Chapter Text
This is how the day began:
When Kaveh woke up in the morning, he was exceptionally eager to use a new blend of coffee beans he purchased from Fontaine. The girl from Komaniya Express dropped them off the night before. He'd taken the beans out of the box and set them on the kitchen counter for use after he slept, and he'd practically dreamt of his morning coffee ritual with his fancy coffee from Fontaine. The beans had a pleasant weight and heft; the scent was rich and invigorating; the branding and typography arranged on the bag was aesthetically pleasing and spoke of good taste on part of the grower.
It felt like the promise of a good day. He ground the beans, and he did his pour-over, and he felt good about the morning. He was confident that he was going to have a good day.
Alhaitham came shuffling out of his room the way he always did — thirty minutes after he was roused by the sound of the grinder, lazily scratching his toned stomach where his waistband sat through the night, and trying in vain to pull his messy bedhead into something vaguely resembling presentable. As usual, he didn't even say good morning or hello to Kaveh before grabbing one of the two cups that the architect prepared.
The scribe took a sip. Closed his eyes.
Opened them, and then stared vaguely into the middle distance, neither at Kaveh's face or the bag of beans on the counter.
"What do you think?" Kaveh knew he shouldn't even ask his roommate what he thought, but he was just so pleased with himself he couldn't help but radiate satisfaction in a smile. "I bought this new coffee blend from Fontaine. You can really taste the terroir of the region, don't you think? "
Alhaitham's face barely changed, but Kaveh knew the man well enough to know that the slight twitch of his nose was one of thinly-veiled disgust. "It's acrid and vaguely salty. How much did this cost?"
The blond could quite genuinely feel his mood plummeting, but he tried to tell himself that he didn't care about Alhaitham's opinion anyway. "Se — five thousand Mora," Kaveh lied — he thought — very smoothly.
"Seven thousand Mora?" Alhaitham asked dryly. He scoffed, pulled his rolled-up shirt down, and shrugged. "Well, if you want to waste your money on inferior coffee beans, who am I to stop you?"
"Oh, come on! What do you mean, 'inferior'? This coffee is obviously way better than anything we make in Sumeru!"
"Coffee trees require sunshine, heat, and ample water. In other words, they prefer a tropical climate like the sort we have in the rainforest. They would only do poorly in a coastal climate like that found in Fontaine. Which explains the unpleasant hint of salt I'm tasting." Despite this, Alhaitham took another sip of the coffee, as if to wet his throat between stabs at Kaveh's heart. "Didn't you do a whole semester taking collaborative classes with Amurta professors so that you could build houses more suited to the natural environment? I didn't think I would need to lecture a so-called genius on basic facts of biology today."
I didn't think I would need to lecture a so-called genius on basic facts of biology today.
I didn't think I would need to lecture a so-called genius on basic facts of biology today.
I didn't think I would need to lecture a so-called genius on basic facts of biology today.
Kaveh doesn't remember how he left the house, except that it was in a cloud of yelling and irate dissatisfaction, and then when he got to his worksite, he realized he'd forgotten his keys.
This is how the day continues:
Kaveh has a terrible day after that. He drops a hammer on his foot, hurting his toes and scuffing his clean white shoes in the process. He spills juice on his shirt. He thinks there must be a celestial body in retrograde, or perhaps his constellation has fallen under an inauspicious star. Maybe he needs to see a soothsayer for a karmic cleansing, or something like that. A fortune teller would make him feel better, temporarily, for a fee. Alhaitham would say that he's wasting his money. He, indeed, doesn't have that much more money to waste. He thinks maybe it all started with the coffee, maybe it was his fault for wanting to pretend that drinking it would bring him that much closer to his mother. Wherever she is. In Fontaine. He thinks he should probably be smarter than this. He hates himself for being stupid.
It doesn't matter now. Alhaitham was right. The coffee tasted like shit and was vaguely salty.
