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Ajax buries his face in his pillow, squishes his nose painfully into the dense foam. His breath is hot against the pillow’s surface, and he gets a mouthful of pillowcase when he breathes in. If he had the energy, he would scream—in frustration, bitterness, or a similar flavor—but at the moment he feels exhausted. Worn out, worn down.
The ache in his chest pulses with the beat of his heart, echoes in the emptiness. He could fill that space with tears, but that also sounds like effort.
It’s already past noon, and Ajax has done nothing but laze about in bed. Or more accurately malaise about. Can malaise be a verb? Zhongli would know.
Zhongli would surely have a lot to say about Ajax’s current condition. Which is exactly why Ajax has been ignoring all of his friend’s texts. He doesn’t want to face Zhongli’s judgment, his disappointment.
No, Ajax wants love and affection and care. And he can’t ask Zhongli for that. He won’t beg for something he’d rather Zhongli give freely. Except—
Ajax’s fingers twitch. He reaches blindly for his phone, and his arm knocks against the glass on his bedside table. The glass thunks loudly against the wood, rattles as it rolls. If it hadn’t already been empty, it would certainly be empty now.
His phone refuses to recognize the visible half of his face. His thumb fumbles the passcode. It must be a sign. He shouldn’t be relying on Zhongli anyway. He shouldn’t—
Zhongli’s name pops up on the screen a split second before the phone vibrates in Ajax’s hand. The content of the message is hidden, but the proof is undeniable: at this very moment, Zhongli is thinking about him.
His stomach fills with enough butterfly wing flaps to start a typhoon of cataclysmic proportions on the other side of the world. Never mind the storm brewing right here.
Ajax swallows, sucks in a ragged breath. He wants to see Zhongli. He wants Zhongli to take care of him in the way that only he can. He wants—
There’s a knock at the front door.
Could it be…? But no, he shouldn’t get his hopes up. It’s probably a package. Or an ax murderer. Though packages don’t have hands, and ax murderers are rarely so polite.
Ajax waits, listens.
The door rattles and clicks open. “Ajax?” Zhongli’s voice echoes in the stillness.
Oh. Zhongli. It’s really him. Or possibly a horror that’s stolen his voice. And the spare key Ajax lent him. Hmm. Could be.
Ajax perks up, but he’s not quite ready to leave the warm comfort of his bed, to escape the loving embrace of his blankets. He watches the open bedroom door as footsteps sound in the hallway.
Zhongli knocks on the door frame before entering. “Ajax,” he says. “You weren’t answering your messages.”
“Wasn’t checking them,” Ajax lies. His phone is incriminatingly in his hand, and he wilts under Zhongli’s knowing gaze. “Felt like shit.”
“You could have told me that when I texted you.”
“But then you would’ve come over.” Ajax caves in on himself, shrivels into a ball. “Didn’t want you to see me being pathetic.”
Zhongli stares at him stoically. “Well, I am here now, seeing your patheticness.”
What does Ajax see in this asshole anyway? But of course, Zhongli is here, checking up on him when no one else has even asked if anything’s wrong. Zhongli is here, looking at him with worry softening the hardened lines of his face.
Still, Ajax pouts. “Like you’re one to talk,” he grouses. “Like you never have bad days.”
“Comparing suffering isn’t helpful, Ajax.” Zhongli grabs the toppled glass from Ajax’s bedside table. “I’ll get you some water.”
When Zhongli returns, Ajax hasn’t moved an inch.
Zhongli huffs. “Sit up,” he says. When Ajax complies, he presses a glass of water into his hands. “Drink.”
Ajax takes a small sip. The water is cool and crisp on his parched tongue, and after a moment, he drains the whole glass.
“Good,” Zhongli says. He tugs the glass from Ajax’s grip and sets it aside. “You need to take better care of yourself, Ajax.”
“I know.” Ajax hunches forward, draws his shoulders in. “It’s hard.”
