Work Text:
Closing the door behind him with a soft click, Ambrosius slipped off his running shoes before stepping inside the apartment. His heart still raced with exertion as he pulled down the hood of his rain-slicked jacket, sweat cooling on the back of his neck and face. The rain had brought down the temperature to a crisp, sublime briskness, and it had been perfect for his evening run (even if his hair could do without the humidity).
Hanging his jacket on the coat rack, chin bobbing to the beat of his music, his eyes passed over the row of shoes, lingering on the leftmost shelf. He paused. The black boots that usually occupied the space were still absent, the same as they were when Ambrosius had first gotten home.
It wasn’t often Ambrosius beat Ballister back at the end of the day, with Ballister usually having long since buried himself in his academy reports. Even rarer for Ambrosius to finish his run and still see that shelf empty. Perhaps he’d gotten carried away with his research project in the archives. Still, why not give Ambrosius a heads-up?
Ambrosius pushed down his growing anxiety. It’s not as if Ballister has never been this late coming home before, especially with their development reports due soon. Ambrosius would just need to call, that was all. Nothing to worry about.
But first, Ambrosius desperately needed a drink. Bending down to open the refrigerator, he retrieved his water bottle and took a slow sip, eyes surveying the inside of the fridge. His fingers tapped to the beat of his music against the fridge door. They haven’t already eaten through all of those strawberries, have they …?
Through his earbuds, he heard a muffled thud behind him. He glanced over just in time to see Ballister shuffle into the main room, his gait sluggish as he dragged his hand down his face. He didn’t seem to notice Ambrosius as he let out a tired sigh, running his fingers through his hair.
Ambrosius straightened, letting the fridge door close, and Ballister’s eyes snapped upwards. When their gazes met, Ballister faltered. For a fleeting moment, Ambrosius could see him attempt to mask the fatigue in his eyes, but Ambrosius’ concern must have been obvious as he quickly gave up the charade. He raised a hand, a weary smile tugging his lips. “Sorry I didn’t call.”
“You’re fine,” Ambrosius said, turning off his music as he let his eyes roll up Ballister’s figure. He’d set down his satchel, but he’d yet to remove his coat and, as Ambrosius observed with growing shock, his shoes. His hair hung in sopping wet clumps on his forehead, rain droplets clinging to his eyelashes.
“You should have told me you forgot your umbrella,” Ambrosius said gently. “I would’ve picked you up from the archives.”
“Hmm?” Ballister said, dragging a hand across his heavy eyelids. “Oh. I was still at the practice field, actually. I packed up before the rain made the grass too muddy."
“You were still running drills?”
Ballister looked askance, and Ambrosius felt a wave of concern surge through him. When he’d departed from the practice fields earlier that afternoon, the two of them had already been going for several hours at that point. “How long were you out for? You took breaks, right?"
“Not long. I’m fine, really.” Ballister shrugged, eyes lingering somewhere at Ambrosius’ feet. “You know how busy we’ve been. I just wanted to play a little catch-up, is all.”
The thought of Ballister toiling away at the field alone with rain clouds rolling in tugged at Ambrosius’ heartstrings. Ambrosius had always admired Ballister’s work ethic and understood why Ballister felt the need to push himself so hard, to be so exceptional anyone would be a fool to dismiss him. But it frustrated him in equal measures how it always seemed to come at the cost of his partner’s well-being.
Ballister stepped further into the living room, stretching out his back with a wince and pulling Ambrosius from his thoughts. Ambrosius pressed his lips together with fresh resolve.
Setting down his water bottle, Ambrosius approached Ballister from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist and drawing him close. His coat felt frightfully thin under Ambrosius’ fingertips; there was no way it had protected him on the walk home. Gloreth, he was freezing.
Ballister folded into him without resistance, releasing a slow breath as Ambrosius rested his chin on his shoulder. Ambrosius nosed the folds of his damp collar, letting out a low hum.
