, but that's okay.
In this one crystallized moment, he is theirs.
Aether feels a hand wrap around his braid, feels a sharp tug. His head snaps back and he grits his teeth, his cock jumping at the pinpricks of pain that assault his scalp—and even this is its own pleasure. He knows that it shows on his face when he hears Diluc's soft intake a breath.
“You're close,” Kaeya says, and it isn't a question. His hand is wound tight in Aether's hair and his cock is still fucking into Aether relentlessly, without any semblance of mercy. “Ready to come for us again, then, sweet sunshine?”
Aether nods as best as he can, given the hold on his hair, and he hisses a low yes for good measure. All at once, his braid is released and Kaeya is pulling out of and away from him entirely. There's no time to mourn the loss, or wonder what the hell is going on, though, because in the next instant their hands are pulling and pushing, moving him where they want him, yet again.
Where they want him is apparently straddling Kaeya's hips.
Kaeya peers up at him, grinning. “What did I tell you about not wasting what 'Luc gave you, hmm?”
You're the one who stopped and put me like this! Aether wants to yell, but before he can even make an attempt at doing so, Kaeya's hands are pulling him down, and Kaeya's hips are thrusting up; Kaeya re-enters Aether's pliant body, just as deeply as before, and then--
He stills
Aether gazes down at the man in confused frustration, wondering why he's stopped, again. “K-Kaeya...?”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Kaeya circles Aether's navel with the index finger of one hand, and Aether holds his breath as that finger dips lower and lower, down to his pelvis, down to the base of his cock, and then that touch is gone.
Again, Aether nods.
“Then work for it.” Kaeya's hands settle on Aether's hips. “Fuck yourself on me. Use these perfect hips of yours. You can do it.”
“I can't,” Aether protests, the words having to work themselves past the sudden lump in his throat. “I told you that I don't know how to--”
“You can,” Kaeya interrupts, insistent. “You will. I'm close, too, you know. You feel so good around me. Come on.”
It really isn't fair. Kaeya is a dichotomy in and of himself, and his sweet words coupled with his harsh, rough actions are giving Aether whiplash. Aether wants to be frustrated, and he is. He doesn't want to be even more turned on.
(But, again, he is.)
“You're a terrible man,” Aether accuses, even though he doesn't actually mean it. “To get me so close and then stop, and demand that I do it myself when I've never--”
“Your body knows,” Kaeya interjects. “Just listen to it, beautiful.”
Aether is left once again to chase his own pleasure, even though he's already established that he really doesn't know what to do, or how. His trembling thighs strain, lifting him up and down. His hips begin a slow roll, and after a few false starts, he finds a tentative, sloppy rhythm. It's not brutal, like Kaeya's. It's not careful, like Diluc's.
It's unpracticed, inexperienced, haphazard, imperfect.
Kaeya doesn't seem to mind, though. He's gazing up at Aether, his one visible star-bright eye heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed a ruddy pink. “That's right,” he's encouraging between the low moans that he's making. “Keep going. You feel so good.”
It's a dizzying, marvelous thing, being able to see Kaeya, like this. To see pleasure scrawled across his handsome face. To hear it in his groans. To think, to realize, that Aether himself is the cause, is almost too much.
“'Luc,” Kaeya gasps, and he sounds and looks so unguarded, control seemingly slipping from his grasp as the seconds tick by, and the sight of it makes Aether's heart leap into his throat—he hasn't seen Kaeya like this until just now, and he's not certain what to do, how to proceed, how to take what he needs and give the man beneath him what he needs, as well.
“I'm here,” Diluc rushes to comfort, his hands joining Kaeya's on Aether's hips, fingers intertwining with Kaeya's. “I've got the both of you.”
Those hands surprisingly neither push nor pull at him. They only hold, and Aether sinks down and down, succeeds in finding that place inside himself that they had found, and fire licks between his shoulder blades; need twists tight, low in his groin, demanding him to move harder, faster.
And so, he does.
Rise and fall, fall and rise; his hips are a rolling tide and Kaeya is the shore that he crashes against before withdrawing, only to repeat the motion—again and again.
Diluc is the moon, and there is indeed a gravity here, shared between the three of them, just as compelling as it is incontrovertible. Aether answers that call, follows that pull, sinks down onto Kaeya with no finesse but with plenty of feeling, and that seems to be more than enough, somehow, for the both of them.
