Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Venti has been behaving oddly as of late.

Well, Venti doesn’t seem to have a very good understanding of what acting strictly ordinary is, but Diluc swears it's not that this time. 

It’s hard to pin down anything about this spritely little bard, his will and way of living as buoyant and flighty as the wind he used not to govern. But if Diluc had to hazard a guess, he’d say the odd behaviour started when he officially began allowing Venti to spend his nights at the Winery. More specifically: to spend them in Diluc’s room. 

Next to him, in bed. 

A rare moment of weakness and beguilement, soaked steadily in good spirits and better wine that had now caught fire and begun to spread. It was not something he would readily agree to sober, and if anything was just another testament to how much he despised alcohol, but there it was. 

To put it plainly… he had accidentally asked the mousey little bard to move in with him.

A little part of him hoped that Venti would brush the whole thing off as an empty promise made in wine, but no such luck. The boy had followed Diluc home that night-- embarrassingly much more sober than Diluc himself-- and had continued to come home every night since.

Kicking him out completely seemed a bit harsh even for Diluc’s standards (and it wasn’t as if he didn’t enjoy Venti’s company; Diluc would hardly be courting him if he didn’t)-- not to mention Diluc was indeed the one who proposed the idea, as Venti loved to remind him. But he also wasn’t about to get into the habit of freely renting out his home to the nearest Archon-turned-live-in-bard. So, he had put Venti to work around the house. 

And the very odd thing is this: Venti is good at it. 

Diluc had figured helping around the Winery instead of day drinking and songwriting would go a long way to improving the bard’s languid lifestyle, but he never could have predicted this. One early morning, before leaving for the day, he had simply yet sternly told Venti: “If you’re going to stay here, you need to at least start pulling your weight. I want you to help Moco and Hillie with their chores today. Since you obviously have the free time to spare.” 

The boy had characteristically griped and protested, still half asleep more than half naked in bed. But Diluc’s word was firm, and he expected a performance review from Hillie once he returned home. And receive one he did.

“How was he? Not too much trouble, I hope?” Diluc had cautiously asked when he hung up his coat that night. 

“On the contrary, sir! He finished almost every task before me or Moco!”

The look on his face must have been quite a sight, because the poor girl had to go and wake up the other maid to vouch for her. 

“Hillie seemed very impressed by your work ethic today,” Diluc remarked as he undressed for bed. “I shouldn’t have reason to believe you bribed anyone into doing your work for you, should I?

Venti scoffed dramatically, as if such a suggestion was unheard of. It was, in fact, very heard of, and he knew as much. “Shocking to see how little faith you have in me, Master Diluc! Everything was one hundred percent done by yours truly.”

“Forgive me if I don’t exactly believe you,” He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked his boots off.  “I didn’t even have to sweeten the pot with the standard bushel of apples or bottle of wine. You can’t blame me for being suspicious.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to prove it. Assign me any task you deem fit and I will see it done without fail.”

And like that it had continued. 

“Elzer is going into town today to meet with some benefactors of the guild. Go along and help him carry his scrolls instead of moulding the foyer couch to your shape, will you?”

“You aren’t busy, are you? Good. Go and see if Adelinde needs any assistance in the kitchen. And wear an apron, I’m not making her scrub wine stains out of your shirt again.”

That last suggestion had been the most recent. It’s late when Diluc finally returns to the Winery that night. The last few stragglers have successfully been ushered out of Angel’s Share, and his patrol-slash-walk home completed without too much incident. He’s all but forgotten about what he told Venti that morning, drowned out in the business of the day. Diluc opens the door and finds the atelier empty of maids, the few candles that Adelinde must have left on before retreating to her quarters for the night are nearly burnt out. 

At the dining table, fast asleep, is Venti. Diluc barely sees him in the dim candlelight. His head rests gently on his arms, a dinner for two prepared and, by this hour, gone cold. The slight twinge of guilt he feels quickly dies as his rational thought kicks in. He didn’t ask Venti to go and make him dinner, only for him to assist Adelinde if needed. He certainly didn’t ask him to stay awake until past midnight waiting up for him. He nudges Venti awake and the boy nearly falls out of his chair. 

“Hm? Diluc?” he blinks, the loss of balance rendering him startled. “What time is it? Did I fall asleep?” the words slur together drowsily. 

“Don’t force yourself to wait up for me when you’re obviously tired,” Diluc says without preamble. “Take a bath and get to sleep. I’ll clean up here.” 

Even half-asleep, Venti manages to pout. “Well, now who doesn’t know the value of hard work?”

“Excuse me?”

He stands suddenly, grabbing Diluc’s arm, though his grogginess nearly makes him lose his balance. “Miss Adelinde and I worked hard to prepare this. You’re not seriously going to let that go to waste!” Venti shakes his head sternly and guides Diluc to sit down at the table. Caught off guard by this sudden show of protest, Diluc allows it-- despite how ridiculous he feels. The stew in front of him is swiftly snatched away as Venti retreats to the stove in the kitchen. 

Exhausted, Diluc scrubs at his face. It’s true Venti had a talent for getting on his nerves before, but he can’t exactly decide if he prefers this new Venti, either. Largely speaking, it isn’t a particularly negative trait to have, it’s just that… Diluc isn’t sure what it is. He doesn’t know why the sound of Venti in his kitchen warming up his dinner makes his emotions all a mess. Diluc hardly even remembers to eat dinner most of the time. And he hasn’t exactly had someone to come home to in a while. 

The stew, when Venti finally returns with it, is piping hot and delicious. Diluc hadn’t paid much attention to the chill in the outside air, but now he’s thankful he has something to chase it away. He’s only aware of Venti staring at him when he’s a good three bites in.

“Go on, sing my praises,” said the boy with a wave of his hand. 

Diluc shut his eyes, not rising to the taunt. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m sure the only thing you did was gather ingredients while Adelinde did all the actual preparation.”

“For shame! I see you still don’t have faith in me,” Venti huffed. “I’ll have you know that I cubed the meat and braised it myself. I even added a bit of mint to the spätzle when Miss Adelinde was making it.”

“So that’s what’s different,” Diluc hums as he takes another bite. He had noticed a slight change in taste, but hadn’t attributed it to Venti’s direct involvement. To show his approval would be to let Venti’s ego win, so he doesn’t. “Adelinde’s version is the one I grew up with. She told me the key is to flash fry the onions right before plating.” It really is quite good, even if he and Kaeya ate it countless times when they were small. Every spoonful carries a bittersweet memory.

“I think my version is better,” Venti boasts, his usual arrogant self.

“It’s not bad.” Diluc grants him.

“‘ Not bad’?” 

