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It was rarer and rarer lately that the Knights, much less the Adventurer’s Guild as well, allowed themselves a moment to truly enjoy themselves in celebration—but festivals were the rare sort, and after ensuring the safety of the city at large on the last night of the Windblume Festival, it could safely be said that everyone was cutting a little loose.
Ironically enough, it’s one of the few nights of the year where Kaeya couldn’t allow himself to relax and have some fun, despite how he may have been sipping at his drink and keeping an eye on his fellow knights for most of the afternoon; the Captains rarely indulged in the festivities, and Kaeya was no exception to that. When everyone in Mondstadt was off their guard, it made their responsibilities a little more pressing.
Their own perseverance certainly wasn’t sobering any of the others in the Angel’s Share that night, though—including the selfsame bard that had been so… kind as to offer his advice and tutelage on poetry so far. Really, it wasn’t a terrible surprise to know that the Anemo Archon himself was drinking himself into a half-stupor among his people—though admittedly, the flush of warmth across Venti’s face as he played his latest tune was the result of drinking so many glasses of wine that night that it would kill most normal men.
Kaeya had been counting. He was on his twelfth glass, and that was the strong stuff, too. The stuff that made Kaeya wobble a little on his legs by the time he started his fifth. Even on the one glass he’d been nursing all night, it had his cheeks a little warm and his collar a little loose, but Venti’s giggles were echoing through the tavern in such a clear bell of a sound that he didn’t even come off as drunk. Really, he seemed tipsy, at best, though Kaeya couldn’t help but find himself amused for wherever this was going.
If worse came to worse, he could always just live vicariously through their local bard, after all.
As the song came to an end, Kaeya lifted his glass, his own echo of the applause that echoed through the room for the former Archon. “Another one for Master Venti, on my Mora,” Kaeya announced, pleased to see that Diluc was likely off managing something else in the Dawn Winery’s business rather than tending the bar for the night. Charles was much more likely to indulge in Kaeya’s whimsical little fancies of getting Barbatos drunk as a skunk, but Diluc?
Well, Diluc would have read too far into it. He would have been too wary of his intent, especially with how content Kaeya had been to sit back and watch from afar for the entire night, his sole visible eye agleam in the dim candlelight and lanterns of the tavern.
His generosity, however, was not missed—or forsaken, it seemed. The minute Six-Fingered José took up the attention of the crowd, letting Venti take a break, the more popular bard had slipped into the shadows… right up to Kaeya instead, who despite his dramatics, had managed to stay out of the public’s attention for most of the night. “I’m told that this is courtesy of you?” Venti hummed, lifting the glass in hand.
“I can only claim responsibility for that one,” Kaeya answered, leaning back in his chair to observe the other. “You’re plenty popular enough here tonight to have the rest paid for by other parties.”
Brazen, either from a lack of reservation or from the fact that no one else was paying them any mind, Venti offered Kaeya a smile in the shadows of the tavern, and shifted forward to sit himself right against the man’s thigh, using Kaeya as a seat rather than bothering to wait for any of the other various chairs in the tavern to open up. It was a packed night, thanks to the festival—but that also meant that such a bold gesture was that much more likely to go unnoticed. Kaeya quirked a brow, keeping up his facade of indifference with room only for the passing amusement. “You must be quite tired on your feet to think that I’m a suitable chair.”
Venti paused in thought, and shamelessly, he reached back to run his fingers up the outside of Kaeya’s thigh. “On the contrary, it looked like you were a far more comfortable chair than anything else here. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Who would I be to refuse you, of all people?” Kaeya countered, tilting his own drink to his lips. “I am but a humble mortal, after all.” His words made the bard go still for a moment; perhaps he wasn’t quite used to people so shamelessly knowing his secret, and being so willing to call him out on it—but if Kaeya wanted to play the sneaky game of mentioning such things indirectly and in passing, Barbatos could very much do the same.
