Chapter Text
His first sexual experience was at fourteen.
It was an older boy from mandatory warrior training, a boy who liked to bully Zeke for being weak and slow and stupid. Klaus was bigger than most of the other boys and stronger as well, in the latter half of puberty with his body filling out with muscle, while Zeke was still skinny and small.
It was after training finished and they were heading home when Klaus tripped him and shoved at him roughly behind one of the buildings, where none of the instructors could see. Magath may be strict towards Eldians, but even so, he wouldn't tolerate bullying if he saw it.
Klaus knocked his books out of his hands, and when Zeke bent down to pick them up, he pushed Zeke into the dirt as well.
"What do you need books for? You're fucking stupid anyway."
Zeke grimaced, his uniform now covered in dirt, and pushed himself back up, saying nothing. There was blood on his knees. He was used to this by now, an under-achiever in every aspect. But no reaction would bore his bullies eventually.
Klaus didn't allow him to get up, grabbing at his hair and pushing him downwards into the dirt again.
"You're dead last at running drills and at written tests too because you're a retard."
Zeke attempted to pull his hair out of his grasp, gritting his teeth. Maybe Klaus was in a bad mood today; Magath had been particularly harsh. But Klaus' grip tightened, twisting roughly, and pain shot through Zeke's skull as he cried out weakly.
Klaus wrinkled his nose at the sound, sneering at the wavy platinum strands looped through his fingers. "What's with your stupid hair anyway? You think you're a fucking prince or something?"
The blond swallowed, fighting back tears, his hands trying to pry Klaus' away from his scalp. Klaus jerked his hair roughly in response, and Zeke whimpered, biting into his own lip.
Prince. Ha. If only he knew.
"What's wrong, crybaby? You gonna cry like a fucking fag?" Klaus' expression twisted into a deeper sneer, digging his fingers in. He seemed to study the wavy strands for a short second, the softness only irritating him more. "Fucking pretty boy." The words were muttered under his breath, spit into Zeke's face, as if the thought disgusted him. "You're always crying like a fucking girl and you even look like one too."
Zeke's fingers scratched at Klaus' hand, digging into the skin. His scalp was burning. He mouthed something hoarsely, forcing his voice out.
"Huh?" Klaus jerked at his hair again. "You wanna say something, girly boy?"
"I said, I'm not a girl...!" His voice trembled, tears spilling out before he could do anything to stop them. "Let go...!"
Klaus laughed cruelly, in that way only children can, watching the tears slide down his cheeks. He seemed to search Zeke's face, as if he wasn't even sure what for. His smile dropped as Zeke just cried silently, face scrunching up helplessly.
"Yeah, you are." His voice sounded different than before, lower, but Zeke was only fourteen and didn't really know why. "You're a little girly boy."
Klaus jerked him forward by his scalp towards the front of his uniform pants and Zeke cried out, eyes opening. He scratched at Klaus' hand in his hair, looking up into his face in confusion, tears ruddying his cheeks.
Klaus' pupils were dilated, shiftily checking his surroundings before unzipping his fly.
Zeke had seen other boys' penises when changing clothes or at the public bath, but never like this. He was bigger than Zeke, a darker colour, stroking himself as he pulled himself out of his underwear.
He pulled Zeke forward by his hair and forced his head down, telling him to suck it or he would beat him up and break his arm.
So Zeke obeyed, trembling.
The tears were sliding silently down his cheeks when his mouth closed around him. He licked awkwardly, unsure of what to do, and Klaus scowled and kicked him in the side, pulling at his scalp. His other hand held Zeke's jaw firmly in place so he wouldn't move or bite down, guiding him to bob slowly up and down. Zeke was too cowardly to try something like biting, but Klaus didn't know that.
Zeke will never forget - the memory still rises in his mind occasionally even more than a decade later. The moment when Klaus cradled his jaw almost gently, and when Zeke looked up at him he heard him mumble, "S'fucking pretty," sliding his fingers over the tears on his cheeks.
Zeke felt his own cock twitch inside his pants.
Then Klaus' breath hitched and he came all over Zeke's face.
There was a silence after that, the sound of birds cawing and Klaus panting, taking a moment to collect himself. Zeke erupted into coughs as Klaus finally let go of his hair, and he keeled over, spluttering and gagging onto the dirt. He panted weakly, squinting up at Klaus and coughing again, his lips bright red and swollen.
Klaus looked alarmed, breathing heavily as he stared down at Zeke with wide eyes, at his white uniform caked with dirt and blood, his blond hair ruffled and wet with sweat, cum splattered over his angelic face.
The boy swallowed, wheezing, and fumbled with his zipper, fingers trembling. He muttered something quickly before shoving Zeke to the ground again, snatching his bag and stumbling away hurriedly, out from behind the buildings.
Zeke stayed on the ground for a little while, looking down at himself, the heavy, sick feeling sinking in. His knees and scalp were stinging and he swallowed the lump in his throat. He touched his face hesitantly, the stickiness that clung there, and he felt tears well up and lips tremble at the feeling of utter shame. He fumbled in his pocket mindlessly for his handkerchief to wipe desperately at the cum on his face.
He finally picked himself up from the ground, legs stiff, dusting off his grubby uniform awkwardly. He didn't have a mirror and he hoped he had cleaned his face properly. His grandma would scold him for his dirty uniform, so he needed to make up a story, beginning the walk home.
