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This is it. There’s no way that Thoma can deny him after this.
Ayato prepared honey imported from Mondstadt, especially for tonight. As far as he knows, it’s the same kind of honey that famous restaurants in Mondstadt use for their sticky honey roast. As he pours the honey onto his naked body, the sweet scent fills his nostrils. The thick consistency of the honey makes it a little difficult to spread it over himself evenly, but well, if it goes well it shouldn’t matter too much.
He pushes the honey down his body so it trails to his lower stomach. Then, he brings his finger to his mouth and licks the tips.
Perfect.
Perhaps his advances towards Thoma so far had been too subtle. But surely appearing stark naked and slathered in the honey of Thoma’s homeland is as obvious as it gets.
“Waka!”
Ah, here he is. Ayato is suddenly too aware of where his limbs are. How should he pose? What’s the sexiest way to do this?
In the end, he chooses to kneel, his legs parted ever so coyly. One of his hands presses again his honey-slick stomach, pointing to the thick liquid slowly trickling down to his cock. His other hand is against his chest.
Ayato knows he’s beautiful, and this should highlight the lines of his body.
He’s ready when the door slides open to reveal Thoma.
“Hello,” Ayato says as he licks his lips.
Thoma’s eyes go wide, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly. He looks up and down Ayato’s body. Does he like what he sees? Is this something he’s into, after all?
“Waka,” his voice is low, almost dangerous. Yes, yes, Ayato got this. Thoma walks closer to Ayato, and Ayato feels his heart pounding in his chest.
“Thoma,” he calls out sweetly.
“You’re,” Thoma starts, his voice low. “How many times should I tell you not to waste food?”
What?
“Thoma, this is,” Ayato starts, but he finds himself failing to find the words.
“Seriously, waka,” Thoma sighs, shaking his head. He picks up a washcloth that he has hanging on his belt. He brings it over to Ayato’s body, wiping the honey off with gentle movements. “This honey must be expensive.”
“It’s from Mondstadt,” Ayato says weakly.
“From Mondstadt!” Thoma exclaims. “Next time, you should let me make a sticky honey roast with it instead.”
How did this fail? How dense can Thoma be?
Ayato simply sighs as Thoma cleans him up, trying to think of another way to seduce the man in front of him.
“And so, he cleaned me up and wrapped me in a blanket,” Ayato sighs. “He used the rest of the honey to make a sticky honey roast.”
There’s only one person he can tell all his woes to. At least, when it comes to Thoma. His woes about governance? He can tell his officials and his allies even if he’d hide it from Ayaka. But his woes about Thoma? Only Ayaka could ever know.
Right now, his younger sister is sipping her tea gracefully. He spared her the details, such as him dribbling honey down to his cock. But she knows enough yet she remains calm enough to listen.
“I don’t understand, oniisama,” she says as she places the cup of tea down. “Why don’t you just ask Thoma out normally?”
“I did ask him out on a date,” Ayato points out.
“You did?” Ayaka tilts her head to the side.
“He thought it was a shopping trip for the upcoming party,” Ayato shakes his head. “It went nowhere.”
“I see,” Ayaka murmurs. She tries to sound sympathetic, but Ayato knows he must seem silly in her eyes. Most likely, she’d prefer him telling her about his issues with the Shumatsuban than his issues with trying to pour honey over his body to seduce Thoma. Still, she remains here, the ever-patient sister.
“I don’t think asking him normally will work,” Ayato murmurs. “Hm, if the bed doesn’t work, maybe I should try the bath?”
“I’m not sure how to help you with this, oniisama,” Ayaka sighs. “I still think straightforward is the answer.”
No, Thoma is a master of deflection, a master of denial.
He has to make it abundantly clear.
Using his body, placing his heart on his sleeves.
Or when it comes to what he has in mind, perhaps placing it on his wrist.
“Thoma, can I come in?”
He slides the door open, the steam from the bathroom spilling out. Perhaps owing to his pyro vision, Thoma has always been a fan of hot baths. He turns to Ayato with a bright smile.