“I know you’re going to be an amazing knight one day, Bal.” Covering Ballister’s hand with his own, he dragged his thumb over his well-worn palm, lingering on freshly blistered calluses. “But I don’t think giving yourself pneumonia is the best way to do that.”
Ballister let out a slow sigh through his nose, as if he’d been expecting Ambrosius to say that. “I barely even noticed when it started raining, honestly. And I promise I really did just lose track of the time.” Shifting their hands around, he took Ambrosius’ hand and kissed the back of his wrist. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make you worry.”
Ambrosius hummed, using his free hand to rub some warmth into Ballister’s arm. If only Ambrosius could make him understand all he wanted was for Ballister to put as much stock into taking care of himself as he did in pursuing knighthood, then Ambrosius would be happy. They could talk about that later, though. For now, Ambrosius just wanted to make him comfortable—as it were, the man looked ready to pass out onto the floor.
“Well, you’re home now,” Ambrosius said, placing a gentle kiss on the back of his neck, “and, last time I checked, this is a brooding-free zone. Don’t worry, though; I won’t write you a ticket.”
A spark of amusement flashed in Ballister's eyes, his lips curling. It soon faded, however, as his fatigue crept back over him, deepening the creases in his face. Ambrosius’ work wasn't finished yet.
Pressing another kiss to his neck, Ambrosius took his damp coat and slid it off his shoulders, folding it and draping it over the armchair. He then settled a hand on the small of Ballister's back, nudging him towards the living room. “Come on, you’ll feel better once you’re out of those shoes.”
Ambrosius guided Ballister to the couch, and Ballister sank into the cushions with a soft sigh. Ambrosius pressed a chaste kiss against his lips before he knelt on the floor before him. His hand slid up Ballister’s pant leg, fingers curling around his calf as he loosened the laces of his boot with a deft touch, the air fragrant with the scent of leather and freshly damp earth. He lifted Ballister's leg and tugged off his boot, the warm, solid muscles of Ballister's calf tightening under his fingertips. He couldn't resist giving a gentle squeeze, eliciting a sharp inhale above him
Glancing up through his lashes, Ambrosius caught sight of Ballister’s flustered gaze. He gave a sly smirk as he traced the delicate curve of his calf, his amusement growing as Ballister's face flushed darker.
Ballister cleared his throat. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
Ambrosius’ grin widened.
“Are you?”
Ballister averted his eyes, and Ambrosius had to smother his chuckle into his knee.
He made short work of the other boot before he stood, taking the shoes and coat to the front entryway. As he set the boots down on their designated spot on the leftmost shelf, he took a brief moment to savor the sight. Home at last. Everything was as it should be.
When Ambrosius returned to the living room, his footsteps muted on the plush carpet, he slowed to a halt when he found Ballister resting with his eyes closed, looking so peaceful Ambrosius was hesitant to disturb him. When he moved to sit down, however, Ballister stirred, shifting towards him and dropping his head against Ambrosius’ sternum. Without a word, Ambrosius made room, savoring the feeling of his partner’s weight pressed against him.
A tranquil quiet settled between them, Ambrosius’ attention absorbed in the steady rise and fall of Ballister’s chest. He let his fingers trace gentle patterns along Ballister’s arm, nosing the length of his hairline as his lips brushed his temple. Ballister sagged deeper into his touch until, for a moment, Ambrosius feared he might have fallen asleep.
Running his hand through his dark hair, he tugged Ballister’s head to the side, lips meeting his ear. “Why don’t you hop in the shower?” he murmured. “I can get started on dinner.”
With visible effort, Ballister pulled away, shooting him a skeptical look. “I think I need a little more convincing before trusting you in the kitchen by yourself.” He hid his face in the curve of Ambrosius’ neck, grabbing a handful of his hoodie as he inhaled deeply. He hummed low, the line of his shoulders relaxing. “Besides, you’re the one that stinks.”