They finish their meal in simple conversation about their days. Topics so mundane are typically something Diluc makes a habit of avoiding, but as he listens to Venti speak he finds himself oddly calmed. Before he knows it, he’s eaten two entire servings. He tilts the bowl to his lips to get the last sips of broth. 

Venti giggles at the sight. “Good, right? Aren’t you glad you have someone like me to remind you of the wonders a full stomach can do?”

Diluc, feeling warm from the meal and worn out from the workday, kisses Venti’s forehead in thanks when he takes both of their bowls to the sink.

The maids are beginning to talk. As much as maids do, at least. Which, granted, does seem to be quite a bit. Nothing outright, of course, but hushed rumors here and there.

They talk of how the bard Master Diluc picked up seems to be oddly skilled at a good many things. When Hillie tears her dress after it snags on a trellis in the grape fields, he overhears her griping about how much it’ll cost to fix and offers to stitch it back up for her. She watches him do so, sat on a bench in the shade, and listens as he claims to have learned from a tailor in Liyue a few years ago. 

“You must have learned pretty young then,” Hillie marvels. She doesn’t think much of the giggle that escapes Venti in response as he continues to sew. 

The meat for meals is typically purchased from the hunter’s guild near Springvale. Adelinde makes the trip a few times a week to see what they have in stock that day, and Venti has taken to keeping the maid company as she prepares meals. The strange little bard is more knowledgeable about cooking than she originally thought, and she can’t say she doesn’t appreciate the opportunity to speak to someone other than the other maids.

“I was planning a roast to thank the girls for all their hard work recently, but they were entirely out of fowl when I went this morning,” Adelinde sighs as she stirs the goulash she’s got on the hearth.

Venti frowns. “The guild is known for overpricing their products anyway, and for such subpar quality.”

“Even if that is the case, It isn’t as if I have many other options. It’s just the most convenient if I want to start dinner on time.”

A calculating look passes over the bard’s features as he sips his wine, kicking his feet lazily on the kitchen stool. Suddenly, he places the glass down after draining it, and tells Adelinde he’ll be back within the hour. She hardly has time to ask what’s gotten into him before he’s grabbed his bow and is out the back door. 

When he does return, it’s with not a small amount of fresh game thrown over his shoulder. Ducks and peasants-- he’s even managed to snag a crane. The supper is the talk of the maids in their little dining room that night, saying that they aren’t sure where this little bard came from, but they certainly hope Master Diluc keeps him around.

“And how are you on this fine autumn evening?” Kaeya’s chipper voice rings out over the chatter of the crowd as he takes his usual seat at Diluc’s bar. Angel’s Share is bustling; an impromptu closure of the Cat’s Tail for the night has sent everyone with a plan of getting drunk this evening through Diluc’s doors. This demographic, unfortunately, includes Kaeya, and the one-sided drinking buddy he’s made the quiet nun that sits next to him.

“What’re you having.” Diluc deadpans.

“I’m doing well myself, thank you so kindly for asking,” Kaeya continues, undeterred. “How is the missus?” 

Diluc stops. The wine he’s pouring nearly spills onto the counter. “What are you talking about?”

“Come on, the little bard you keep as a pet nowadays. He tells me so much about you when we share drinks.” 

Diluc’s eyes narrow to a sharp point. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he refutes, and it comes out sounding calmer than he feels.

Kaeya pouts. “I know we haven’t been on the best of terms these past few years, but to think you wouldn’t even send me an invitation to your wedding! Or, are you trying to keep it on the down-low, with how young he is?”

“I have other customers waiting, so if you would please get out of my sight.” Diluc cuts him off before he can say anything else, pushing the drinks towards them hastily and sloshing some onto the counter. He grabs a towel and focuses very hard on cleaning it up, hoping no one can see the way his face has colored. To Kaeya’s credit, he and Rosaria slink off to a far corner of the pub and keep to themselves the rest of the night. Diluc can only pray the curt conversation was lost in the noise of the crowd. 

As hard as he tries to forget the entire exchange, it forces itself into his mind on his walk back to the Winery. Even his usual vigilante activities don’t require enough thinking to properly distract him. And it’s infuriating, because for how stupid the phrasing of it was, he can’t confidently say Kaeya was particularly off the mark. 

Somewhere between falling into a relationship with him and moving in with him, Diluc’s feelings about Venti had shifted. He had willingly gone from a rowdy nuisance to performing better than some of the staff Diluc actually paid. ‘Impressed’ and ‘proud of Venti turning his behavior around’ was one way of putting it. 

‘Made all of Diluc’s rational thought go straight to his cock’ was another.

He couldn’t even scold him as he used to, because Venti wasn’t doing anything at all negative. This was an overall positive turn of events! It didn’t make it make any more sense, though. He resolved the best course of action was to simply stop beating around the bush and ask the other outright.

“Venti,” Diluc says that night as he closes the door to their bedroom. “Why are you so good at these things?”

The bard doesn’t look up from tuning his lyre by the window seat. “You’ll have to be more specific. Singing, songwriting, gliding?” Each word is accentuated with a pluck of string. Diluc has half a mind to be annoyed. 

“Homemaking.”

This gets Venti’s attention. “Oh! Yes, that. I’m not sure!”

“What do you mean you’re not sure?” Diluc lets his exasperation show only slightly as he unbuttons his shirt and folds it over a chair. 

“I mean that I’m not sure. Why are you asking?” Venti sounds disinterested as ever as he strums a short tune. Diluc exhales, forcing himself to not get heated and risk the conversation breaching something he isn’t ready to examine just yet. When he doesn’t answer, Venti frowns and continues with “Is it a bad thing? I thought you wanted me to stop lazing around so much.” The put-out tone of his voice is enough to engender the slightest sympathy in Diluc, and he sighs. 

The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of it. “No, It isn’t bad. It’s just-- you haven’t done this before have you?”  

The question was obviously not the one Venti was expecting, and he stops strumming. The lyre lands on a flat note that buzzes through the quiet room. “What? Settled down with someone?”

In for a penny, in for a pound. “Yes,” Diluc replies, small. He sits himself on the bed and pulls his hair out of its low ponytail, before he begins to weave it into the braid he usually sleeps in, for want of something to do with his hands. 

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy, Master Diluc?” Venti grins, and Diluc knows he’s trying to get a rise out of him, so he doesn’t grace him with the reaction. Even though his fingers fumble a bit in their process. 

Venti places the lyre to the side and goes to join the other on the bed. “Kidding, kidding, you’re so serious... though if it’s a direct answer you’re looking for… I’m afraid I don’t exactly have one. I’ve just been around long enough to pick up certain things.”

“It just... seems uncharacteristic of you, is all.” 

“That’s assuming you know all there is to know about little old me. Even I don’t know all there is to know about me!” With a signature flippancy, Venti flopped backwards onto the mattress. He doesn’t meet Diluc’s eyes when he speaks, instead staring at the ceiling with something resembling self reflection. 