“Waka!’ he says. He doesn’t seem flustered at all by Ayato joining him in the bath, which Ayato doesn’t know how to read. Perhaps he’s read a little too many light novels during the preparation for Irodori Festival, seeing the male lead get all flustered over their love interest finding them in the bath. In fact, such a light novel is his inspiration for this new act of seduction.
But instead, Thoma looks at him, the flush on his face only coming from the hot bath.
“Hi,” Ayato tries to reinforce his presence to Thoma.
It doesn’t work.
“What are you doing here, waka?” Thoma asks amicably.
Trying to seduce you, Ayato thinks. But of course, he does not say that. He simply smiles as he steps inside the bathroom. He unties the towel around his waist as seductively as he can, letting the white cloth sweep over his thighs.
But Thoma doesn’t pay mind to it.
Or perhaps, Thoma can’t quite see it. After all, this room is filled with white steam.
Okay, more forward. The day is not over and he can do this.
“How about I wash your back, Thoma?” he says as he leans down, coyly pressing his fingers against Thoma’s shoulder.
“Isn’t that my job as your retainer?” Thoma laughs as he turns back. “Come on, I’ll wash your back, waka.”
“Please,” Ayato says, running his hand down Thoma’s arm. Is this working? He hopes it’s working. “Let me do this for you.”
“Well,” Thoma murmurs. “If you insist.”
Ayato eyes the washcloth on the side. But he’s not going to be using that. Instead, he rubs the soap against his hand, letting it lather on his skin. Then, he brings his hand over to Thoma’s wet back.
With that, he moves. His fingers are elegant, trained by swordsmanship and dancing. So, he knows how to use them well and he uses them to tease and work Thoma’s skin.
“You’re so tense,” Ayato says as he presses his fingers against a knot on Thoma’s back. “Can I do something to relieve you?”
“Mm,” Thoma hums. “Perhaps there’s one thing.”
“Oh?” Ayato says, pressing his hands against Thoma’s waist.
Thoma’s whole body is so exquisite. His form is so perfect under Ayato’s hands. He rubs his thumbs against the base of Thoma’s back, trying to make it seem as sensual as possible. What is it that Thoma could want?
Whatever it is, Ayato’s head feels light. Perhaps it’s the arousal from Thoma’s skin under his hands. Perhaps it’s the sight of Thoma’s wide back. But he has never felt this dizzy before.
“Maybe you could stop spilling your food and drinks over your clothes,” Thoma points out. “Seriously, waka, I’ll prepare you a bag so stop putting them in your sleeves.”
“Oh,” he exclaims softly, his own voice sounding weak. His hands also feel unsteady against Thoma. Is this what arousal is like? A fever is rushing through his body, his whole form feeling like it could collapse at any time? He manages another weak sound: “oh.”
“Waka?” Thoma turns to him.
Why does Thoma have four eyes? Why does Thoma have two heads? Why is Thoma all blurry in front of him?
“Waka!” Thoma raises his voice, rising from his seat in panic.
Ayato wants to laugh, he wants to tell Thoma to hold it together. After all, he’s just washing Thoma’s back.
And trying to flirt. But well. That doesn’t seem to go very well.
He just has to keep trying, right?
“I’m,” he wants to say he’s fine. He wants to tell Thoma to sit down and let him handle this. But the words don’t leave his throat.
All at once, the world spins.
Ayato realizes belatedly that the heat is getting to his head as he falls forward, Thoma’s arms around him being the last thing he feels before his consciousness fades away.
When Ayato comes to again, he sees the ceiling right in front of his eyes. There’s no more steam, no more water under his body. He’s still feverish, a heat running under his skin. But he’s comfortable. A freshly washed jinbei wrapping his body, a soft blanket is over him, a pillow under his head, the gentle scent of incense filling the room.
He can’t quite piece together where he is right away. Then, as his mind puts itself together, he realizes that he’s in his own room.
“Waka!”
Ah, that voice.
Although his sight is still bleary, Ayato sees that someone is looking over him. Someone with beautiful green eyes and his lips slightly parted.
“Thoma?” he murmurs.
“Waka,” Thoma sounds relieved. “I’m glad you’re okay!”