“Well,” Ambrosius mused as Ballister continued breathing him in, hand still wrapped tightly in his shirt. “You don’t seem to mind that much.”
He could feel it as Ballister grinned against his skin. Ambrosius hugged him closer, fixing a stray strand of hair, before pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Go on,” he said. “Promise I won’t burn the place down.”
Ballister sighed, his frame slumping with resignation. “Fine,” he said as he pulled away, rising to his feet. “Just make sure you do something with that chicken, okay? I left it in the fridge to defrost last night.”
“I’ll figure something out,” said Ambrosius with a wink, mind already sorting through ideas for dinner. Something rich and creamy, if possible.
With a final amused look, Ballister strode off to their bedroom. Ambrosius couldn't help but watch him go, his eyes lingering on the curve of his backside. He bit down on his curling lip as warmth stirred in his lower abdomen.
Yes, Ambrosius’ work was very, very far from being finished.
Once Ballister retreated into the shower, gentle steam wafting through the crack of the door, Ambrosius changed out of his workout clothes into something more comfortable before striding into the kitchen.
While Ambrosius wasn’t yet as competent a cook as Ballister, he knew how to make a splendid creamy chicken and pasta. Of the few dishes Ambrosius could prepare, this was the one he felt most confident in whipping up, even tossing in a few improvised additions to enhance the flavor to his liking. Gone were the days he’d accidentally slice his hand open peeling a potato. For the most part.
When Ballister emerged from the shower, his hair damp and curling slightly at the ends, he'd changed into a soft, gray sleep shirt and faded boxers. Ambrosius felt his breath catch. Clearing his throat, he forced his attention back to the task at hand, his grip tight on the wooden spoon as he stirred the pasta. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t help his gaze drifting back towards those droplets of water gliding down Ballister’s neck, disappearing into the supple groove of his chest.
As Ballister drew close enough to peek over Ambrosius’ shoulder, his crisp, clean scent wrapped around Ambrosius with dizzying intensity.
“Looks good,” Ballister murmured, lips pursed. “Your sauce might need a little more cream, though.”
Ambrosius tore his eyes away from Ballister’s lips, reaching for the carton of cream so quickly that he almost knocked it over. With an amused look, Ballister slid into his seat and propped his head on his hand, eyes sparkling in the dim light as he watched Ambrosius cook. As Ballister shifted his legs to get comfortable, the fabric of his boxers rode up his thighs, revealing a sliver of tantalizing skin.
Ambrosius stared, nearly forgetting the cream he was pouring into the pan until he’d almost drowned his sauce.
This meal was going to last an eternity, he thought, screwing the carton’s cap back on with more force than necessary.
When Ambrosius finished and set the plate in front of him, Ballister’s eyes lit up. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure I’d come out to see the kitchen intact. I’m glad.”
Ambrosius had to stop himself from rolling his eyes as he took his seat. “Are you ever going to let that go?”
“You set stew on fire.”
“I didn’t set the stew on fire, I set the stove on fire around the stew. The stew came out great, you said so yourself.”
Ballister conceded, a small smile playing on his lips as he twirled the pasta around his fork. As Ballister raised his utensil to his mouth, Ambrosius couldn’t tear his eyes away, his pulse quickened as Ballister’s lips closed around the morsel. When Ballister moaned, his eyes sliding shut, Ambrosius had to resist the impulse to reach over the table and kiss the sound from his lips.
Instead, he schooled his face into a neutral expression as Ballister opened his eyes. “This is incredible,” Ballister said, lifting his fork for a second bite. As he chewed, his brow furrowed in thought. “What did you add to this, cayenne?”
“Paprika,” Ambrosius said, pleased he’d noticed. “Good, right?”
Ballister huffed, shaking his head. “You have a knack for that sort of thing, I’ll give you that. When you aren’t making stew, anyway.”