“With my gnosis gone, I’m less of a god than ever. I’m still coming to terms with it,” Venti fiddled with his braids as he spoke. “Might as well take up some other hobbies in the meantime, no? It’s sort of fun to try new things. I was pleasantly surprised myself.”

“You weren’t much of a god in the first place, were you?” Diluc snorts, trying to steer the conversation back to more familiar waters. 

“I resent that.” 

He sighs, continuing. “Perhaps I simply enjoy the feeling of being sedentary right now. The life of the Anemo Archon is a vagrant and abiding one, never truly putting down roots. It’s nice to just exist in one place for once,” he finally meets Diluc’s gaze, eyes creasing at the bottom in a slight smile, and adds “with you.”

“I…” Diluc has to look away. “I see.”

Venti snorts, stretching his arms above his head and arching his back. “Is that all you have to say about it? Or have I rendered you speechless?”

Venti’s view of the ceiling is suddenly obstructed by a blur of red hair as Diluc’s hands bracket either side of his head. The expression on Venti’s face changes like a cold breeze has washed over him. Gone is the teasing look of before, replaced by wide eyes and a hasty promise of obedience. Diluc simply stares down at the smaller boy, drinking in the shift in energy. 

“You talk too much.” Diluc states.

“You asked.” Venti refutes.

“I know.”

A hand cards through Venti’s hair and the bard’s eyelids flutter shut against his cheek, tilting his head to meet Diluc’s palm. It’s not unlike a kitten, easily placated by a tender touch. 

“Come on, the little bard you keep as a pet nowadays. He tells me so much about you when we share drinks.” 

The connection makes Diluc’s heart falter just for a second, and he pulls his hand away, face hot. There's a shift in pressure, both on the mattress and in the air. When Venti blinks his eyes open at the loss of contact, Diluc is sat on the edge of the bed and decidedly looking away from him.

Venti rolls over in bed, hugging blankets as he goes and half-burying his face in a pillow so when he asks “Master Diluc?”, the words are slightly muffled. 

“I’m going to soak in the bath,” Diluc announces, clearing his throat. He’s out of the room before Venti can cheekily invite himself to join him. Venti’s eyes linger on the door as it closes, waiting to see if it’ll open again. When it doesn’t, he rolls fully over onto his stomach. 

With his eyes squeezed shut, he brings his own small hand to the place on his forehead that Diluc had so gently touched, but to his dismay, the feeling is hardly replicated.

Diluc finds himself feeling thankful for the late hour as he makes his way down the hall to the bath. The maids have long since retired to their own quarters by this time of night, which means he and Venti are likely the only people awake in the Winery.

He really should be more comforted by that fact than he is. 

The feelings currently parading through his mind are not ones he’s keen to dissect. It’s precisely the reason he makes the bathwater hotter than usual when he draws it. All Diluc wishes is to soak in the heat until his mind goes utterly blank, but as he undresses and finds himself half-hard, that ideal quickly dissipates with the steam. 

The hot water does at least remedy the ache in his muscles as he sinks into it, but like some young lad still grappling with his hormones, the relaxation only serves to worsen the aching between his legs.

Try as he might, Venti’s visage is glued to the inside of his eyelids. It’s the picture of him asleep at the dinner table, hair tousled and breath steady as he waited up for Diluc. It’s the way he stands next to Adelinde in the kitchen, the apron somehow fitting perfectly over his small frame. It is the way he finds himself distracted at work or on patrol or any second he’s not with him during the day, and how right it feels to see him when he opens the door to the Winery at night. 

“Welcome home! I’ve missed you, heheh. Don’t make me wait so long next time, okay?”

When Diluc’s hand eventually makes its way under the steaming water to grip his cock, he maintains his last shred of modesty by telling himself that it’ll only worsen if he pretends otherwise. 

He doesn’t exactly make a habit of taking care of himself this way. It’s even less common that he fantasizes about something when he does so. But the images of Venti that Diluc’s mind conjures up are hazy and soft, much like the boy himself, and he can’t help but succumb to their hold on him. Here, hidden in the steam of the bathroom, Diluc allows himself to imagine Venti not as the Archon he once was, but as the docile little thing he has since become.  

Venti, so sweet and pliant, waiting for Diluc to come home. Perhaps he’s helped around the house and is just starting dinner. Diluc would enter the foyer and wrap his arms around him, press a chaste kiss to the crown of his head, into his dark hair that smells like the soap they both use. Venti would giggle as he does, a sound that quickly turns into something much more wanting as large hands drag under his apron to his thighs. He’d make little sounds of feigned protest, something about getting caught, but would be unable to say much more as Diluc begins to palm between his legs at the same time his own hips press their way into Venti’s ass. It’s sloppy, hurried-- a product of a long day spent away from one another that Diluc is quick to remedy with something so tactless it could be called borderline animalistic.

“You have been the only thing on my mind since I left you this morning,” Diluc would growl into Venti’s soft neck, the frills of his apron brushing up against his cheek. 

“L-likewise,” would come Venti’s reply, only serving to increase the speed of Diluc’s thrusts, the rushed strokes of his hand on Venti’s cock. “Make me yours, I can’t wait anymore--” 

So Diluc would. 

Guiltily, he comes in his own palm with a strangled sound. Every muscle in his body seems to buzz as he strokes himself through the high, and only realizes he’s been whimpering Venti’s name when the cotton that fills his head subsides. Perhaps he is actually glad the staff is asleep. He doesn’t want to entertain the idea that they aren’t.

In the shame-ridden aftermath, he sinks deep underneath the water, and spends the next moments willing away any thought that dares make itself known. If he could stay beneath the water and simply fade away, he would. At least then he wouldn’t feel so reprehensible when he eventually slides into bed next to Venti, already asleep, and can’t help but selfishly wrap his arms around him.

Maybe in another life the Ragnvindrs had upset a god or two, because Diluc has never been able to sleep past five in the morning. 

It’s a small shame, because Venti is professional at the art of heavy sleeping, and sleeping long. Diluc has never known him to wake before noon at the least. But, like most things in the past month, Venti has a way of surprising him. 

“Good morning,” Venti says when Diluc shifts to get out of bed. “You’re up early.”

“I should be the one saying that to you,” Diluc responds. “Go back to sleep.”

“Mmn, I can’t.”

“And why is that?”

Without breaking eye contact, Venti cups Diluc’s hand in his own and brings it between his own thighs. A small ‘ah,’ escapes Diluc as he finds Venti’s cock fully hard. 

“You’re not late, are you? Could you help me out?” Venti purrs as he motions Diluc’s hand past the waistline of his trousers. 