“I didn’t take you for the reverent type,” Venti countered, setting his glass aside to instead set his palm against where Kaeya’s uniform hugged his waist. Thanks to that gift from the gods hanging at Kaeya’s waist, he ran a little colder than most people that Venti had casually made contact with since he’d woken up from his extraordinarily long nap; it made the former Archon want to warm him up. “But then again, I didn’t take you for the poetic type, either, and yet you excelled so well in my course.”
There was something unspoken in Venti’s gaze, but Kaeya knew well that the twink in his lap knew far more than what he ever let on. Every God did; it was practically in their job description, he considered. But Venti set his cheek against his shoulder, peering up with a catlike look of mischief still, and Kaeya couldn’t help but wonder if he had indeed had too much to drink.
“I’m good friends with a nun,” Kaeya countered, a half-smirk plucking at his own lips. “Perhaps it some of her devotion has… rubbed off on me.”
“I don’t think the friend in question is terribly devout herself. I’ve heard what she’s muttered under her breath when all of the other Sisters are praying,” Venti teased, his fingers dropping from Kaeya’s stomach down towards his hip—that daring little motion alone enough to make Kaeya think that perhaps their little bard had had a little bit too much to drink after all. Playing around like this meant things were a little more dangerous—Venti’s lips were a little too loose. Kaeya didn’t think it would be particularly beneficial for the people of Mondstadt to learn that their precious God was little more than a local lush, wiling away his hours in the Angel’s Share so soon after their country had been tormented endlessly by a one of their former protectors for so long.
“I think you’ve had a little too much, if you’re going around telling a Sister’s secrets,” Kaeya hummed, setting his hand firmly at Venti’s back, as if he was fully prepared to shove him off of his lap—but made no such notion. “Let’s get you home, where do you stay?”
Venti only laughed, close to Kaeya’s ear, soft and full. “Wherever the wind leads me. And tonight, I think it’s blowing in the direction of your apartment.”
Shameless thing. Then again, Kaeya supposed he would be shameless too, if he was finishing off both a thirteenth glass—the one that Kaeya had bought him—and a fourteenth after that. Kaeya watched him with no shortage of skepticism as Venti placed his empty glass down and took what little was left of Kaeya’s Death After Noon and downed that as well.
“Are you sure you want to go there?” Kaeya asked, lifting a brow as his free hand tilted forward to take Venti’s chin, making the bard look at him directly.
“You aren’t as inconspicuous as you think you are, Sir Alberich,” Venti hummed, eyes half-lidded and lips impishly curled. “But I’m not afraid of you, no matter how intimidating you think you are.”
“Do you think you have a reason to be afraid of me?” Kaeya asked, his mask never faltering—Venti’s one mistake in taking his drink was the fact that the God now had his full attention because of it.
Venti shifted slowly in his lap, tilting his weight as he slipped one leg backwards so he could properly straddle Kaeya’s thigh, tilting his stomach up to press fully against Kaeya’s, leaving nothing but their clothing the distance between them. “I think you overestimate yourself and underestimate me. I think you’re being defensive because you’re afraid to get close—to me, to religion… to anyone in Mondstadt, really.” His grin broadened a little, because he could feel the way Kaeya went tense under his relaxed frame. It was motivation enough to continue. “You try to keep yourself separate because you’re afraid of what might happen…. But do you really think you would have thrived so much in Mondstadt without my blessing, Kaeya? Do you think you don’t have it… or that I haven’t had my eye on you for a while?”
He had purred Kaeya’s name. The Cavalry Captain’s breath caught in his throat. Venti had been vague enough to make him wonder just how much the Anemo God knew about him—about Khaenri'ah. Still, his breath smelled like sweet wine and sweeter lies and really, Kaeya didn’t want to see just how involved the Archon had been with his life in Mondstadt. He didn’t want to know how many mistakes might have been overlooked, or how many times he might have been perceived as a real threat.