This time Ambrosius let himself roll his eyes, and Ballister’s mouth curled teasingly. His expression then gentled to something more sincere. “It’s amazing, Ambrosius. Thank you.”
Pride swelled in Ambrosius’ chest. As he began to eat from his plate, however, he barely tasted it. He was too transfixed on the sight of Ballister’s eyes drifting close as he took another leisurely bite.
They ate slowly, the peaceful silence of the room interrupted only by the clinking of their silverware and sparse conversation. Ambrosius watched as Ballister enjoyed every bite, chest tightening with a mixture of satisfaction and simmering arousal as Ballister’s eyelids grew heavier, his breath deepening. The way Ballister’s lashes fluttered against his cheeks and his lips parted in silent appreciation was intoxicating. Gloreth, did Ambrosius love to cook. He really needed to do it more often—provided Ballister let him into the kitchen once in a while.
When the both of them had finished, Ballister sank forward with a sigh, nestling his head in the crook of his arms. His expression was serene and peaceful, the pained crease of his brow now a distant memory. Taking a moment to bask in the sight, Ambrosius carried the dishes into the kitchen, taking his time washing up. It gave them both a chance to digest their meals and Ambrosius the time to gather himself. His plans for the evening were only just getting started.
As Ambrosius finished and set the last of the dishes in the cabinet above his head, he looked back where Ballister still lay slumbering peacefully. The soft glow of the outside streetlights poured over his features, highlighting the curve of his jaw and the steady movement of his chest. As Ambrosius settled back into his seat, Ballister stirred, letting out a low sigh.
“I still have to finish those reports,” he murmured into the fold of his arms. “Captain’s going to be wanting them next week.”
Ambrosius had to hold back a huff, as fond as he was exasperated. The world could end at that moment and Ballister would still have his head buried in his weekly agenda.
He reached over and covered Ballister's hand with his own, his thumb tracing the weathered grooves of his knuckles. He waited for Ballister to open his heavy eyelids and fix him with a sleepy look. Ambrosius smiled.
“I think I’ll be taking the rest of the night off myself.” He brought Ballister’s hand to his lips, gazing deep into warm, brown eyes. “I’d love it if you joined me.”
Ballister lifted his head with a look of curious amusement. Ambrosius leaned closer, and Ballister hesitated. When their lips met, though, his mouth molded under Ambrosius’ own, still tasting of their rich, buttery meal. As Ambrosius took hold of Ballister’s jaw, guiding him back for a deeper, more searing kiss, Ballister moaned.
Ambrosius pulled away. Ballister’s eyes had darkened to a deep, ravenous black. His own breath ragged, Ambrosius leaned in again, just close enough for his lips to graze against Ballister's.
“Let me take care of you.”
This time, Ballister's lips held no hesitation as Ambrosius kissed him, melting against him with a husky sigh. Ambrosius stood and took Ballister’s hand, helping him up from his seat.
With a careful step, Ambrosius led Ballister towards their bedroom, guiding him down until he was sat on their bed as Ambrosius kissed him hungrily, his hips flush between Ballister's thighs. Ballister gasped and grabbed at Ambrosius’ shirt, pulling him closer until Ambrosius nearly toppled over. Ambrosius groaned, shivering with the effort to stay upright.
He needed to stay focused. It was getting difficult, though. The taste of Ballister on his tongue. The heat radiating off his body. It all sent a surge of dizzying desire rushing through him. He had his strategies. He just needed to stick to them. Even if the way Ballister’s mouth parted under Ambrosius’ tongue made him want to sink to his knees.
Just as the temptation to let go and give in overwhelmed him, Ambrosius forced himself to gentle his touch, softening the kiss. He earned himself a disgruntled whine as Ballister arched his back, seeking the firm press of Ambrosius' mouth.
Through their kiss, Ambrosius’ lips curled.
Better. But Ambrosius wasn’t done yet.