“What’s gotten you so worked up?” Diluc asks, dipping further to slick his fingers before beginning to stroke Venti’s little cock lazily. He’s still groggy with sleep, and uncoordinated, but so is Venti, and he doesn't seem too concerned with tact at the present. 

Venti keens. “Maybe just the feeling of you beside me is enough to make my thoughts wander.”

Diluc is so much larger than Venti, and his prick is completely enveloped by Diluc’s firm hand. “Mmmh, hah, please,” Venti chirps, “please, more,”

“Greedy,” Diluc grumbles, and pinches at a pert nipple. Venti moans pathetically, a bit too loudly and Diluc’s heart jumps as he remembers, unlike last night, they’re likely not the only ones awake. 

Oh Archons, last night. 

“You’re too loud,” he warns, though he doesn’t cease either of his ministrations. If anything, he tweaks Venti’s little nipple harder in punishment, and the bard bucks his hips into Diluc’s fist. 

“I can’t help it… I love you, Master Diluc…” 

His breath catches, and they’re close enough that Diluc knows Venti took notice. “I love you too,” is all he can whisper back, and Venti feels like he’s being taken apart. He stutters his hips into Diluc’s fist and comes with a small cry. His breath comes in short gasps as Diluc works him through it, not relenting until Venti is soft again in his hand.

“Better now?” Diluc asks, and Venti nods sleepily. Diluc pushes Venti’s bangs out of his face in a small gesture of affection. There is shuffling around the room as Diluc changes out of his smallclothes and into a simple collared shirt and vest. Venti watches through hooded eyes that don’t hide the way they linger on the expanse of Diluc’s back as he dresses.

As Diluc is about to leave, Venti pipes up from under the blankets he’s swathed himself in.

“Master Diluc?”

Diluc pauses to look over his shoulder. “Bard?”

Venti smiles. “That’s for making me fall asleep to the sounds of you pleasuring yourself last night. Have a good day at work!” 

The maids downstairs exchange a look at the overheard comment, and then make sure to busy themselves with something so as to pretend not to see Master Diluc hastily making for the front doors, face aflame.

Chapter Text

Growing up as the only son of a noble family meant Diluc had always known he was eventually meant to marry an influential lass or lad and further the Ragnvindr line. He wonders if the former god of the wind counts as influential enough. Though knowing his late father… most likely not. 

The week comes and goes and not much else changes. He nearly drops a wine glass when Venti walks into Angel’s Share sporting one of Diluc’s coats, and then barely refrains from throwing that same glass at Kaeya’s head when he loudly points it out. Venti is still acting as he has been, for better or for worse. 

Work shows no sign of slowing with the annual Windblume festival swiftly approaching. Though he’s the farthest thing from being involved with the knights, he has still been running himself ragged preparing the tavern for the inevitable slew of drunken couples the festival is sure to bring out. On particularly late nights, Diluc sometimes takes to the spare room he keeps above Angel’s Share to lay his head. Last night was one such night, and he only managed to return to the Winery the next afternoon.

Almost immediately he notices that something has the staff in quite a stir. Phrases like ‘so convincing!’ and ‘wears it better than I do!’ buzz around the grape fields like crystalflies as he walks through. When Elzer chimes in with a ‘almost didn’t recognize him!’, Diluc knows he’s left Venti unattended for too long. 

“What’s this all about?” Diluc asks as he steps inside the foyer, searching for any sign of Venti, be it the bard himself or the havoc he tends to leave in his wake. The parlor is spotless as per usual, however, which really only serves to fray Diluc’s nerves further. Moco and a few of the other maids give a curt bow in greeting, though Diluc barely looks the part of master of the house at the moment. He’s slept in his clothes and obviously hasn’t taken the time to comb his hair out of a loose braid. 

Moco, as politely as she can, says, “I can iron that for you, Master Diluc!” referring to the wrinkled coat he’s holding. 

“Thank you, but I’ll handle it myself,” Diluc dismisses her. “Has something... happened while I was away?” 

The girl gives a tentative nod. “Ah, well, how should I put this…” she chews her lip, glancing back at the gaggle of maids behind her for assistance. One of the newer hires, a young, energetic lass pipes up. “It’s your friend! The little bard boy. He just looks so sweet in the uniform—“ 

As if on cue (and, knowing Venti, it probably was), the aforementioned little bard comes bounding out of the kitchen, dressed fully in a black and white maid’s garb. 

Frilled apron and kneesocks and all.

“You sir, are late!” Venti’s accusation is contrasted by the fact that he launches himself onto Diluc in a gust of wind the moment he sees him. The paperwork Diluc had been holding is one moment in his hands, the next flying around the room. The maids let out a collective gasp as they nearly collide with one another in an attempt to snatch it out of the air.

“Venti, I’ve told you not to use your vision inside.” Diluc sighs, forcing himself to keep his temper. If he lashes out now, the staff will think even less of him than they probably already do. 

Venti’s ankles are locked around the small of Diluc’s back, his arms thrown around the other’s neck, and Diluc is afraid Venti’s going to press his lips to his when he pulls away and pouts slightly. “Didn’t you miss me too?”

Diluc pries the boy off of him and plops him down onto the ground. “I was gone for one night, Venti. That aside, what on earth are you wearing?” 

“Like it? Adelinde had a spare in my size! I don’t want my good clothes getting dirty, after all.”

The outfit is, as previously stated by what seems like every Dawn Winery employee, extremely fetching on Venti. The dark color of the dress matches his charcoal hair, the socks perfect on his thin legs. Though the shoes have a slight heel, he’s keeping his balance remarkably well. He’s even tied white ribbons into his braids to complete the look. Diluc finds he can’t look directly at it for fear of being blinded by the pure kitsch of it.

Diluc rubs at the bridge of his nose, willing away the oncoming headache. “Okay, well, since you’re already dressed for the job, clean this up,” he instructs, motioning to the finance reports and trade deals littering the otherwise spotless foyer. “On your own. Everyone else has their own jobs to do that don’t involve cleaning up after your messes.”

It’s a not-so-subtle sign for the maids still standing around to stop dallying and return to their daily tasks. They’ll all chatter about it tonight in their quarters over supper, claiming bets about who was right about their master’s relationship with the bard. Diluc, trained in the art of repression all his life, does his very best not to think about it.

The midday sun, without clouds to defend from it, is turning what should be a crisp autumn day into something nigh unbearable. Diluc wishes it’d just fry the rest of his brain so he wouldn’t have to deal with what his home life has become. It’s strange to think that he even has a home life, but then what else would you call this thing between him and Venti?

He tries to take his mind off it by throwing himself into good honest work. Hitting something has always done wonders for his stress. Generally, he’d prefer it to be something of the Fatui variety, but hammering new trellises into the ground will have to do. Recent increase in Slime activity around the Winery has led to some of the vineyard being destroyed. Elzer and Hillie had been hard at work on rebuilding them, and were doing a fine job until Diluc dismissed them to accompany Adelinde to Springvale about an hour ago. 