“I'm gonna come in you,” Kaeya tells him, with that same dark promise in his voice as earlier, and he sounds so sure and so undone all at once. So affected, and Aether's hips sink shakily back down, his rhythm now disjointed, but it doesn't matter; he was so close, already, and now--
“Please,” he hears himself beg, the word immediately following a hiccuping moan, and he realizes he's doing quite a lot of this tonight, all things considered—this pleading. He feels threadbare. He is fraying at the edges. He is desperate.
Someone's fingers wrap around his dick and start to stroke roughly, and that, coupled with his next downward plunge, is what sends him over the edge. Aether comes with a hoarse, high, strung-out whine; he comes on his own abdomen and chest, on Kaeya, on the hand that keeps working him through it as he is reduced to a shuddering and shivering mess.
Kaeya rocks his own hips up, shoves into Aether deeply one last time, and then Aether feels it, feels the tell-tale heat of Kaeya's release, joining what remains of Diluc's, inside him.
Feeling Kaeya come only serves to make Aether himself come even harder.
Kaeya keeps fucking his hips up, keeps fucking into Aether until Aether has nothing left, until the overwhelming pleasure transitions to near-pain due to the oversensitivity, the overstimulation. Aether's vision blurs and he can't blink the tears away this time, doesn't have the energy to bother to try. He lets them fall as Kaeya's hips gradually slow and then go still.
Their hands are fluttering around him, all over him. Kaeya's sitting up more, jostling him, but then those arms are wrapping around him, pulling him as close as possible, all while Kaeya remains inside of him. It's painfully intimate, and for some reason, it makes the tears fall faster.
Eventually, they stop, and so does Aether's trembling. Kaeya is growing soft, and it only takes a careful shift to slide out of Aether entirely. Diluc is right there with them, petting Aether's back in slow and comforting circles. Aether feels ridiculous.
“I'm sorry,” he apologizes, and feels silly for this, too.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” Diluc answers, kissing his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” Aether quickly answers, not wanting either of them to attribute his tears to their treatment of him. “Just... I... this has been overwhelming. In a good way. I don't know why I'm—like this.”
“Perfect?” Kaeya supplies for him, and Aether wants to snort at the over-the-top compliment, blinking as sweaty tendrils of hair are brushed away from his forehead before Kaeya presses a kiss there, continuing with: “You did so well, you know. From start to finish.” He grins playfully, then. “And finish... and finish.”
Aether buries his face against Kaeya's shoulder, hiding the blush creeping along his cheeks. It figures that he'd be embarrassed now, after everything. “You've made a mess of me. In me.”
He really enjoys the feeling, even though that's a fluttering thought that stays within the confines of his mind instead of alighting upon his tongue.
“We sure have,” Kaeya agrees, sounding nothing short of boastful. “I do believe it's time for another bath, though, before we tuck you in. So sorry about that.”
“Funny how you don't sound sorry at all,” Aether quips, but he's smiling as he says it. Even if Kaeya can't feel the heat in Aether's cheeks, Aether knows he'll be able to feel the smile against his skin.
He's okay with that, too.
“For the record, I'm not sorry for that, either.” Diluc is smiling also, Aether can hear it in his voice.
He's carried back to the bath, and it comes as no surprise that the three of them are able to squeeze into it, though just barely. Aether is worn-out – fucked-out, hollowed-out – he is numb and insensate, and yet, he feels everything at once, and finds it's easier to simply let himself drift while Kaeya and Diluc clean him up. It's a struggle to keep his eyes open, between the sheer exhaustion and the warmth of the water, and their gentle hands on him. Aether is reminded of the fact that he had been tired before this had started; he had nearly fallen asleep in here earlier, and now is no different, except only maybe even worse.
At least there are two people with him to ensure his safety, or something like that. They'll keep him from drowning, at the very least.
(Well, they'll keep him from drowning in the literal sense of the word.)
Between slow, sleepy blinks, Aether watches as they lather soap on an already-damp cloth and scrub tenderly at his chest and abdomen, and then Kaeya is handing the cloth over to Diluc so that the redhead can do the same to Aether's shoulders, arms, and back.
“I can do that,” Aether quietly protests, even as he lifts his leaden arms so that Diluc can wash under them.
“We said that we would take care of you,” Kaeya replies, lightly pushing Aether back until he's resting against Diluc's chest, and then he takes the soapy cloth and starts to wash Aether's thighs. “This counts, too. Besides, sweet sunshine, you were the one complaining about the mess that we made of you. Consider this as 'Luc and I cleaning up our mess, hm? Just relax and enjoy.”