Ambrosius hooked his hands under Ballister's legs and pushed him backward onto the bed where he fell with a bewildered expression. Ambrosius climbed on top of him, trailing kisses down his jawline and nipping at his neck. At Ballister’s gentle sigh, a wave of lust trembled through him, and he tightened his grip on the soft sheets beneath them.
His lips brushed the soft skin below Ballister's ears, his intoxicating scent enveloped him. He pressed his face against where his neck met his shoulder, inhaling with a deep, throaty moan.
“You smell so good,” he exhaled, barely able to think straight. Ballister's chuckle brushed his ear, and a shiver ran down his spine.
“Well, you see,” Ballister murmured, “it’s this crazy new invention they’re calling shampoo.”
Ambrosius hummed, partial to disagree. While the cool, refreshing pine of Ballister’s shampoo always left him salivating, it was more than that. A heady mixture of hair gel and armor polish and Ambrosius’ own laundry detergent and outdoor air and something unique to Ballister. It drove Ambrosius out of his mind as he chased the scent, trying to breathe in the whole of him.
Ambrosius continued to trail soft kisses down Ballister's neck, his hips thrusting steadily between Ballister's legs, feeling his growing arousal dragging against his own. As Ballister's hot breath grew more ragged in his ear, Ambrosius was vaguely aware he was starting to lose focus. He found it hard to remember why that had mattered.
As he felt Ballister’s hand inched towards his pants, however, his senses snapped back to him. He snatched Ballister’s hand and held it above his head, a smirk forming on his face at Ballister’s puzzled look.
“I think we can both agree you’ve worked hard enough today,” he murmured, batting his eyelashes. “Wouldn’t you?”
A flustered chuckle escaped Ballister’s lips. He rolled his eyes. “Now you’re just being absurd.”
Underneath the amused aloofness, however, Ballister’s eyes betrayed his desire, a flush of warmth spreading across his face. Ambrosius’ smirk grew wider as he snaked his hand under Ballister's shirt and pushed it upwards, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of his nipple. Ballister moaned and let his head fall back to the mattress, his legs falling open as Ambrosius pressed closer.
With his free hand, Ambrosius cupped his pec to take more of his skin into his mouth, sucking wetly. Ballister shivered, his hand squirming in Ambrosius’ grip. Brushing his thumb over Ballister’s wrist's feverish pulse, he let out a satisfied breath over his nipple, now shiny with spit, and elicited an incandescent sound.
If Ballister’s body was an instrument, then Ambrosius was its maestro. Every moment in tune. Every touch deliberate. Irresistible music.
He gently gripped Ballister's wrist, commanding him to stay put. Ballister sighed but as Ambrosius let go and pulled Ballister’s shirt over his head, he kept his arms raised, gazing up at Ambrosius through half-lidded eyes.
Ambrosius smiled in reply, nuzzling the trail of hair leading down to Ballister's groin. The smell of Ballister's musk was stronger here, fueling Ambrosius’ desire further. He stayed focused this time.
“I said I was going to take care of you,” he murmured, his face buried in the soft fabric of Ballister’s boxers. Ballister stared back at him, his eyes filled with helpless desire. Ambrosius grinned as he slipped his fingers through the elastic of his pants, pulling them down.
“So I’m going to take care of you.”
As Ambrosius’ lips closed around the tip of Ballister’s leaking cock, Ballister’s perfect brown eyes fluttered shut. His head fell back, his chest laboring with heavy breath.
Ambrosius's grin widened, and he took him deeper into his mouth.
Better.
Ambrosius’ thighs were burning.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead. Cupping Ballister’s knee, he readjusted his position so that Ballister’s leg was slung more comfortably over his shoulder. Ballister moaned beneath him, his eyes sliding in and out of focus.
Ambrosius groaned, his breath coming out in short, sharp pants. His core muscles screamed at him, but his pace didn’t falter. Moving his hand from Ballister's knee, he braced it against the headboard, aiming his hips where his cock would brush that sweet spot deep inside Ballister’s body. He knew he succeeded when Ballister’s eyes drifted shut, his moans growing louder.