Venti had been flitting around the house and Winery grounds all morning, the perfect picture of a dutiful employee. The girls all complimented him and thanked him for help with their chores, and Diluc was slowly reaching his limit. Some fresh air should help him hold it together.

Maybe a work uniform was all it was, he told himself as he worked. Diluc had never thought anything of the staff wearing such clothes. It was practical, and he’d never heard a complaint regarding the dresses. But seeing it on Venti, for some reason, made Diluc’s head spin. For some reason Diluc scoffed at the wording, you know damn well what the reason is. It’s the fact that you’ve become some sort of degenerate who can only think of the next time you can get Venti alone, beneath you, around you, your hands up his petticoat and

“Hard at work?” 

Diluc missed the pike and nearly hammered his fingers at the sudden sight of two large teal eyes peeking over a trellis.

Venti laughed. “Did I scare you?”

“No. I don’t get scared.” Diluc replied. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m allowed to be where I please. The wind does not decide where it ends up.”

“Spare me the proverbs. Were you not meant to be cleaning up the mess you made?”

“I finished that ages ago. I’m restless now. No one needs my help at the moment, so I came to see if perhaps you did.”

“Thank you for your generosity, but I’m fine.”

It occurred to Diluc that their current position must bring to mind the very image of a secret meeting between lovers. Each of them on a side of the vine wall, speaking in hushed tones… well, one of them was at the very least. The other made no effort to keep his voice down. 

The boy in question stuck out his lip and hooded his eyes. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were avoiding me.”

“If only your intuition was always that accurate, hm?” Diluc snarked as he squatted down to adjust the dirt around the pike. 

Venti mimicked the pose immediately. “Did I do something to upset you?” 

“No. Frankly I’m just… distracted.” Diluc replied, his gaze firmly focused on his work. 

“By me?”

“Hardly.”

“Don’t lie.” Venti smiled, a short exhale. “You shouldn’t work so hard if your mind is elsewhere.” The tone in his tone made Diluc meet his gaze on impulse. He immediately wished he hadn’t. Venti had folded his arms over his knees, his head tilted knowingly to the side.

“I’ve made do for this long, haven’t I?” Diluc replied. Though he still wished Venti would go and bother anyone else, he didn’t protest when small hands covered his own to help tamp down the soft soil. 

“Come on now, what’s bothering you so?” Venti asked. 

Standing back up, Diluc let out a sigh. “You know full well what’s bothering me. It’s a certain troublesome bard. Short, annoying, name begins with a ‘V’...”

Venti snickered, his hands folded behind his back as he leaned forward to meet Diluc’s downcast eyes. “Handsome, adorable, marvelously talented, recently very good at keeping out of trouble…” he continued the list the other had begun. 

Diluc turned away. “Why are you wearing that thing anyway?”

“Is that what this is about? Believe it or not, Adelinde really did scold me for getting my clothes dirty all the time. The constant compliments from the staff only sealed the deal. Though what I really want to know is what you think of it.”

“It… suits you.” Diluc said. It wasn’t a lie.

“So I’ve heard. I’m glad you like it.”

Venti had two hands pressed to Diluc’s chest, the latter with his back to a large tree. Like this, it was impossible for Venti not to notice the color on Diluc’s face. It hung thick in the air between them. Diluc made an obvious effort of not touching the smaller boy, and Venti doubled down on his assumption. “Maybe that’s an understatement, hm?” 

Diluc got timid when confronted with feelings, especially when Venti was the one doing the confronting. The bard could feel the taller man shaking slightly, and he had covered his face with his hand as much as he could. They were still relatively close to the Winery proper, and Diluc knew he should stop this. It was incredibly unlike him to act this way, but Venti stared up at him with dark eyes and Diluc swore he could see his own want reflected back in them. 

“You know, I find it very charming when you’re nervous. And all because of what I’m wearing. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“No,” Diluc said, and kissed him. 

And, though Diluc Ragnvindr had made a decent number of bad decisions in the past few years, the one at present was very much a contender for the pinnacle. They were in broad daylight for Archons sake, and the Winery was still very full of employees. Employees that could spot them at any time. 

To make matters worse, Venti began to run his mouth. “Kissing me is not an answer, Master Diluc. Are you really so persistent in not acknowledging this?” 

“And what would you call this?” Diluc retorted, mostly into Venti’s mouth.

“I’m… not sure yet.” Venti laughed to disguise the way his face warmed. “...but I know I quite enjoy it.” Diluc felt the warm breath against his lips. Venti smelt of fruity wine and a freshly lit hearth and comfort after a long day out in the world. When Diluc brought their lips together again he realized how, try as he might to deny it, kissing Venti in the Winery garden made him feel more than he figured he had in ages. 

His nerves felt aflame and he knew he had to be sweating through the heat of their kissing as well as the sun, but to stop now wasn’t something Diluc felt he could do. It was only confirmed by Venti keening, a soft sound pressed betwixt their lips like a song. 

Every thought that wasn’t directly related to getting Venti to sing like that again was swiftly discarded from Diluc’s mind. Against all better judgement, he trailed a touch from Venti’s arm to his waist, feeling himself go dizzy at the sound the boy made when Diluc squeezed at his ass. 

The idea of lacey frills underneath Venti’s dress was suddenly the only thing Diluc cared about.

A gloved hand dragged up the soft tulle of the uniform skirt, grazing petticoat and nearly reaching the top of stocking, the soft skin of Venti’s thighs until—

“Master Diluc?” 

All the blood that had previously occupied a very different part of Diluc’s body rushed back up to his head all at once. No sooner had he gained his bearings did he shove Venti off of himself without thinking about the force he put behind it. Luckily, Venti thought quickly enough to summon a small gust of wind beneath himself to soften his back connecting with the grass.

“Adelinde,” Diluc said, short of breath and visibly disheveled. “What do you need?”

The girl looked at Diluc, then at Venti, and then at Diluc again. Thankfully, if she put the pieces together, she said nothing. Diluc had the offhanded idea to give her a pay raise. 

“About the menu for tonight…” she began, but Diluc was too busy watching Venti as he headed back towards the main house, heels clicking as he went. 

Up to the start of dinner and then during, Diluc’s pulse does not ever fully stop racing. Venti was absolutely insatiable, and Diluc’s quick temper was very rapidly approaching a boiling point. 

It is when they properly sit down for dinner that it spills over. Every week, the staff is invited to spend supper with Diluc, a jovial, rancorous thing that Diluc does tend to find himself enjoying despite his general distaste for celebration or … jovialness.