As usual, Kaeya has a fair point, and so Aether tips his head back, closing his eyes. “Careful—might get the idea that you're spoiling me.”
“And if we are?” Diluc asks, like it's a challenge. If it is, Aether doesn't really have an argument for him. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
“You've certainly spoiled us,” Kaeya says as his fingers brush against a particularly ticklish area of Aether's instep, causing Aether's foot to twitch. “It's fair for us to do the same, you know.”
Aether falls silent and remains that way for the rest of the bath, weakly crawling his way back up from slumber before he can sink fully into it. They don't even let him dry himself off, or get dressed, or stumble to bed on his own. They dry him off. They re-do his braid. Diluc carries him, naked, to the bedroom that they had been in, earlier. Aether hadn't paid much attention to the décor when they'd entered the room the first time, and he still doesn't, now, given that he can barely keep his eyes open.
“Tucking me in?” Aether asks as Diluc lowers him to the bed for the second time this evening. His question is sleepily slurred, and Kaeya laughs at it before slipping under the covers as well, scooting close to Aether until they are forehead-to-forehead.
“Something like that.” Kaeya kisses him softly. “Hope you don't mind.”
“It isn't fair,” Aether murmurs as Diluc turns the lamp off, and all at once, the room goes dark, and Aether is as good as blind as his eyes attempt to adjust. He feels Diluc slide into bed behind him, feels an arm drape itself over his side.
“What isn't?” Kaeya sounds equal parts confused and curious.
Aether can barely make sense of his own jumbled thoughts, which has really been one of the running themes of the night, and he's fairly certain that he won't be able to explain himself in a reasonably coherent manner, but he tries all the same: “What you said. Earlier. That it's fair to spoil me. It isn't if I get used to it and then it's gone.”
Behind him, Diluc laughs. The arm around him tightens, pulls him in closer. “You don't have to worry about us taking anything that we've given you away, Aether. What is given is yours.”
“There's a grand plan at work here,” Kaeya matter-of-factly informs. “We fully intend to ruin you for anyone else. That way, you're stuck with us.”
“You make it sound like Stockholm syndrome, you lunatic,” Diluc hisses.
Aether knows that Kaeya is joking. He knows that he shouldn't contribute to the conversation any further. He knows he should just keep his mouth shut, now, and go to sleep. He finds himself responding anyway: “I'm pretty sure you've already done that. Ruined me for anyone else, I mean.”
“All according to plan, then.” Kaeya's lips find his once more in the darkness—the kiss is sweet, and demands nothing. “Just don't wake up and forget why you're here with us in the first place, okay?”
“I won't forget,” Aether grumbles, knowing good-and-damn well that there's at least a fifty-fifty chance that he'll wake up in the morning thinking that he's had a fever-dream fueled by a little too much alcohol and way too many inappropriate thoughts (not that he'd admit to them).
“We'll be here to remind you if you do,” Diluc reassures, nuzzling at the back of Aether's neck. “Go to sleep, Aether.”
He feels them move, hears the soft sound of a shared kiss, above, and then they're settling back into place. Aether feels warm and safe, between them.
Warm, and safe, and--
Sleeping with them had been a bad idea. Falling asleep with them is no doubt going to prove to be an even worse idea.
He's here now, though, tucked between them, and there's honestly nowhere else he'd rather be.
“Goodnight,” he hears Kaeya whisper.
Aether is asleep before he can even reply.
~*~
The following morning, awareness trickles into his mind like syrup over a stack of pancakes, sticky-sweet and slow. The dream he'd had, while absolutely and utterly unexpected, hadn't been unpleasant by any means, and as Aether drifts towards wakefulness, he recalls bits and pieces of it—he remembers how two pairs of hands had touched him, how clever fingers had pushed into him, how he'd been held down and then held up, how deep voices had soothed and praised him, whispered absolute filth to him.
His whole body feels hot, and it has little to do with the morning sun streaming in through the window or the wine that he'd had last night, the former a pleasant warmth of an entirely different nature and the latter now long gone from his system.
It's only because he'd spent the evening drinking and talking with them, he tells himself. It's only because he'd ingested enough wine to give him weird dreams. It's only because Diluc had offered to let him stay the night here. It's only because Kaeya had been up to his usual teasing tricks.