“You can sleep on my couch, but if we’re going to continue this conversation, it should probably be while you’re more sober,” Kaeya finally relented, setting his hand on Venti’s hip before using his grasp to guide them both to stand.
“Such an act of kindness begs for seduction and finesse,” Venti hummed aloud, as if both disillusioned by Kaeya’s stern refusal despite his attempts—and unconvinced that he’d failed in his endeavors just yet. Kaeya only lifted his hands carefully off of the smaller body, gesturing to the door.
Six Fingered José could handle entertaining the tavern for the rest of the night. He had a tipsy Archon to god-sit away from making any more foolish declarations.
---
The trip to his apartment from the Angel’s Share was, if nothing else, at least mercifully short. Venti only nearly nose-dived into the planters once, to his credit—and Kaeya wasn’t entirely sure that that hadn’t been an excuse to make the Cavalry Captain catch him. He lingered with his face pressed into Kaeya’s chest a little too long afterwards, after all.
There was probably some judgment in the back of Venti’s mind, Kaeya was sure, at seeing how sparsely decorated his apartment was. For someone who had enjoyed the extravagance of the noble lifestyle in his youth, Kaeya did… not put much effort into maintaining a presence in his own home. Maybe it was easier that way, after being cast aside twice. There was less to miss.
If Venti did, though, the bard said nothing of it. Instead, he waited until Kaeya had locked the door, tossed off the protective garb that connected to the half-cape of his uniform, and grabbed a spare blanket to toss on the couch before he made his move again. Venti’s footsteps silent as he crossed the room and very carefully wrapped his arms around Kaeya from behind.
“Let me stay with you tonight,” Venti whispered, his voice barely above a breathy coax. Kaeya could feel it warm through the fabric of his shirt, just under his collar. He must have been standing up on the tips of his feet to let his words travel that far. “Allow me to show you how much Mondstadt really does love you.”
“Are you saying you’re Mondstadt itself, now?” Kaeya questioned as he turned, watching how all of the finer features of the god seemed to glow alight with the same soft color as the magic that ran through him. Venti didn’t move his arms, though—and now that Kaeya was facing him, it was the perfect opportunity to set his chin on that lovely chest and let his fingertips wander a little further down towards the curve of his ass.
“I know Mondstadt inside and out. I know how valued you are by its people. I know what you deserve,” The hand not quite as enamored with copping a feel of Kaeya’s ass had traveled up, his palm cupping Kaeya’s chin as his thumb brushed brazenly against his lower lip, tugging it down to admire the fullness of it. “Didn’t you say recently that your mouth feels lonely? I’ll keep it occupied.”
“You really do eavesdrop on everything, don’t you? Do you spill everyone’s secrets before you’ve had your fill of wine, too?”
“That’s not an answer, Captain,” Venti replied, pouting into his collarbone, before sneaking in a subtle kiss. “Very few people can say that they’ve caught the attention of Barbatos himself. Some might even consider themselves honored—but I think I like you most because you won’t say that at all. Let me have you, and I’ll be at your beck and call.”
Kaeya didn’t miss the lyric behind his words, but he doubted that it was a promise that Venti would remember keeping when the morning sun’s rays dawned over the end of the Windblume Festival. And yet, it wasn’t the promise itself that made him feel like, for the first time in years, he really was wanted in Mondstadt.
“You’re awfully confident in your ability to a handle me.” Kaeya pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the thumb that had played across his lower lip—open mouthed and suggestive as his lips pressed to the pad of it, sucking slowly at the bare skin of his thumbprint. Venti’s smile grew. If he had considered Kaeya uninterested before, it certainly proved otherwise.
The breeze that swept them both up should have been impossible behind closed doors—certainly, if nothing else, it should have torn Kaeya’s meager apartment to shreds with the force of it. It shouldn’t have picked Kaeya off of the ground and set him down as if he were feather light on his bed in the next room over before he could make head or tail of himself.