He knows he can't get back into the house without Alhaitham's say-so, and he really doesn't want to have to argue with the man through the window, convincing him to let his damned roommate in before the neighbors see the great Light of Kshahrewar without a home to go to, so Kaveh goes to Lambad's Tavern after work, as always. He doesn't have money to spend on drinks, but he knows that Lambad will put his bill on a tab that might never get paid off with the way his life is going. He needs a new job. He needs a new life. He needs a lot of things to be different from the way that they are, but he can't get his own shit together enough to change the things that he knows he needs to change, and he can't stop putting other people's needs before his own, and —
At some point, Lambad walks away and stops listening. It's not that he doesn't care, Kaveh knows, but he has other things to do. The waitress comes by to refill his goblet instead.
He needs to stop drinking. He keeps drinking anyway, because the warmth and lightheadedness from alcohol is the only thing that makes him feel good about himself, sometimes.
He doesn't really notice how loud the tavern has gotten until a delicate, feminine hand lays on his shoulder, squeezing just slightly.
Kaveh looks up, startled.
There's an Eremite girl staring down at him through her red blindfold, smile playing on her lips.
"Oh, so you are awake, pretty boy." Her tone is flirtatious. The finger she's trailing along the embroidery of his scarf — that's flirtatious, too. "Pretty heavy drinker, aren't ya? Do you want someone to drink with?"
Kaveh's mouth has gone very dry. The girl seems very pretty, with brown braids done up in two high pigtails and a toned, scarred body that has surely seen its share of battles. She's also not really his type, but he's slightly too drunk to think of a nice way to say that. "I, um," he says, fumbling for words, "I don't have any money."
That is the wrong thing to say. That's an awful thing to say, because it makes it sound like he thinks she is a prostitute, but much to his relief, she actually laughs. "That's okay, sweet thing," she purrs, gently walking her fingers towards the open collar of his shirt. "I think you'll find that my rates are very reasonable. And for a big strong guy like you? No charge."
There are a lot of conflicting feelings surging through him at the moment. A weird sense of arousal, even though he's very sure that he doesn't want to fuck her. A vague sense of embarrassed pride — does she really think I look big and strong? Doesn't she know way bigger, stronger mercenary guys who probably like her? Then a sense of sick panic sets in, as his mind tries to piece together ways to reject her, and also starts to worry about what will happen if he can't. What if, what if, what if.
She doesn't mean any harm, but he's panicking and drunk and she. Her hand is. Her hand.
Her hand gets gently tugged away by one that's even smaller than hers, and then a different set of arms encircles his shoulders.
"Sorry, Roya," a familiar voice breathes into Kaveh's ear. "I know he's hot, but he's one of mine."
The Eremite girl — Roya — Kaveh can't really see surprise on her face past the blindfold, but her mouth opens in a slight O before she laughs. "Damn!'" she swears, suddenly dropping her coy, seductive drawl and lapsing into a much more natural, raspy voice. "I was starting to think he was, but I was hoping he was just a little slow on the uptake. Knew it, though. He didn't even look at my tits once!" She's on her way out, though, as she waves her fingers at the interloper who interrupted her. "Fine! Have a good time with him and your other catch. Tell me there's at least one straight guy in this place!"
So saying, she marches off in search of more appetizing prey.
Kaveh looks up, and finds his vision eclipsed by fine golden hair.
He knows it's Aether by his feel and his scent more so than what he can see. Only the Traveler holds him this sweetly, this carefully; only the Traveler smells like this, like gentle winds and distant grasses. Still, what he can see is — it's breathtaking.
Aether is dressed up like an Eremite dancer, the kind that Kaveh's only ever admired from afar during his brief sojourns to the desert. His top is cropped and backless and barely there; his thin shorts are adorned by a sultry red sash about his hips; he has heeled open-toe shoes and bangles around his wrists and his hair's been braided in the style that the mercenary girls like. His pert flat pecs and his toned belly give way to strips of white cloth wrapped around his sides and chest, and his skin smells faintly of fruit and flowers.
Kaveh's never been so hard and so drunk at the same time.
"Aether, why are you dressed like that?" the architect manages, trying to readjust his hips to hide the tent in his pants.
Aether — because it is Aether — Aether laughs. He withdraw his hands from around Kaveh's shoulders. Kaveh wishes he would put them back.