He pulled at the fabric over his crotch uncomfortably, toes curling in his shoes and a flush spreading over his cheeks, deciding right then that he would wash his own uniform himself.
The inside of his pants were sticky, having cum in his pants at the same moment Klaus had released on his face.
Zeke met with Ksaver about a week later as he always did, throwing the baseball back and forth.
"I think I like boys."
Ksaver blinked, looked mildly surprised and amused, adjusting his grip on the ball before throwing it back.
"Oh? Do you have a crush on someone?" Ksaver smiled easily, eyes crinkling. "A boy from training, maybe?"
Zeke's cheeks flushed pink and Ksaver chuckled. He thought of him as his own son and couldn't be happier that Zeke trusted him enough to tell him something so personal, flushing with pride. He would support and love him no matter what.
Zeke fiddled with the ball in his mitt. "He's older than me. I... I touched his..." he fumbled, pausing, embarrassed to say the words out loud. He mumbled it softly, speaking to the ground rather than Ksaver. "He used my mouth to... you know." He flushed darker, winding up and throwing the ball without looking properly. "I've never done anything like that before."
Ksaver almost tripped over his own feet as he lunged to catch the ball, eyes wide in surprise. He straightened up and rolled the baseball in his glove, adjusting his glasses. Zeke was only fourteen still. Of course, he knew children would find a way to experiment no matter what, but couldn't help but feel Zeke was much too young. He swallowed, clearing his throat awkwardly. He said he was an older boy. "Zeke... did you..." Ksaver was aware of how Zeke was treated by his peers, the bullying he received. "...He didn't make you, did he? Because that's not okay."
Zeke looked up at Ksaver, then at the wall behind him, the vines creeping up slowly as if to swallow it whole. He thought of Klaus and his strong shoulders, how he had shot up in height recently all of sudden. He thought of how it felt when Klaus cradled his jaw with his hands so warm and called him pretty, before pulling his hair, kicking him in the side and shoving him face-first into the dirt.
Zeke stared at the ground instead of at Ksaver, nails digging into his palm.
"I wanted to."
Ksaver swallowed.
He knew how starved Zeke was for attention, how hard it was for him to say no, how easy it would be for others to emotionally manipulate him. His chest felt tight, a desperate clenching that he needed to protect this fragile boy, but knowing there was only so much he could do before his 13 year lifespan was over.
So Ksaver nodded slowly, throwing the ball back to him.
At eighteen, Zeke sat up in the bed staring boredly out the window, at the ships drifting past in the harbour. He struck a match and lit his cigarette, not bothering to cover his naked form.
The muscular man next to him in bed leaned back with his hands behind his head, a twisted smile of pity on his lips.
"That was your first time? That's pretty fucked up."
Zeke snorted, blowing smoke out of his mouth. "Tell me about it."
He turned towards his bed companion, hooking a leg over his hips and climbing onto his reclined lap, taking another drag from his cigarette.
The man, Jannik, wasn't Eldian, but he wasn't Marleyan either, so he supposed that's why it didn't matter they were sleeping together, although they weren't advertising it. If they had noticed, his Marleyan superiors had never said anything. It probably also helped that Zeke wasn't a woman and there was no chance of pregnancy; of bringing a pitiful half-Eldian child to this world of pain and suffering.
Jannik was an engineer from a neighbouring nation, probably more than ten years older than him. Zeke wasn't really sure though, nor did he particularly care. He had dark hair and blue eyes, a strong body and huge dick. That was enough for Zeke.
Jannik smirked, hands on Zeke's thighs to hold him in place, eyes raving over his body. Zeke loved to be looked at like that. Like he was something to desire.
"I think it was the praise." Zeke leaned over to the nightstand where his glasses rested neatly, tapping his cigarette into the ash tray. "He called me pretty. I wasn't used to people praising me like that." He pushed a hand through his messy locks, out of his face. "I liked it."
Jannik hummed, his large, warm hands sliding between Zeke's legs, firm strokes that made his spine go taut and legs tremble. "Mmm, you would like that." He smiled, kneading Zeke's thigh with his other hand. "You should see yourself when I compliment you while fucking you. You make this face... and you cum so fast. I barely even touch you."
The blond grimaced, bringing his cigarette to his lips. "I don't think I would want to see that."
The older man chuckled, sitting up abruptly and making Zeke's eyes go wide in surprise. He balanced him with hands on his waist, kissing Zeke's neck and putting a large, warm hand around his jaw.
Zeke physically shuddered, toes curling. He loved it when they put their hands there, held him in place, like a collar, like they owned him.
"It's the daddy issues," Jannik teased, fingers reaching further back between Zeke's legs, circling languidly and pushing into the slick; warm and wet from where he had finished just minutes before.
Zeke snorted, leaning his head back and exposing his neck to the older man's teeth, the blood pulsing in his ears.
Grisha's voice calling him a good boy invaded his mind, but he shut it down quickly, moaning as Jannik's fingers found his prostate and rubbed, pushing him onto his back.
Zeke lay there, cigarette resting between his teeth, as Jannik pressed wet kisses slowly down his chest, down further to where his cock was slowly rising in interest.
At eighteen years, his dick had a mind of its own, eager for pleasure even if his brain was not. He swallowed the lump in his throat and pulled his forearm over his eyes, as if to hide from himself, from his own thoughts.
He moaned again as Jannik's lips closed around him, his own lips twitching into a humourless laugh.
Daddy issues.
And in his mind, Grisha laughed at him too.