“It can be.” Zhongli perches on the edge of the bed. He cards a hand through Ajax’s hair. “But you’ll make an effort, won’t you? For me?” Ajax’s locks slip through his fingers. “You’ll be good for me?”
Ajax’s insides squirm. It’s hard to resist when Zhongli pushes Ajax’s buttons so effectively. “I…I can try.”
“You can do better than try, Ajax.” He fixes him with a look. “If I tell you what to do, you’ll do it.”
“Yes,” Ajax says at once.
Zhongli hums. “That is what you want, isn’t it, Ajax? You want me to tell you what to do?”
Ajax’s chest tightens, and his stomach twists in on itself. He does want that. Badly. He nods until he makes himself dizzy.
“Easy there, sweet thing,” Zhongli says. He steadies Ajax’s head with a hand against his jaw. One of his fingers draws a circle against the sensitive skin beneath Ajax’s ear. “What do we say when we ask for something?”
“Please,” Ajax says. In an instant, his thoughts are pushed aside and replaced by the familiar buzz of static. “Please, daddy. Tell me what to do.”
Zhongli’s nostrils flare, and he inhales audibly. He removes his hand from Ajax’s face. He stands, crooks a finger for Ajax to follow. “Up,” he says.
Ajax nearly falls out of bed in his impatience to comply. He manages to get his feet under himself and scrambles to stand before Zhongli.
“See, you can get out of bed,” Zhongli says. “So very capable. You just need the right motivation.”
Zhongli’s eyes scan up and down his body, and Ajax tugs at his shorts, suddenly self-conscious of his exposed thighs. Even worse, he’s wearing the shitty “gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss” t-shirt Rosalyne gave him for his birthday a couple years back.
“Now what should I have you do?” Zhongli muses. “Put in a load of wash? Make yourself a decent meal?”
Ajax shifts his weight from foot to foot. This isn’t new territory; he and Zhongli have played this game before. If Ajax is good, Zhongli will certainly give them both what they want.
“How long has it been since you vacuumed?” Zhongli asks.
“A couple days,” Ajax answers. “A week?”
Zhongli tuts. “Don’t let your cleaning get away from you.”
“I won’t,” Ajax says quickly. “I’ll be good.”
“Will you?”
“Yes,” Ajax insists. “Please, I will.”
Zhongli studies him for a moment. “All right,” he says. “Kneel.”
Ajax drops to his knees perhaps too aggressively, and the shock judders up his legs. As he settles back on his heels, his line of sight falls to the noticeable tent in Zhongli’s slacks. Apparently, Zhongli is just as excited by the situation as Ajax is. The cynical part of Ajax’s brain wonders if this was Zhongli’s intention in coming over all along, but he’s not going to complain.
Zhongli tousles Ajax’s hair. “See what you do to me, sweet thing?” His hand slides to the back of Ajax’s head and guides him forward until his nose bumps into Zhongli’s groin. He angles Ajax’s face so that his cheek rubs against his clothed length. “You feel it, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Ajax gasps. Zhongli is warm against him, hard and wanting.
Zhongli tugs him back by the hair, meets his gaze. “Will you let me use your mouth, darling boy?”
“Fuck yes,” Ajax says at once. “Please, daddy.”
“Excellent.” Zhongli releases his grip. His fingers work at his fly, undo the zipper and carefully extricate his cock. “Hands behind your back, sweet thing. No touching.” He smirks down at Ajax. “Perfect. Mouth open. Show daddy your tongue.”
Ajax swallows. He opens up and lets his tongue loll out, waits obediently.
“Lovely,” Zhongli says. He rubs his cock against Ajax’s lips, lets it slap against his tongue. “Be a good boy now and let me use you.”
Ajax moans unrestrainedly. He opens wider, whines as Zhongli’s hand grips his chin.
“So perfect.” Zhongli slips his cock into Ajax’s waiting mouth. “Just focus on me, sweet thing. Use those pretty lips of yours.”