“Ah, hah, hah …”
With his other hand, Ambrosius squeezed Ballister's thigh before movin to where his cock thrust into Ballister’s body, his thumb tracing that sensitive spot between the heavy heat of his sack and his hole. Ballister’s breath hitched.
“A-Ah … ‘mbrosius …”
Fluid seeped from Ballister's cock. His hand twitched above his head, his face contorted in exquisite agony. Ambrosius’ hand dropped from the headboard and took hold of his wrists, pinning them to the mattress, causing Ballister to whine.
“I know,” Ambrosius murmured. “I know you want to come, your cock looks so beautiful right now but just a little longer. It’s going to feel so good I promise.”
Ballister whined again. His head fell back, his body swaying gently to the force of Ambrosius' thrusts.
Before Ambrosius knew it, he felt the weight of his orgasm bearing down on him. Even the condom couldn’t dull the sweet torture of Ballister’s body so pliant beneath him. Panicked, he squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath as he forced himself not to buck his hips forward. He moved his hand down to tug at his sack, his abdomen burning with denied pleasure.
Not yet. Not yet. He needed to keep his cock hard for Ballister. Not just yet.
The feeling faded, Ambrosius’ body shaking with effort. With trembling fingers, he resumed massaging that pleasurable spot between Ballister’s cock and his hole, timing his gentle touch with the thrust of his cock. When Ballister came, it was with a keening cry and full body quivering, his hole spasming, trying to pull Ambrosius' cock deeper inside of him. Ambrosius resisted the urge, keeping his pace steady until, finally, Ballister slackened under him, the last of his shudders wrung out from his body.
Ambrosius thanked the sun and moon and stars that he’d been keeping up with his kegel exercises, or else he would’ve been done for.
Ballister lay panting beneath him. Lowering his hand, Ambrosius ran his fingers through dark, sweaty hair, cupping Ballister’s cheek. Ballister dropped his head into his touch, gazing up at Ambrosius with eyes still foggy with molten desire.
Ambrosius smiled and readjusted his hand on Ballister's thigh. His other hand tightened on the plush swell of Ballister's ass as he shifted him to fit more securely onto his lap, Ambrosius' cock still nestled inside his loose, twitching hole. He mouthed wet kisses down the inside of his thigh, tasting his sweat as Ballister quivered beneath him.
When Ambrosius took hold of Ballister’s shaft, he elicited a delicious, stringent whine. Ambrosius shushed him gently as he began carefully stroking his length, his grip slippery with pre-come.
“I know, Bal,” he said, pressing his thumb into the weeping slit of Ballister’s cock. “I know.”
More fluid dribbled onto Ambrosius’ fingers. Tears pricked hazy, brown eyes, even as Ballister’s hips weakly rocked into Ambrosius' touch, his legs squeezing Ambrosius closer. Ambrosius shallowly bucked his hips forward, pressure building at the base of his spine. With the hand still gripping Ballister's ass, he slipped his thumb inside of him, stretching out the sensitive skin even further.
Ballister’s head fell backward, thick stripes of semen bursting onto his chest. Ambrosius let out a sigh and closed his eyes as he let his own orgasm consume him.
As the last of his climax shuddered through his body, Ambrosius collapsed forward, one hand pressed to the mattress by Ballister's head as he panted. Below him, Ballister gasped for breath, his pulse visibly jumping in the exposed curve of his throat. Ambrosius ran a hand soothingly down his side until Ballister's pulse returned to its steady pace.
Ballister gazed up at him with cloudy eyes, some semblance of coherence coming back to him as he chuckled weakly. “You’re insane.”
Ambrosius hummed, lowering his head to press soft kisses over his chest. “If you’re still talking, then I'm not insane enough.”
“It was more than enough." He shifted, grimacing as Ambrosius’ soft cock slipped out of him. “Ah, haha— I-if this is the sort of treatment I can expect, maybe I should get caught in the rain more often.”