"I ran into Dehya with some of her girls at Caravan Ribat," the traveler explains. "Well, not her girls — but girls she knows from the mercenary business, you know? We did this big mission together, and then we got to talking, and some of the mercs wanted to go into town to party with their earnings. Dehya didn't come with us because she's" — Aether turns his wrist a certain way, and somehow Kaveh understands, what he means is that Dehya likes women — "so she went back to Aaru Village with Candace. But the girls who like boys, you know..."
Aether lowers his voice, whispering conspiratorially into the shell of Kaveh's ear:
"We all decided to dress up and hit the tavern to get some dick."
Again.
Kaveh's never felt harder in his life.
"And you, ah," he stammers awkwardly, "you're also... trying to..."
"He wants a good fuck, yes," Alhaitham's voice interrupts from the side.
Kaveh suddenly realizes that his roommate has been leaning against the wall behind him the whole time.
"He told me so earlier," the scribe continues in a low and unimpressed voice with arms folded, staring at the juice stain on Kaveh's white shirt. "Said he wants the best and biggest cock Sumeru has to offer. I suppose I shouldn't let him leave disappointed."
The architect thinks it might be vaguely unhealthy for his dick to go flaccid and limp so quickly.
Right. Right. Of course. How could he — why did he get his hopes up? Of course Alhaitham and Aether already made plans together. Of course Alhaitham's already claimed Aether. They've known each other for longer than Kaveh's known Aether. They went and had that adventure together, the one where they saved Lesser Lord Kusanali from the Akademiya's scheming. He's not — he couldn't ever — he can't compare.
His eyes lower to his half-empty goblet again.
Aether claps him on the shoulder cheerfully, with a slightly girlish charm that he doesn't have when he's dressed in his normal, boyish traveling clothes.
"We're here to pick you up and take you home," the traveler announces, very sweetly. "Can you walk, Kaveh? If you can't, you can lean on my shoulder. I think you'll sober up once you get outside."
Pick him up. Take him home. Like he's an unruly child that they have to look after. And then you'll leave me alone on the couch, right? Kaveh wants to ask that, but he can't find the words. And then he's going to fuck you, right? He feels a little pathetic. He wonders if Roya could come by to call him big and strong again. He thinks he might need it, but then, it's pathetic to need it, too.
Alhaitham leans over the counter and slides the waitress on duty a bag of Mora. "That should settle his tab," the man announces flatly. Then he turns with a slightly too-dramatic whirl of his cowl, and leaves Aether to hold Kaveh up. "Come on, Kaveh. We're going home."
When they get in through the front door, because Alhaitham has his keys and Kaveh does not, the architect already feels much more sober than he was in the tavern. He thinks that he can walk on his own, but he's been leaning on Aether's shoulder the whole time because he wants to keep breathing in the traveler's scent. He might have to thank every Eremite girl in Sumeru City until he finds the ones that decided to dress Aether up in their finery and pour oil on his skin. Even if he never gets to do anything else to the traveler dressed as a dancer, he might jerk one out before he goes to bed. He might be pathetic enough to press his ear up against the wall to Alhaitham's bedroom to listen to Aether's moans and gasps. He might, he might, he might.
He's thinking that up until the traveler carries him in through the front door, and then tugs him gently towards Alhaitham's quarters with them.
"Huh?" He blinks wide. He suddenly feels very, very awake. "Wait, I — my room's that way."
Aether, sweet temptation, just smiles. "I know that, silly," he chides Kaveh. "But didn't you get really hard earlier when you saw me?"
Fuck. Of course he noticed. "I — well, that was — I thought you were going to sleep with Alhaitham?" He wishes he could sound less stupid in the moment. He wants to reassure Aether that he is, in fact, very intelligent, and if the traveler needs a lecture on deconstructionist styles of architecture, he can give one right away. "You want — do you want me too?"
Alhaitham, who is a few paces ahead and already removing his cloak and his shoes, scoffs at that. "I can't keep him satisfied on my own. Come in. Make yourself useful and entertain him long enough for me to take breaks."
That.
Well.
Kaveh tells himself that it is impossible to argue with Alhaitham when he takes a tone like that.