He better be okay. He doesn’t want to survive several assassination attempts and several sword fights to collapse from the steam in a bathroom. Except, that’s exactly it. He collapsed from the steam in a bathroom.
And the fact that he is here right now must mean that Thoma carried him back.
“I should be washing your back,” Ayato says weakly.
“That again,” Thoma smiles. And ah, what a bright smile it is. “Don’t worry about that, waka. More importantly, can you sit up?”
Thoma is so close. What would happen if Ayato sits up right there and now?
But he realizes his mind simply wanders. Thoma helps him, hoisting him up in strong, gentle arms.
“There we go,” Thoma says, patting Ayato’s back. Now that Ayato is sitting up, his sight is clear. He can see Thoma’s handsome face as his crush fusses over him for something that should be shameful.
Yet as Thoma prepares a cup of water, there’s only one thing in Ayato’s mind.
His voice quiet, his words spilling:
“I like you,” he says.
Yes, he likes Thoma. He likes Thoma who is taking care of him. He likes Thoma who remains by his side, ever loyal and ever kind. He even likes Thoma who’s just that little bit oblivious.
His words are so simple, yet they are firm.
His true feelings, finally slipping past his tongue and onto the air.
“Waka,” Thoma murmurs. Then, he smiles even brighter. “I like you too.”
“Thoma,” Ayato says.
Could it be that easy?
“After all, you’re my lord!” Thoma says brightly.
Ah, yes. It can’t be that easy.
As Thoma brings a cup of water to Ayato’s lips, Ayato realizes that he doesn’t know how to show Thoma his heart.
He doesn’t know how to make Thoma see him as something other than his lord, other than his friend.
To see him as worthy of a warm kiss. A gentle embrace meant just for him.
Still, he does not chase Thoma out of the room. He does not shake Thoma’s body to force him to truly see him as the love-struck man he really is.
He simply lets Thoma take care of him, sinking in his kindness.
Seemingly infinite, even if not the love Ayato seeks.
But that simply leaves Ayato more determined than ever.
He likes Thoma. This is an undeniable fact. Now, it’s just to get Thoma to see this.
After some reflection, Ayato concluded that there might be some cultural differences between him and Thoma. Thoma has been in Inazuma for a long time, yes, but he came from Mondstatd. Perhaps some Mondstatd assumptions are different from Inazuma's.
The approaches Ayato has taken so far are inspired by the likes of light novels. In the light novels, his actions would make it abundantly clear that he’s into Thoma. But what’s obvious to Inazumans, or at least, Inazumans who read light novels, might not be so for someone who spent his formative years in Mondstadt.
So, Ayato decided to approach this Mondstadt-style.
Mondstadt is the land of bards. And bards, in particular, are adept at love songs.
Now, Ayato has been planning to have bards come over for the upcoming Irodori Festival. And perhaps, he could wait until then to get the bards of Mondstadt to perform a love song for Thoma in his stead. But he can’t wait.
It’s a slight abuse of power, maybe, but within a week, the bards he needs are now here at Ritou.
Now, the setting is almost perfect. The small hall where the bards will perform is simple, but Ayato lights candles all around it. He heard from one of the bards that candles are seen as particularly romantic in Mondstatd. Flowers too, but he’s not sure if dendrobium could replace the traditional Mondstadt cecilias in this instance, so he stuck with candles.
Rather excessive candles, perhaps, but oh well. If it signifies romance in Mondstatd, they can’t have too much of a good thing, right?
“Lord Kamisato,” a bard bows her head. “We’re ready.”
“Perfect,” Ayato smiles. “Start the music as soon as he enters.”
Ayato booked the halls all for his personal use this time. He told Thoma to come over as he needs help with a few things. Thoma, ever loyal, did not question what those few things might be, even though Ayato prepared lies in case he did.
Just as the clock strikes seven, the door opens.
All at once, the bards play their music. An upbeat melody, a traditional Mondstadt love song.
Thoma’s eyes grow wide.
“Waka,” he murmurs. “What’s this?”
“Come now, Thoma,” Ayato lets out a composed laugh. Composed, despite his heart racing in excitement. “Dance with me.”