Venti lingered over him now, the twin braids at his chin glowing with the effects of the magic, and his lips spread into such a wide grin that Kaeya couldn’t help but feel like he might be taking advantage of a particularly silly drunk—or that one was taking advantage of him, given the brush of Venti’s thigh pressing down against Kaeya’s crotch. His hands settled up to his shoulders, pinning Kaeya down while he looked entirely too proud of himself.
Kaeya, however, couldn’t help but be a bit surprised by the way that Venti shifted and moved to part his thighs a little further, fingers working open the clasps of his attire. “You plan on being on top?” He asked, because he clearly hadn’t expected someone that level of cutely flirtatious to not at least plan on riding, given how forward he’d been.
“Only the worst kind of fool would not take full advantage of an opportunity to be between these thighs, Kaeya.”
Maybe he had misunderstood Barbatos entirely. Kaeya was starting to realize just how intense his mixed feelings were about how his body responded to the way Venti said his name. Everything from the soft pulse of warmth that slid down to where Venti’s thigh nudged in a slow grind against the rising swell of the bulge in his pants. No matter how much Venti had had to drink, either, every move seemed to be made with clear, purposeful intent—all the way down to Venti’s fingers dragging up the inside of his thigh to cup him, instead.
“You don’t seem to be complaining,” he added, leaving his palm there for only a few, precious seconds—as if appraising his reaction, before both hands set their deft fingers to work at stripping the Cavalry Captain down. Kaeya could hardly fault him for the skill in those hands—not only could they play seemingly whatever instrument the other tavern-goers put in his hands, he was undoing his uniform with so much familiarity that it was as if he himself had put it on Kaeya in the first place.
According to Venti’s claims in the tavern earlier, perhaps he had. In a way.
“No, not complaining. Consider me surprised you don’t want me to worship you, however indirectly it might be,” Kaeya countered, gaze dropping across the slender curve of Venti’s own frame. If he thought the sass was anything other than amusing, Venti didn’t show it—he didn’t have to. Kaeya’s shirt fell open under him, with the careful fastens that kept it in place with his pants coming undone. Though he was an artist of music rather than paint, the gesture gave the Archon access to the lovely canvas of Kaeya’s chest fully bared. It was a sight that he set immediately to sullying, soft lips pressing a kiss to his clavicle—given that Kaeya’s lips were a little harder to reach if he wanted to keep teasing him—before they wrapped wholly around one dark nipple, tongue flicking it in a way that drew a soft gasp from the Knight under him.
A thumb hooked in Kaeya’s pants, and he was finally given some relief from the constant pressure of Venti’s thigh against the outline of his cock in his pants. It was short lived, given the adjustment was solely so Venti could work down the fabric over his thighs, moving just enough to kick it down Kaeya’s calves for him. Kaeya was barely given the time to slide the trousers off before Venti did the same with his underwear and the bard’s own pants as well.
Then, like a curse or a blessing from the god himself, that bare thigh returned and encouraged Kaeya to move against it with a slow rub there.
It was not Kaeya’s proudest moment, but desperate for more of that friction, he rocked his hips up—rutting against Venti’s leg while the bard’s too-talented lips worked his other nipple up to the shape of a soft, swollen little pebble under his affections. He could feel the Archon hard against his hip, and… well.
Maybe he had underestimated his potential size, given how petite the rest of him had been.
“Do you have something to help with this?” Venti asked, as if he hadn’t just left the shine of a shameless amount of saliva on one of Kaeya’s nipples. Kaeya, throat dry, swallowed hard as he parted his thighs for the Archon, feeling one of his exploring fingers nudge carefully at the tight ring of his hole. Kaeya swore he heard Venti snicker when Kaeya went tighter at the thought of a dry fingering.