It's definitely not because Aether has wanted--
He sighs aloud, mentally reprimanding himself and putting a stop to those thoughts, because it's useless and because he's just woken up, and then he becomes aware of something else entirely: his body feels sore—thighs, arms, neck, like his muscles have been overworked and like his skin is tender, bruised.
Following this revelation is another, the latter being that he is not alone. There's the sensation of arms draped around him, the presence of not one, but two bodies in bed with him.
He thinks of himself as a fairly clever individual, but in this moment, he is struck dumb, the cogs in his mind whirring with the sudden, jarring jumble of information that's just been shoved at him with an expectancy for him to simply sort and neatly file it all into a nice little box instead of just screaming in the middle of a chaos-riddled room.
Anxiety doesn't drip into the pit of his stomach gradually, like the runoff from freshly-melted snow. It hits him all at once with the full force of a blizzard, the white-out blinding him, leaving him dazed in its wake.
Panicked, he opens his eyes, his breath freezing in his lungs when he finds one periwinkle eye gazing back at him.
“Good morning,” Kaeya murmurs softly, like he's afraid of further startling an already-spooked animal.
“That... happened?” Aether finds himself blurting in question before he clamps his mouth shut and resists the urge to attempt to slither out from under the arms that are holding him, out from under the covers, and right out the door.
He's no coward, after all. He can stand and face the music.
(Or... he can lie here, face-to-face and back-to-chest with the men he slept with last night, and have a perfectly reasonable conversation with them.
He can do that... right?
Right.)
Kaeya's laughter is as gentle as his greeting and as bright as the morning sun. “Your memory is terrible, sunshine. That definitely happened. There's a witness behind you that can confirm it, if you require further convincing.”
The arms that are wrapped around Aether's middle tighten their hold minutely and Diluc gives a grunt in response, nuzzling at the back of Aether's neck as Aether continues to struggle to wrap his mind around the reality of all of this.
Just what has he done, here?
The grin that's plastered itself onto Kaeya's face fades into a look of concern when Aether remains frozen in place. Aether is uncertain of what expression, exactly, that he's wearing. He suspects that anxious disbelief is probably a fairly fitting descriptor.
“Are you having regrets now that it's happened?” Kaeya asks. “Did you... really not want us, after all?” There's a vulnerability there, in those questions, that Aether hadn't counted on. Kaeya is always surprising him, it seems.
“I told you that we should've gone about this all a different way,” Diluc says, reaching over to poke roughly at Kaeya's chest. “Your ideas and the way they're executed--”
“And good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” Kaeya interrupts, his tone feigned honey and deliberate provocation. “I certainly didn't hear anyone complaining last night, although now if there are actual regrets....” He lets the sentence trail off and he frowns, suddenly seemingly at a loss for words, which is quite out of character, for him. Aether has never known this man to be speechless, to not have a comeback, or a remark for any and every situation.
Aether feels his whole face burn as he rushes to explain, “I thought that had all been a dream, when I first woke up.” He brings his hands to his red cheeks and then moves them higher so that he's covering his eyes, as though he can actually shield himself from Kaeya's intense gaze, this way. “I'm not saying I... regret anything. It's just a lot to take in... at once?”
These two are a lot, at once, period.
“So... you did want us, then?” Kaeya prods, and even though Aether feels that his behavior last night should be enough of an answer to that, he realizes that Kaeya is not going to let the subject slide without an actual verbal response, this morning.
Behind him, Diluc is quiet, but there's a slight change in his breathing, in the way he relaxes his hold on Aether, in the way his thumb brushes in circles over Aether's skin, and Aether isn't sure which of them the gesture is meant to comfort.
Diluc needs the contact, he realizes, in that moment. He needs grounding physicality when he feels uncertain.
And Kaeya needs the words.
Aether is not the only vulnerable one here, in this bed. This knowledge simultaneously eases his mind and makes his heart beat faster—it jack-rabbits in his chest and he gulps in air like he's about to plunge into the sea. There's the whooshing of his pulse in his ears as he shakily mumbles: “Before last night, I had never wanted something so much. I have never wanted... someone... so much. And to want two? And for both of you to be so... like this, after? It's a lot.”
He feels the both of them relax; sighs of relief aren't audible, but Aether feels like they're there, all the same.
“There's time to figure it out,” Diluc offers. His thumb is still brushing over Aether's skin. He repeats the motion again and again. It is equal parts reassuring and distracting.