Thoma takes Ayato’s hand as they move into the room, their bodies matching each other’s beat perfectly. Being so close to Thoma, Ayato can feel how warm Thoma’s body is. He can feel how firm Thoma’s hands are, one under his own and the other placed perfectly on his waist.
With his face illuminated by the candle, Thoma’s features are accentuated. Flickering, steady, with green eyes reflecting Ayato and Ayato alone.
They dance to the music. Quietly, their heartbeats doing all the talking for them. There’s no place for words right now. Only music from a distant land and pulses from the core of their souls.
As the music reaches its crescendo, they are drawn to one another. They look at each other like they are the entire world.
For Ayato, at least, Thoma is his entire world at that moment.
He leans close, daring himself to take Thoma’s lips. His heartbeat is thumping in his chest, his body hot and feverish.
“Um,” Thoma suddenly pushes Ayato away by the shoulders. “Waka.”
Why? Why is he denying him?
“Waka, you’re on fire!” Thoma exclaims.
“Yes,” Ayato huffs. “For you.”
“No, this isn’t me,” Thoma shakes his head wildly. “You’re really on fire!”
Ayato gasps, and only then does he realize that Thoma means it literally. His long sleeve brushed over a lit candle and is now burning, running up the quality fabric to sear white into black.
The music stops playing, and he and Thoma stop dancing.
And as Thoma rushes to get some water to put out the fire, Ayato sighs.
He wouldn’t mind burning if they could at least finish that kiss.
But if there is a next time, he knows to take it easy on the candles.
“You’re lucky, Taroumaru,” Ayato slumps on the counter of Komore Teahouse. “Thoma already loves you.”
What is Taroumaru supposed to say to that? Nothing. That’s why he only woofs.
The Mondstadt bards plan went so well until he caught fire. And now, what is he supposed to do next? He can’t repeat the same plan. Besides, it’ll just remind Thoma about how he caught fire.
Maybe a bouquet of flowers from Mondstadt next?
He rests his chin against the counter, staring at Taroumaru’s fluffy paws.
“Let’s switch places,” he says. “You deal with the officials, I get Thoma’s love.”
Again, Taroumaru simply woofs.
But then, there’s another sound.
Music? No. There’s no violin, there’s no shamisen. Just a voice, strung together into an awkward song.
Ayaka isn’t in today. She has some festival duties to attend to.
Which means.
Ayato stands up. He follows the sound of the singing until he gets to one of the rooms at the back. The tables, the cushions -- they’ve all been put away, revealing a spacious room.
Of course, there are also no candles. Which is probably for the best.
In the center of the room is Thoma, continuing his song. It’s such a simple song, yet from the words, Ayato can tell that it is a love song.
“Thoma,” he murmurs.
And with that, Thoma turns around. He grins right at Ayato, extending his hand.
“Waka,” Thoma says. “Would you like to dance?”
Ayato bites down on his lower lip. Still, he moves closer to Thoma. He takes Thoma’s hand and sighs.
“Silly,” he says. “What would happen if I caught on fire again?”
“I’ll be careful,” Thoma laughs as if the fire was his fault instead of Ayato’s.
But it almost could be here. It’s Thoma’s body which is warm. Hot even. And as he leads Ayato in an awkward slow dance, Ayato can feel Thoma’s racing pulse under his touch.
Today, it’s Thoma. And then.
Ayato looks at Thoma.
He’s truly Thoma’s whole world right now, reflected in those bright green eyes. With a smile, Thoma leans in.
His breath, brushing against Ayato’s skin. His heat, even closer now.
And then, a kiss.
A gentle press of lips, so different from anything Ayato has ever known. So different from everything he has ever imagined.
“Sorry, waka,” Thoma says in a low voice. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
Ayato wishes Thoma had done that sooner, then.
Before he made a fool of himself. Before he poured honey on his body, passed out in the bath, and set himself on fire.
But at least they’re here now.
“Thoma,” he says. “Kiss me again.”
And when Thoma complies, Ayato knows that his truth is now absolute.
It is now theirs, entirely in love.