Ajax closes gingerly around Zhongli’s cock, reacquaints himself with his girth.
Zhongli is gentle at first. He eases in and out of Ajax’s mouth, cock sliding between Ajax’s sensitive lips. The thick head drags pleasantly against Ajax’s plush bottom lip, and each pass makes him shiver.
“That’s it,” Zhongli says. “You’re doing so well.” Slowly, he slides in further. The open zipper of his slacks nudges against Ajax’s mouth, cold and metallic against his heated lips. “You could take me deeper, couldn’t you?”
Ajax hums in agreement, eager and desperate for more.
Zhongli chuckles. “Easy, darling. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” He angles his hips, crushes Ajax’s face against him. “I’m already filling you up so nicely. Rubbing over that cute, little tongue. Teasing your tight throat.” He tugs at Ajax’s hair. “You’re so good for me, sweet thing.”
The praise wraps around him, soft and encouraging. Ajax relaxes into it, lets his mind unravel. Nothing matters beyond Zhongli’s cock in his mouth, the intoxicating scent of Zhongli’s musk in his nose, the pressure of Zhongli’s fingers against his skull.
Zhongli threads both hands into Ajax’s hair, holds him steady. “I’m going to fuck your face,” he says bluntly. “If it’s too much, tap out, all right?”
Ajax gurgles in acknowledgment, but he won’t tap out. His hands are too busy behind his back, gripping one another with intention. His nails dig into his knuckles, distracting pinpricks of sensation. He’s still thinking too much. If he could just lose himself—
Zhongli thrusts roughly into the depths of his mouth. His cock stretches Ajax’s throat open, chokes him. For a moment, Ajax panics. His body protests, rebels against the unnatural feeling. His shoulders shake, and his arms tug against their sockets as he clasps his hands more firmly together.
“You’re doing so well, darling,” Zhongli purrs. “So good and sweet for me.”
Ajax’s head grows fuzzy, fills with fluff and nothingness. His body gives up the fight and just takes. It feels right like this—like he has a purpose, a use.
“Look at me,” Zhongli instructs. “Let me see you, sweet thing.”
Ajax stares up at him, his sight blurred with tears. His throat burns, and drool drips down his chin and onto his chest. He’s a disgusting mess. And yet, Zhongli’s eyes burn with lust. For him.
Suddenly, Zhongli withdraws. Ajax whines, distressed at the hollow, empty feeling in his throat even as his lungs beg for air. He gasps for breath, waits for Zhongli’s next move.
“Gorgeous,” Zhongli says. He grips Ajax’s face with one hand, uses the other to stroke himself until he’s coming over Ajax’s lips and cheeks.
Spend oozes down Ajax’s skin, drips into his open mouth. It joins the saliva pooled on his tongue and slides down into his waiting throat, but he won’t swallow. Not until Zhongli gives the word.
“You sweet, obedient thing.” Zhongli rubs his softening cock against Ajax, smears come and saliva across his face. “You can swallow.”
Ajax’s throat complains bitterly. He coughs, but it does little to soothe the itch.
“Almost done,” Zhongli says. He offers up his cock once more. “Clean me up, sweet thing.”
Ajax laps at the head, suckles gently around him.
Zhongli groans. “Good boy.” He draws back, tucks himself away. “Your turn now,” he says. “Anything on your face belongs in your mouth. Go on. You can use your hands.”
Ajax nods. He unclasps his fingers and raises a leaden arm. He swipes at the mess on his face as best he can, then sucks his fingers clean, licks at the spaces between.
“Very good.” Zhongli pets gently over the crown of Ajax’s head. “You’ve earned a reward, my dear.” He settles on the edge of the bed and proffers one leg. “I’ll allow you to get yourself off,” he says.
“Thank you, daddy,” Ajax croaks. His throat is sore, his voice hoarse.
Ajax shuffles forward, presses his dick against Zhongli’s calf. Oh god, he’s almost ready to burst. Had Zhongli’s cock in his throat really worked him up that much?