“There is,” Kaeya agrees, reaching out to stroke Aether's cheek with the tip of a finger. It's fleeting, like he worries that too much contact will scare Aether away, after everything.
It's quite apparent that Diluc does not share this particular worry in regards to touch.
Aether realizes that they're telling him that they have time, the three of them. He realizes that they're telling him that this can be worked out, and even though their reassurance is hopeful, he chooses to focus on another thing entirely (at least, for now): “You're telling me that everything last night was all a set-up? To have me be with the two of you?”
He peeks at Kaeya from between his fingers. Kaeya just offers him a Cheshire cat grin, and doesn't look the least bit apologetic or remorseful, now that Aether has apparently settled his worries over just what had occurred between all of them the night before. “It all came together quite beautifully, if you ask me.”
“Nobody's asked you,” Diluc points out, and then he is on the receiving end of that wicked smile of Kaeya's.
“Don't act as though you didn't love every second of that build-up,” Kaeya says; his voice has dropped low, and it makes Aether want to shiver. Behind him, Diluc does. “Everything I did to you, before Aether came back in the room. Everything he watched me do to you, after. Everything that happened, once he joined us.”
Now, apparently, it is Diluc's turn to go all quiet, cat-got-his-tongue.
Aether's pretty certain that the temperature in the room has just increased, and yet again, that the sun outside the window is not the culprit.
“You could have just asked me,” he says quietly, “instead of concocting some elaborate scheme.”
He says this like Kaeya's modus operandii isn't elaborate schemes, and he suddenly remembers Kaeya telling him (while he was half-asleep, no less) something about a grand plan.
Aether also remembers basically admitting that the desired result in regards to said 'grand plan' had already been achieved, and he wants to bury himself under the floorboards. Apparently, in Aether's case, endorphins and exhaustion make for a far more effective truth serum than alcohol, alone.
“That's how he is,” Diluc (who has now found his voice, if only for a snide remark) helpfully supplies. “He's always convoluted and inefficient.” His tone is as dismissive and derisive as it gets, if you ignore the fondness just there, at the edges of the words.
“I'd say that the mess I helped to make of you both last night proves how efficient I actually am,” Kaeya argues, raising an eyebrow. “You know I'm happy to repeat a performance as many times as necessary, 'Luc, until you're convinced.”
Aether wants to tell them to stop arguing, but he's pretty certain at this point that all of this is just flirting and foreplay for them. Plus, he's still between them, and he's not certain if that offer extends to himself as well.
Then again, doesn't repeat performance imply Aether's presence?
It's another thing to tuck away and think about later. Maybe.
Then again... this whole thing... can't be a good idea, even if it's something that's wanted, can it?
Nah. It's a bad idea.
Aether covers his eyes fully once more and rubs at them. He uncovers them when he feels lips against his own, soft and sure, but demanding nothing. They're Kaeya's. He rolls over partially and watches in stunned silence, then, as Kaeya leans down and kisses Diluc, too. Diluc accepts the motion without protest or complaint, ruby eyes falling shut as Kaeya's lips linger.
“Good Morning,” Kaeya says again when he parts from Diluc, and Diluc makes a small sound in his throat in reply before both of them look to Aether.
“...What?” Aether eventually asks, suddenly feeling like a trapped thing between them.
(It wouldn't be the first time. He knows, knows now, that it won't be the last.)
“Stay a little longer? I'll make breakfast.” Kaeya presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Aether's lips.
“You don't have to if you don't want to,” Diluc tells him, like he's giving Aether an out, even while his hands don't let go of him. “We'd like for you to stay. But it's up to you.”
The room falls quiet and Aether hears himself swallow. He could leave, right now, in a respectful and dignified manner.
Staying... is a bad idea.
He could go—pretend to blame last night on a little too much wine and way too much lust. He could leave this bedroom, this guest house, the winery, and take the memory of last night with him, let his body burn with it on the nights that he wishes he would've said yes.
Because that's all this should be, right? A one-off that shouldn't have been, to begin with. Fuel for a fire that he tends to in the future, solo.
He could leave, because staying and encouraging anything further would be a terrible, horrible, atrocious, ridiculously bad idea.
Aether reaches for both of them, pulls them in as close to himself as he possibly can. He breathes them in and he finally allows himself to fully relax against them.
“Breakfast sounds good,” he tells them.
Bad idea or no, Aether's all in.