Venti sits next to him. The staff chats about the day, breaking their usual properness to enjoy a meal well-earned and some downtime. The hall is boisterous and lively, but all Diluc can pay attention to is the shoe Venti has been steadily creeping up his calf. 

Diluc is good at holding his temper. Or rather-- he’s working on it. He only hits things when he’s exhausted all other options. He is the master of this house, sitting down for a normal dinner with his employees, who are all conversing and enjoying the meal, and he is fine. If Venti wants to act out then it isn’t Diluc’s problem. The trist in the vineyard was close enough, and if Venti thinks he’s getting a rise out of him, he’s wrong. 

...Correction: if Venti thinks he can get a rise out of Diluc quickly he’s wrong. It takes multiple agonizing moments of thinking of anything else before his forced concentration snaps. He pushes his chair out and stands, a bit too suddenly. Almost everyone at the table turns to look at him. 

“Are you alright, Master Diluc?” Hillie asks, making a move to get up. 

Diluc puts a hand up to stop her. “I’m fine. Just need a moment. Please don’t worry about me,” he reassures, and watches as most go back to their meals and banter. Diluc nonchalantly grabs Venti’s arm and pulls him up. 

“A word, please.” Diluc says in a clipped tone, and pulls Venti into the dimly lit kitchen. Venti stares at Diluc and rubs at the spot on his arm where Diluc had grabbed him. 

“You don’t have to be such a brute.”

Diluc glares at him, as if the way he handles Venti is remotely the problem here. “Stop it,” he bites.

“Stop what?” Venti has the gaul to reply.

Diluc presses a hand to the brick next to Venti’s head and leans close. “I’m serious.”

Venti holds his own, staring up at Diluc through long eyelashes. “It’s hardly my fault. You’re the one who’s so affected.”

The anger that has been stewing inside Diluc’s stomach spikes. He grabs Venti’s face with his free hand. The bard’s eyes immediately widen. “Not your fault?” Diluc snorts, “No one forced you into that dress this morning, did they?”

“Of course not,” Venti’s words are muffled from Diluc’s hold on his cheeks. “It’s to keep my good clothes clean, honest!”

“Don’t lie." Diluc repeats. “That isn’t the only reason. And someone should correct such provocative behavior. Am I wrong?”

Venti pauses, his resolve faltering for just a quick heartbeat. “You wouldn’t. Not where someone could so openly see us.”

“That didn’t seem to stop you in the garden earlier.”

Venti looks away, rubs his thighs together ever so slightly, and Diluc knows he’s got him hooked. It’s truly a sight to behold, the way Venti flips from so snarky to so pliant in just a few words. It gives Diluc a sort of high, the control he can have over him without doing much of anything at all. Honing into that rush, he continues, thumb and pointer still digging into Venti’s cheek.

“Well, if you’re so insistent on playing this role, find me here after the maids retire for the night. Don’t…” Diluc begins, then realizes what he’s about to say and pauses. He clears his throat and continues before he can think better of it. “Don’t change out of your uniform, but make sure not to let anyone see you come in. Do you understand?”

“Ooh, so many steps... are we stealing something again?” Venti returns with a quip, but Diluc can tell he’s joking to hide his apprehension. It was a habit he was very fond of leaning on. When Diluc glares at him expectantly, he swallows and nods, adding “Yes, I understand.”

“Very good.” 

For the remainder of dinner, Venti is visibly distracted. He trips up on words when he usually considers articulate conversation one of his strong suits. Diluc doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick in the direction of the kitchen once or twice. All the while, Diluc gets into a long, boring conversation with Elzer about soil acidification. From the way Venti looks by the end of dinner, Diluc thinks it’s a fair trade.

At half past midnight, the Winery is eerily quiet. The only sounds that can be heard are the trills of frogs and crickets from the vineyards, the occasional burst of laughter from the maid’s quarters. 

Diluc is late. Though that could very well be the intention, Venti muses. He leans over the counter, bored and a bit impatient, especially with the dampness between his thighs that has been present since they kissed in the garden. 

Truth be told, Venti hadn’t expected such a reaction to his outfit when he put it on this morning. He had been cheaply fishing for compliments from the staff, more than anything, as he felt lonely with Diluc gone all the time. It was nice to at least be paid attention to by the girls Venti had come to call friends at this point. 

It wasn’t that he needed Diluc’s affection and attention all the time. It was simply that he… preferred having it. At least some of it. When he did in fact receive it, in the form of kisses and pats and deliberate touches, it made it so worthwhile. So while Venti did truly enjoy busying himself with household chores, it was really the passing phrases of ‘the foyer looks spotless’ and ‘dinner was great’ and mostly ‘you’ve really improved, I’m impressed’, that Venti longed for. It made his heart soar higher than even the strongest gust of wind could take him. 

Venti squeezed his legs together at the memory, his heels clicking on the floor as he shifted his weight. To just be this to Diluc, never have to worry so much about anything… he let the thought wrap around him and stay there, feeling warm. To be loved and treated with the utmost care, venerated. Venti didn’t mind giving up godhood if the replacement was worship at Diluc Ragnvindr’s hands. 

All he could hope was that Diluc felt the same. So hard to read sometimes, that man. Still… it was worth it for the way he saw himself in Diluc’s eyes. A stoic, brooding brute though he may be, Venti could feel the way Diluc wanted to protect him, to want to hold him close for fear of Venti slipping through his life like a warm breeze; and at the same time, the way he covered his heart with distance and work like that same heart didn’t ache to return to Venti nearly all the time.

“Something on your mind?” 

Venti’s eyes snapped open and he immediately straightened at the sound of Diluc’s voice. “Just you. You sure kept me waiting long enough that I guess it was the only thing my mind landed on after exhausting all other options,” Venti sighed longer than needed. 

“That’s good to hear,” Diluc replied, letting Venti’s attempt at snark fizzle out as he stepped towards the smaller boy. “I must say that most of my thoughts for the day have in fact been occupied by you.”

“So you admit it!”

The air in the room shifted as Venti allowed himself to be trapped between Diluc and the countertop. Diluc allows himself to be honest, for the day’s commotion has very obviously worn him down. “Only you could find a way to make something so mundane so distracting.”

“And perhaps it isn’t the dress you’re drawn to but the person wearing it?”

“I’ve already said I like you in it.”

“I know. I wanted to hear it again.”

“Yes, yes, you’re very pretty. Like a picture.” Diluc concedes, though the phrase makes Venti look away suddenly. 

“What?” Diluc asks, something creeping into his voice.

“It’s nothing.”

“You like it. Being called pretty,” Diluc continues with a very motivating sound from Venti’s throat, “Such a pretty boy.”

“Stop,” Venti gasps.

“You don’t want that. You want attention. It’s the reason for this entire thing.”