“Don’t be shy now,” Zhongli encourages. “Take your reward, sweet thing.”
Ajax bucks against him. The fabric of his shorts drags against him, sticks to the mess of precome leaking from his cock. He wraps an arm around Zhongli’s leg, braces himself as he ruts pathetically against him.
“Daddy,” he moans. “Fuck.”
“Such a foul mouth for a sweet boy like you.” Zhongli cups his chin, tilts his face up. “My good, sweet, darling boy.”
Ajax whines, rubs himself against Zhongli’s leg like an overeager dog. The vigorous movement rucks his shorts up until his cock slips out one leg hole. The starched fabric of Zhongli’s slacks is rough against him, but he does not let up. He’s so close. Oh god. Oh fuck.
“That’s it, sweet thing.” Zhongli’s grip is still firm around his jaw. Controlling. “Come for me.”
Ajax’s muscles seize, and he cries out unintelligibly. He keeps his eyes trained on Zhongli’s face as he humps his way through an embarrassingly good orgasm.
At last, he shudders weakly, sighs in satisfaction.
Zhongli releases him and nudges him back. He tuts as he examines his slacks. Ajax’s come is bright against the dark fabric, and there are conspicuous wet patches.
“Oh, now that won’t do,” Zhongli says. He tugs at his pant leg. “Clean up your mess, sweet thing.”
Ajax leans in and licks up the worst of it, leaves darkened streaks of damp fabric in his wake. He sucks the material into his mouth and attempts to extract any remnants of come, but his efforts are sloppy, and it’s difficult to tell if he’s making progress.
“That’s enough,” Zhongli says finally. “You’ve done very well.” He plays with Ajax’s hair, scratches at his scalp. “You’re such a good boy, Ajax.”
Ajax stares up at him. “Am I?” he asks. His voice cracks, and he feels the tears pooling. “Am I really?”
Zhongli nods. “Yes, you are,” he assures. “Come here.”
He helps Ajax to his feet, hugs him tightly to his chest. His arms are strong and sure, and Ajax melts against him.
“Sweet boy,” Zhongli says. “You are good and sweet and precious.” His hold tightens. “Aren’t you?”
Ajax’s heart aches from holding in all his emotions. “I…I am,” he says. His shoulders quake as he inhales. He’s fragile, his insides cracked and on the verge of breaking.
“Would you like to lie down?” Zhongli asks softly.
After Ajax nods, Zhongli scoots onto the bed and stretches out, helps Ajax settle in beside him and tucks the blankets around them both. It’s warm and soft and comfortable. Zhongli pulls him close and wraps an arm around Ajax’s middle. Cozy and snug.
Zhongli’s lips land solidly against his forehead. Sweet. Tender. Loving. “You are worthy and deserving of good things.” His affection enfolds Ajax like a second, more intimate hug layered beneath the first. “I want good things for you. You know that, don’t you?”
“I do,” Ajax says. He breathes deeply, centers himself. “Thank you, daddy.”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Zhongli says. “I’m only stating the truth.”
“Okay,” Ajax says. “But thank you anyway. And sorry I’m so fucked up.”
“You’re not fucked up.”
“Sorry if I don’t trust that take coming from the guy who just facefucked me out of a depressive funk.”
Zhongli cringes. “Ah, I probably shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, you absolutely should have.” Ajax pinches Zhongli’s side under the blankets. “I appreciated it.” He tucks his head against Zhongli’s shoulder to hide his emotions. “It was good.”
“That’s…that’s good,” Zhongli says.
Silence falls between them, but it’s a gentle, intimate kind of silence. Ajax would break it with I love you if it wouldn’t hurt so much not to hear it in return. Instead, he cuddles closer. He inhales Zhongli’s scent, revels in the soft press of their bodies. His chest aches from dreams that may never come true, but in the here and now, he is happy.
He’ll take what he can get.