Ambrosius bit the skin just below his nipple, eliciting a sharp yelp.
“That is not the takeaway from this,” Ambrosius grumbled, quickly placing an apologetic kiss on the now-reddening area.
Ballister gave him a knowing look, and Ambrosius couldn't help but groan inwardly. One day, he’d need to learn how to resist Ballister when he fixed Ambrosius with those big, sad eyes, or he’d forever be doomed to be putty in the man’s hands. But that day isn't today.
Ambrosius leaned down and planted a final kiss on Ballister's perfect lips before standing up unsteadily, his fingers grazing Ballister's thigh. “Be back in a sec.”
Ballister grunted in acknowledgment, his eyes drifting close again.
Making his way to the bathroom, Ambrosius removed the condom and discarded it in the wastebasket. He then turned on the faucet and washed his face in the sink, waiting for the water to warm as he grabbed a hand towel. After wetting and wringing out the fabric, he returned to the bedroom and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, starting to carefully wipe away the sweat and fluid from Ballister's body. As he worked, Ballister let out a soft moan, sinking into the mattress.
Ambrosius’ heart swelled with affection. He loved seeing this side of Ballister—relaxed and soft and sated. He sometimes wished he could see him like this all the time if he didn't love seeing the fire of determination burning in his eyes even more. He just couldn't help but worry that one day the fire would burn so brightly he’d burn himself out.
“You know I’ll do whatever it takes to help you become a knight.” He waited until Ballister forced his tired eyes open and focused on him. “You know that, right?”
Pleasure dimming from his eyes, Ballister slowly nodded.
“Good,” said Ambrosius, dropping a kiss onto his chin. “So you'll call me next time you forget your umbrella, right? I wasn't kidding about the pneumonia thing.”
Ballister had the grace to look chagrined, reaching up a hand to caress Ambrosius’ cheek. “I will.”
Ambrosius smiled gently, even as part of him knew this wouldn’t be the last time Ballister pushed himself this hard. When it inevitably did happen again, when Ballister got lost in his training or his work reports, Ambrosius would still be there to take care of him, and he would do so eagerly. “I’m going to go take a shower,” he said, kissing Ballister’s palm.
Ballister hummed, nestling deeper into his pillow. “‘ might be asleep before you get back.”
Ambrosius couldn’t help but smirk. Perfect; he’d been half-afraid Ballister would still attempt pulling an all-nighter despite Ambrosius’ efforts. While Ambrosius couldn’t curb Ballister’s work ethic even if he wanted to, he still had his ways to gently nudge him into getting more than 5 hours of sleep a night. He felt confident that he could go ahead and mark that particular mission down as a success.
Ambrosius lingered in the shower, savoring the hot water running over his skin. He barely registered when Ballister walked up to the sink to brush his teeth, lost as he was in the sensation of the pleasure-pain singing through his spent muscles. He was absolutely going to be feeling this during morning drills at the academy tomorrow, and the thought sent a pulse of sated heat running down his spine. He could think of no better reason to push his body to the brink than for Ballister’s pleasure.
Ambrosius brushed his teeth and dried his hair before discarding his towel in the hamper and flicking off the lights. He slipped into bed, the sheets cool and silky on his overheated skin. Next to him, Ballister hummed, edging closer until his back was pressed against Ambrosius' front. With a contented sigh, Ambrosius wrapped him in his arms, placing a kiss on his delightfully cool shoulder. “You said you’d be asleep.”
A chuckle. “You almost sound disappointed.”
The throaty growl of Ballister’s voice shivered through Ambrosius, his cock half twitching with interest. He groaned, feeling like he was fast losing the plot here. Running his hand down Ballister’s side, he breathed in Ballister’s after-sex scent as he felt the rise and fall of his chest gradually deepen.
With his lips curling, Ambrosius let himself drift away.