“I’m lonely without you.”

“Oh,” Diluc breathes, a realization tinged with sadness. Suddenly it all makes sense. He can’t fault Venti for such a thing. He is the one currently courting him, and it is only reasonable that he would require some of the things couples usually do. Diluc realizes all at once that he has been a rather shoddy lover, and then is hit with the even stronger desire to do better.

“Let me make it up to you, then.”

Venti swallows and nods, letting Diluc dip down and capture his lips in his own. Venti was bracketed between Diluc’s warm body and the countertop cool stone countertop. He dragged his hands over the expanse of Diluc’s chest and situated them at the nape of his neck, dancing light touches through his hair before finally undoing Diluc’s hair ribbon.

It wasn’t often that Diluc let his hair down. Whenever Venti asked, he claimed it was much easier when it was out of the way. Venti had the idea that he enjoyed having it absentmindedly played with, but couldn’t bring himself to say so. 

Diluc’s own hands busy themselves with exploring the expanse of uncharted territory under Venti’s petticoats. His skirts were light and airy, like his own element, and bounced when he walked. It was hard not to stare. Likewise, it was harder still not to allow his thoughts to get away from him. Now though, with the two of them alone, Diluc indulged those forbidden desires.

“I’ve been wondering…” A hand trailed up Venti’s leg, bunching his skirt up. Venit made a soft noise—not exactly an endorsement but not exactly a protest either— when Diluc’s fingers brushed against the lace and tulle of his white undergarments. A thin garter connected them to his frill-tipped stockings, and the whole ensemble made Diluc’s mouth go dry. 

“I guess I was right, wasn’t I?” Diluc laughed. “I should have expected such, you’re recently trained in the art of not doing things halfway after all.”

“I wore it for you,” Venti said, head tilted down as he started up at Diluc with those wide blue-green eyes.

“I know,” Diluc said through a small smile. “Up.” And then Venti was hoisted onto the counter like he weighed absolutely nothing. It only served to excite him more. His hands continued to grope around under Venti’s skirt, touches just light enough for Venti to try and get more, only to be denied.

“Eager, aren’t you?” 

Despite himself, Venti nodded. 

“You’ll get your reward, only if you’re patient. You were quite the brat at dinner, even if you were simply missing me.”

“I… I know...” Venti replied with all the shame of a child being scolded for misbehaving. 

“You’ll be good now though, won’t you? Don’t make a sound, and I won’t have to stop. Diluc said with lips against Venti’s neck. “Pull your skirt up.” 

Venti did as he was told. The hem of the dress he held between his teeth for convenience, though the way Diluc’s face changed when he did was an added bonus. He fisted his hands in his petticoat and exposed lace and garters. 

His small cock strained beautifully against the delicate fabric of his lingerie. Diluc palmed at Venti’s erection through it a good few times, testing in a way if Venti really could stay as silent as Diluc had asked. He sucked in a small gasp at the first touch, followed by tiny choked whimpers that he forced down his throat. By the time Diluc had found a rhythm, Venti was shaking and breathing heavy, but was, as he had promised, silent. 

“There’s a good boy,” Diluc whispered as he continued, “Disciplined when you want to be, aren’t you?” 

Only when it benefits me, Venti wanted to retort, but instead pursed his lips tight. Though Sevens above, this certainly counted as a benefit. 

After a few more minutes of painful teasing, Diluc’s mouth leaving marks on Venti’s neck while his hands busied themselves with every kind of touch imaginable on his poor sensitive cock. When he finally pulled the underwear down to free Venti’s cock, the challenge of staying quiet became damn near impossible. With the way Diluc thumbed at Venti’s leaking slit, the featherlight way he traced his finger up the underside of his length, Venti was sure he was going to scream. 

Tears welled in the corners of his eyes and his panting became more uneven. Still, he kept silent, and Diluc kept his end of the bargain, and continued. “We’ll have to curb this bad habit soon,”

Venti’s eyes shot up in question. The hem of the skirt between his teeth was soaked with drool at this point. Diluc’s hand pumped Venti’s cock as he held his gaze. It was doing things to Venti’s heart, the way Diluc made it so effortless. 

“You’ve done well to fix so many of your vices. It’s very admirable. Though,” Diluc paused, his hand stilling. “I can’t have the whole city thinking my wife is a common whore, can I?

It is a gulp of cold air after treading water. Venti bucks his hips up desperately into Diluc’s still palm, trying to ride out the orgasm that had just hit him harder than ever in his very long time on this earth. 

Wife.

His wife.

That was it. The exact feeling Venti had been searching for. When he came back down, he found himself babbling, his own spend all over Diluc’s hand as well as his petticoat. “Diluc, Diluc, Diluc…” he heard himself saying. He quickly brought a hand to cover his mouth, remembering the deal. 

“I’m sorry,” Venti said through his palms. 

To Venti’s surprise and probably Diluc’s own, the taller man laughed. “It’s alright. You said most of that into my neck. Uhm, are you alright?”

“More than,” Venti slurred, still dazed. “Take me upstairs now, okay? I need you,”

“Right. Yes.” Diluc said after a minute of taking in just the state Venti was in, and then scooped him up in his arms and made for the staircase. 

The ascent up the stairs was a rather loud one, but for once Diluc didn’t exactly care if the maids heard or not. He didn’t think he could be deterred if the whole world heard his clunky bootsteps up the staircase, Venti needed him. All he could think of was that fact.

They fell onto the mattress, Diluc nearly toppling over onto the smaller boy. He giggled from having the air knocked out of him, still punch-drunk from the moment before.

“Such a brute,” Venti repeated, a small breath against Diluc’s cheek. 

“Sorry.”

“No you aren’t. And I don’t care. Please, take me?” 

Diluc did as he was asked. Though he felt slightly bad for ruining the wondrous image that was Venti in this outfit, he also wanted proper access to the soft, sensitive skin below the dip of his collarbone. The zipper at the back of the dress slid down and Venti sighed as the top of the dress was pulled lazily down to expose his shoulders and chest. 

“Venti,” Diluc said after a second of staring, “What is this?”

“Hmm?” Venti hummed as he opened his eyes and followed Diluc’s gaze. “Oh. I had forgotten about that!” 

The question of how he had forgotten the lacy little bra he was wearing didn’t quite make it out of Diluc’s mouth. Instead, he made a rather terrible noise that bordered somewhere on the line between surprise and surrender. 

“Oh,” Venti noticed the rapid change in color on Diluc’s face. “Is it… do you like it?” he breathed through a smile. 

The sudden collision of their lips was answer enough. Diluc brought two hands to stroke at Venti’s sides, thumbs gliding over the dips in his ribs before settling on his chest proper. It wasn’t as if Venti had anything to fill it out, but still the bra looked perfect on him, pressed tight against his skin. Diluc squeezed at it anyway, and Venti gasped, arching his back in a perfect curve. 