They wind up tumbling into bed together, all three of them, and suddenly Kaveh has never been more grateful to Alhaitham in his life for the scribe's taste in garishly huge mattresses.
Aether's shorts are the first thing to go, even though they all mutually agree that the rest of his ensemble should stay on as much as possible. Kaveh still feels a little too drunk for fine motor activities, so he winds up just watching Alhaitham kiss Aether, open-tongued and sloppy as the scribe's long fingers rub circles into the traveler's clit. He needs to sober up. He tells himself that he needs to sober up so that he can enjoy what's being offered to him, but all he does is jerk his own cock uselessly for a bit, getting it ready for Aether's use.
Aether moans and gasps in the best way. Kaveh thinks he could get drunk on his sounds, too. The traveler spreads his legs so that the scarlet sash around his hips drapes over his thigh as Alhaitham fingers his pussy open, two fingers deep, the exact same way the scribe often holds the spine of a book. Aether squirms beautifully, arches his back beautifully. His moans rise higher and higher and higher until he's whimpering I'm coming I'm coming I'm coming and Alhaitham makes him squirt, makes his pussy spasm with pleasure as it yields to his thick fingers.
When the scribe withdraws his hands, Kaveh lowers his mouth and starts lapping up Aether's juices with his tongue.
"Oh," Aether moans, spreading his legs even more gratefully. "Oh, yes."
He must be coming down from one orgasm and into another, but his appetite hasn't wavered any less. Aether tastes like sun and sugar and grapes on the vine, and Kaveh's inebriation seems to be helping him in this regard, because the sloppier and messier he licks, like a dog more so than a man, the more the traveler seems to like it. Kaveh worships Aether's clit, rolling his tongue over it over and over. He is dimly aware of Alhaitham kissing Aether again, and Kaveh wonders for no real reason whether or not the man who used to be his best friend isn't a little lonely. He never really thought that Alhaitham would kiss someone like that. So desperate and tender. So careful. So sweet.
Kaveh makes Aether come with his tongue, winning another soft cry and a string of praise, and he feels divine for it. So sated, so validated. It's so, so easy to make the traveler come, but so satisfying, too.
"Fuck him first," Alhaitham says at length, parting from the kiss. "Your cock is smaller."
The architect groans at that, makes a frustrated noise — really, does this have to be about his cock being smaller? — but mercifully, Aether knows just what to do with him, rocking him close, touching his cheek.
"Fuck me, Kaveh," the traveler begs, a little breathless and dazed now that he's come twice in a row. He's a vision against the sheets in his gold jewelry and dancer's sashes, and Kaveh wants to touch every inch of his smooth skin. "I want you so much."
How is he supposed to resist when Aether begs so sweetly?
His cock practically melts into Aether's pussy — the traveler is so wet, so deliciously slutty and creamy-soft, that for a moment, Kaveh just frots helplessly into his sloppy cunt, dragging the shaft of his dick along Aether's wet folds without putting it in fully. He knows it's good because of the way the "dancer" moans and whimpers, sticking his tongue out a little as if he can taste the pleasure coming from the friction of Kaveh's cock along his clit, but the architect knows he can do this even better. He knows he can please Aether, when it's so, so easy, and he's so, so willing.
Slowly, surely, Kaveh thrusts all the way in, and then he has to take deep breaths just to process the hot wet pleasure of the tight sleeve of Aether's pussy around his cock.
Something about being in this position — on top of Aether, deep in his cunt, with his legs spread and body twitching as he waits to be used — makes Kaveh feel uncharacteristically vicious. "Is that why you came to find us?" He knows the answer, but he wants to hear it from the traveler's lips. He reaches down between Aether's legs to rub his clit some more as he starts slowly thrusting back and forth into his wet pussy. "Were you planning to get fucked by the both of us tonight?"
"Yes," Aether gasps, his insides squeezing helplessly around Kaveh's cock, "yes, yes —"
"You wanted to get gangbanged by the Akademiya's best?" Kaveh murmurs, picking up wildly in pace, fucking harder into the traveler's eager hole. There is an argument to be made that the word gangbang doesn't apply in a threesome, but he doesn't want to hear it from Alhaitham in the moment, and Alhaitham is busy playing with the end of Aether's braid, anyway. "You want to be our good little slut?"