“Bedside table,” Kaeya rasped, unaware of just when he’d gone a little hoarse from the Archon playing with him. Venti reached out, fishing around until he found an oil that he recognized as one to sooth old scars; after hundreds of years, it seemed people were still fully content to use it beyond its intended purpose.
“Keep your legs parted, just like that,” Venti coaxed, finally sitting up straight with his knees tucking under Kaeya’s thighs, eyes half aglow as he up-ended the bottle of oil, watching the dull, golden liquid spread over Kaeya’s cock, dripping in little rivers lower, sliding against his sphincter. Here, Venti’s fingers stopped it form dipping any lower, pushing the excess into him and coating them to press in at the same time. As determined as he was to prepare him, there was no ceremony to it. Venti derived pleasure not from the act of making sure Kaeya was ready—only from the sight of his slender fingers coaxing deeper into him and spreading. Opening Kaeya bit by bit, as if he could peel away everything else that he was hiding—and for Kaeya, it certainly felt like the Archon could with those fingers alone.
It was a show that he enjoyed so much that he barely noticed the way Kaeya ached only inches away, one hand reaching back to grasp his own headboard as Venti’s fingers brushed his sweet spot once—and then again in delight at the way it made Kaeya moan. Like music to his ears, just the right tune. Fortunately, that was what drew his full attention, and Venti pulled back to replace his fingers with his cock, which could only be neglected for so long.
His gaze flicked up, and as he rolled his hips forward, he settled his hands on either side of Kaeya’s chest. “I love you, Kaeya,” he whispered, his grin suggesting that he didn’t mean the words in every way a mortal might say it. He was delighted enough at the way that it made Kaeya squeeze him in surprise, his entire body almost tensing as his heart skipped a beat.
“You’re drunk,” Kaeya accused, his words punctuated by the soft, sharp exhales that lust had reduced him to. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
“Mm, you asked if I was Mondstadt—but I know it like the back of my hand. I can speak for it. I mean it. I love you, Kaeya. We love you.” His knuckles reached up to brush down Kaeya’s cheekbone, brushing slowly down his cheek to his chin. It was obvious why Kaeya had told him not to say it again; his body went tense every single time Venti repeated it.
It had been so, so long since anyone had told Kaeya that he was loved.
It was emotional over-stimulation—perhaps cruel, but Kaeya’s eye was so much prettier now that Venti could see the shine of almost-tears in it. And it made him feel that much better on his cock, too. Kaeya’s lips parted again, as if he was ready to protest again; Venti bent his legs high enough up that the bard could reach his lips, and he kissed him flush against them, using that new position to drive himself in a little deeper, too. “I love you,” he repeated, softer now, against his lips before kissing him again. He could feel it when the tears brushed against his own cheek, too.
Yet Kaeya never pushed him away. He never stopped him, not when one of Venti’s hands slipped down to take advantage of the oil he’d left on Kaeya’s arousal, too, stroking him slowly in tune with each deliberately slow roll of Venti’s hips. He wasn’t moving quickly—Venti wasn’t impatient, and he was far more determined to go deep enough that Kaeya would never forget what it felt like to have him so close to his core.
No, Kaeya’s fingers found their way into pressing against Venti’s back, encouraging him deeper, closer, as if the last thing he wanted was to be left alone in a world where no one would tell him he was loved again. The sound of his orgasm was carried on the melody of a wordless sob, with Venti tilting to kiss his tears away, before dipping his head into his shoulder. The bard buried a soft cry in the marks he made there, just as he buried himself into him fully to finish, shivering like a leaf in his own wind as he filled him—going so far as to slide his hand down Kaeya’s stomach to press down there, making the Knight that much more aware of the sensation of being filled.
Cum or love: Venti would gladly spoil him with both, whether Kaeya had anticipated either when he’d agreed to take the Anemo Archon to his bed or not. He had neither in short supply, and now that he had the Cavalry Captain reduced to a mess beneath him, he had all the time in the world to play.