Diluc’s deft hands continued to grope at Venti’s chest as his mouth sucked pretty purple bruises onto the fair skin of his neck, before eventually ending up beneath his collarbone, mouthing at small nipples through the gossamer of the bra. 

“What a perfect little wife,” Diluc said when he took his mouth away to look up at Venti. The bard could make fun of catching Diluc off-guard all he wished, the look on Venti’s own face was not all that composed, either. “You’ve dolled yourself up so nice for me.”

“It feels so right,” Venti said.

“What does?”

“T-to be that to you.”

“I’m… relieved.” Diluc admitted, sitting back up and pushing Venti’s skirts aside again. In the same way, he slid his own pants and shoes off, while Venti watched patiently.  “I want that with you. I want to keep you.”

“Oh, and I think I want to be kept by you. Gods, it feels good to say something like that aloud. It’s so… new!”

“It’s… good, though?”

“Very good. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would.”

Once again, Diluc moved Venti with ease, positioning him comfortably on the myriad of pillows. He made sure to situate an especially soft one underneath Venti’s hips before pushing up the petticoat more. Like this, Venti almost disappeared beneath all the fabric, so small was he. But he could still watch Diluc’s every move with wide eyes, and, more importantly, Diluc could have proper access. 

“Look at you,” Diluc said as he drew himself out of his trousers, “You’re so obedient. So domesticated.” Venti clenched down around Diluc’s fingers at the choice of word. The slow in and out of Diluc preparing him was getting too much to bear. He had been dripping wet since what felt like hours, and his cock still hadn’t faltered from his previous orgasm. 

“Stop teasing,” Venti complained, Diluc now easily three fingers into him, “Hurry up already…”

Diluc retracted his fingers and Venti groaned louder at the loss. “Maybe you haven’t been domesticated enough just yet.” 

A sudden fear shot through Venti, that Diluc would be cruel enough--or at least, petty enough-- to leave him here just like this. “No, no, I--” Venti began, supporting himself on his elbows and meeting Diluc’s eyes, “I’m good. I can be… patient.” It sounded more unsure than he meant, but who could blame him, compromised as he was. 

With a hum, Diluc turned back to line himself up with Venti’s hole. Using Venti’s thighs for support, he pulled the smaller boy to him. Venti leaned back again, so quick to be put in his place. “I know you will be,” Diluc said with a kiss, and pushed inside. 

Venti did his best to relax, and soon Diluc had fallen into a steady rhythm, fucking shallowly into the boy. His firm hands gripped Venti’s thighs, just underneath the bend of his knee. He could almost get his fingers to touch around Venti’s small legs. Every thrust was met with a squeak, Venti’s eyes were shut tight as he clenched his jaw.

 Diluc slowed at the sight. “Does it hurt?” 
Venti shook his head quickly. “I’m, ah, trying not to… I don’t want to finish again too quickly…”

“Oh,” Diluc responded, and, like any sensible person, took it as a challenge. 

He quickened his pace, making sure to hit the sweetest spot to be sure Venti saw stars. Tears blossomed in Venti’s eyes. “So m-mean!” he stammered. 

Diluc laughed low in his chest, and promptly bent over to at least press an apologetic kiss to the side of Venti’s face. Despite the protests, Diluc knew Venti could hold out. He had more endurance than should be possible for someone so small. Diluc pressed their lips together again, swallowing Venti’s sobs with his tongue. Then he moved down his jawline, biting at the marks he had previously left. 

“If I were to touch you right now, would you be able to hold back?” he asked against Venti’s skin. 

“I… I…” Venti hiccuped, “I don’t know.”

“I think you could.” 

“M-Master Diluc--”

Strong hands found Venti’s cock again, and squeezed lightly. Venti gave a small cry, tears leaving beautiful marks as they glided down his pink cheeks. “I-- I can’t…” 

“You will. You’re such a good little wife, Venti. Do you want to finish with me?” 

“I do!”

“Then just wait a bit longer.” Diluc replied, and snapped his hips up, making Venti sob. It was the best punishment he could conceive of, crying on Diluc’s cock. Venti would wait however long it took. 

“Will you… will you finish inside me?” Venti begged, his arms around Diluc’s shoulders, his legs locked around his waist. “Please, I want you to…”

Diluc made a sound he wasn’t entirely proud of, and bottomed out inside Venti. His movements were sloppy, much more so than he usually ever allowed himself to be. It was like that with Venti, he had a way of making him a fool. 

“You want that?” Diluc asked, finally remembering how to form words. “For me to mark you like that?”

“Please!” Venti cried into Diluc’s shoulder, his view of the ceiling blurred by so many tears, “Please, Master Diluc, please… I want to be with you forever. Let’s be a family, please, please…!”

“Gods, Venti,” Diluc groaned, and with a few more rough thrusts he’s finishing inside Venti. He can feel Venti tighten around him in the precious few moments before he hits his climax as well, whimpering Diluc’s name with a voice like the sweetest harmony.

A long moment passed with just the two of them breathing. Eventually, and very slowly, Diluc pulled out from inside of Venti, causing the other to whine at the oversensitivity. That or, the fact that the sheets are nearly soaked now, from Diluc’s spend leaking out of Venti combined with his own slick. 

“Venti…” Diluc finally said. He’s attempted to sit up but Venti has clung to him tightly, and shows no sign of letting go. The space in between their bodies is a complete mess. 

“Mmm…” 

“You’ve made a mess yet again. Clean it up, won’t y- argh!” Diluc yelled as Venti sinks teeth into his shoulder in defiance. 

“Why did you do that?”

“Couples are supposed to… to work together.” Venti mumbled sleepily. 

Diluc gave a tired snort, unable to prevent himself from finding it the slightest bit endearing. “I suppose... that is true. Come on, then. Together.”

Diluc is down in the maid’s quarters requesting a spare uniform for Venti when Adelinde spots him. His explanation, of course, does not include the fact that the previous uniform is currently hung up to dry after a thorough hand-washing from Venti on account of their activities. Adelinde helps locate the size Venti wears, and after the two of them exchange their usual smalltalk, Diluc is about to head up the stairs, but Adelinde stops him. 

“Master Diluc?” the girl calls from behind him. 

“What is it, Adelinde?”

“I just wanted to say… I know it isn’t really much of my business, but, we all are glad Venti has stuck around.” She gives a small smile, and continues “He seems to make you very happy.” 

“Ah,” Diluc says, caught a bit unaware. “Yes, I’m glad as well. Have a good night, Adelinde. Get some rest.”

“You too, Master Diluc!”

Diluc, for all he values his privacy and modesty, can’t stop himself from smiling as he walks up the stairs.