"Yes, oh, Kaveh, please, yes —"
Woefully, even by Kaveh's standards, he comes quick. He just can't help himself, given how hot and tight and luscious the traveler's hole is, but he thinks it might not matter because he can feel Aether coming around him, too.
Once he can feel that they've both ridden out the full aftershocks of their orgasms, he pulls out with a slightly breathless gasp, leaving the smaller blond dripping and satisfied.
Before Kaveh's cum has even had a chance to roll out of Aether's pussy, Alhaitham's hands seize around the traveler's thighs and pull him to a sitting position.
"My turn now," the scribe murmurs in a low voice. "I want you from behind."
With his cock sated for the moment, there's nothing Kaveh can or should do to protest this. He watches Alhaitham maneuver Aether into a doggystyle position; he'd be mildly concerned about consent if not for the fact that Aether's expression is slightly dazed but clearly excited. The more roughly Alhaitham manhandles him, the more aroused Aether seems to get. Being fucked by one cock after the other seems to be exactly what the traveler wanted for the night.
Then Alhaitham thrusts in, quite without preamble, and Aether moans so loudly and with such glee that Kaveh is grateful that the scribe doesn't have immediate neighbors.
There really is a coarse artistic beauty to Alhaitham's body — not that Kaveh would ever admit it out loud. The man's propensity for a high-protein diet and extreme ideas around daily exercise has left him unmistakably chiseled and athletic. His arms and chest exude raw masculinity as he pulls Aether's arms behind his back. Every muscle in the scribe's body seems to flex and tense as he's fucking into the traveler's greedy, wet pussy, and Kaveh thinks that he fucks like a Rishboland Tiger, lost in the throes of bestial heat.
Aether looks so good as he's getting his brains fucked out of him, his pretty eyes rolling back slightly in his head as Alhaitham fucks him brutally, winning soft, eager mewls of pleasure.
Kaveh leans forward to kiss the traveler, trying to keep him quiet. He pulls at Aether's braid to play with it, then realizes that the metal ornament at the end of it is awfully heavy. Pulling back, Kaveh watches the traveler bounce with each of Alhaitham's hard thrusts as he gently removes the adornment, then coaxes his heavy metal bracelets off his wrists, so that Aether can be more comfortable in bed.
Alhaitham doesn't seem to mind the change. If anything, he lets out a low groan, seemingly in response to the cascade of fine golden hair that tumbles out of Aether's braid when Kaveh pulls it loose — and Kaveh can't help but think that that's a little cute, actually, the idea that he likes Aether's long, flowing locks.
He feels a stupid masculine urge — maybe a sort of primal breeding instinct — to outdo Alhaitham at this juncture. His spent cock is finally starting to stir with interest again. Something about watching another man fuck Aether's sweet pussy with such raw intensity makes Kaveh want to do it again, fuck him harder, churn all of Alhaitham's cum out of that tight hole to replace it with his own. He should be above it all, but some absurd animal instinct of his demands that he compete. After all, he came so quickly, whereas Alhaitham — Alhaitham has clearly made Aether come on his cock two or three times now, but the big thick rod sliding in and out of Aether's pussy doesn't seem to have yielded in the least, and the scribe doesn't show any signs of giving in to his orgasm yet. Kaveh wants to outdo him. Kaveh wants to be the dominant male.
Maybe it doesn't need to be about replacement, though. For no reason at all, Kaveh suddenly remembers a paper he read during that semester of collaborative classes with Amurta professors — some speculative thing about how the ancient settlers of Mondstadt used to all fuck the same women in their settlements, so that all men in the tribe were considered fathers of their children. If they filled Aether's womb with a child — if Alhaitham provided the Mora and the stability, and he provided the nurturing and care that both Aether and their child would need — wouldn't that be — couldn't that be —
"Kaveh," Aether whimpers, startling him out of his thoughts. "I want your cock, too."
"Not enough for the 'best cock in Sumeru' to be filling up your hole?" Alhaitham rumbles, dutifully fucking Aether deeper into the sheets. His fingers slide into Aether's mouth, rubbing and violating his tongue. "Or do you need this one filled, too?"
"Ah, nnnh, aahn" — the loose sounds Aether makes with Alhaitham's fingers in his mouth are obscene, so lewd that Kaveh finds his cock leaking precum at the sound of them. "Please, please," he manages, slurring his words just slightly so that it sounds more like pwease, pwease. "I want you both at once."
"Aren't you supposed to be a dancer?" Alhaitham asks. "Shake your hips, then. Show me how you dance."
Aether moans, and then obliges. He starts rolling and shaking his hips into each one of Alhaitham's slow, steady thrusts, and the way he moves his body is absolutely obscene; Kaveh can see the head of Alhaitham's cock press up against Aether's thin belly every time he rocks his hips, and he gyrates like some fertile Jinni from the descriptions of ancient civilizations out in the desert sands.
The desire to breed him full and satisfied hits the architect like a tidal wave. He pulls Aether's head lower, drags the head of his aching erection over the traveler's warm mouth as Aether grinds and drags his slutty cunt over Alhaitham's throbbing cock.
Aether giving him sloppy head while Alhaitham fucks the traveler stupid — this could be heaven.
It doesn't take much longer before Aether tenses and squeezes down, coming one more time, and this time, Alhaitham surrenders with him, his fat, engorged cock finally sending thick spurts of hot white cum to flood the traveler's insides.
"I actually do want to see him dance now," Alhaitham pants, between breaths. "Nothing as fine as what they do at the Zubayr. I want him to shake his ass and flash us that wet cunt."
Kaveh's cock is aching. He can see the cum dripping out of Aether's pussy, and he wants to have his cock in the same place, filling him up, mixing semen with semen.
"Come on, Aether. On your feet," he murmurs, pulling the head of his cock away from the traveler's warm lips. "Show us how you dance with cum dripping down your legs, and then we'll fill you up again."
This is how the day ends:
At some point, when Aether is well and truly tired out, having had orgasm after orgasm and all his pretty clothes ruined at last by sweat and cum, he takes everything off and rolls over in the bed to fall asleep. The traveler somehow still manages to be beautiful even after everything that happened.
Alhaitham, never one to stay awake if there isn't anything else demanding his attention, soon follows suit. He doesn't even say anything to Kaveh — he just rolls over, draping one arm over Aether's waist, and then he falls asleep.
That leaves Kaveh, drained and too-awake and still somewhat in awe that any of it happened at all.
His heart is still racing from exertion. Sweat is still cooling on his body as he stares at his roommate and their lover asleep in bed. After a pause, he figures he'll get up to get a wet towel to wipe Aether off. Then he thinks maybe it isn't necessary, and they can just wash up in the morning. He wonders if he's supposed to stay where he is. He wonders if he's supposed to go back to his bed now that the fun is over.
After a long, long silence, Kaveh rises from the bed to leave — but then slender fingers wrap around his wrist, and he freezes in place instinctively.
Aether isn't asleep after all, and is looking at him with drowsy dreaminess.
"Kaveh, where are you going?" he asks, in a sleepy, innocent voice that contradicts everything he's done in the past hour.
And Kaveh can't really find the words to explain where he's going. "My — my shoes are dirty," he says, for no reason that he can understand. "My shirt needs to be cleaned, too. Aether, you probably have to return this stuff to the girls tomorrow, right? We should clean them before they... I mean, they knew what you would be doing, but we should still... I can do it since you're both tired... and I thought — I thought maybe you didn't want me anymore."
Aether only shakes his head very slowly, and then pulls Kaveh closer, pulls Kaveh in.
Alhaitham doesn't open his eyes, but he fishes around, lazily, for the blanket. He throws it blindly over Aether, then rearranges it more gently over the traveler's shoulders, so that he's tucked in. He's left just enough extra fabric so that there's room for Kaveh, too. Then he settles back into the pillows, and sighs.
"Just stay," he murmurs, eyes closed, and just as sleepy. "We can worry about everything else in the morning."