Chapter Text
It’s burning.
She doesn’t know how else to describe this sensation—this fire that rips through her, blazing hot and furious in her veins. Her clothes are stifling; she can feel them cocooning her, threatening to strangle her alive as the flames flicker, pooling molten in her belly.
Kazuha is still talking, waving his hands animatedly as he goes on about feudal lords and wars and the end of the imperial dynasty—while she does find his insights fascinating, right now she can barely concentrate, the wooden table between them the only thing keeping her upright.
Her fingers are curled around one of its sturdy legs, digging into the smooth surface. Kazuha is smiling, and she can’t seem to tear her gaze away from him, distracted by the lovely curve of his lips, by the mirth shining clear and bright in those ruby eyes.
“W-Why are you here?” she blurts out in a desperate attempt to distract herself. There’s a keen ache blooming within her, though what she wants she isn’t sure herself—the need gnaws down to her very bones, guts her open and flips her inside out. She feels like a stranger in her own skin.
Kazuha blinks. “Why?” he echoes, tipping his head quizzically to one side; she nods, clenching her kimono. She can almost feel her nails ripping through the fabric.
“The—I was told that you already paid off… your debts.” She stumbles over her words, her eyelids fluttering as a wave of heat sweeps through her, threatening to drag her under. She just barely manages to pull herself together. “Which means you… you can leave, right?”
“I can.” He doesn’t seem surprised by her condition, conversing as though everything is perfectly normal. She doesn’t know how to feel about it—on the one hand, she’s grateful he isn’t drawing more attention to her current state of being, but… “It doesn’t mean I have to. Mora is not the only thing that matters in Teyvat.”
She frowns, puzzled by his cryptic words, but she’s in no condition to decipher his meaning, and all thought of unravelling his intentions disappears when he leans over to cup her face between his hands, holding her still. “It appears that you’ve become quite uncomfortable,” he says, and oh, his voice—
“Kaedehara—” she starts, but his thumb dips, sweeping over her bottom lip, and she promptly stops talking.
His fingers feel cool against her heated skin; when he presses down she responds immediately, her lips parting to allow him into her mouth. Her tongue sweeps across his thumb, tasting hints of salt, and though some part of her is horrified by her inane behaviour, the rest of her is too distracted to care.
“Call me Kazuha,” he says, low and sultry, and she nods, still sucking on his thumb. He pats her indulgently on the head before pulling away, but before she can mourn his withdrawal he rises to his feet and walks around the table, settling beside her with a grace that seems almost inhuman. “Do you trust me?”
She ought to say no. She barely knows this man, even if he’s a koushi and one of the most elite courtesans in this teahouse. What does she know of him besides his rank and his name?
But his gaze is piercing, and she swears she can see herself, a shimmering mirage reflected in those beautiful eyes. She thinks she might be drowning. “Yes,” she whispers, and Kazuha grins, a smile that borders on wicked.
“Then I will teach you everything you need to know.” He leans in, whispering in her ear; his breath washes over her skin, warm and sweet, and a shiver runs down her back. “Close your eyes and listen to me.”
She obeys, wondering what he has in store for her. Several seconds pass and all she hears is quiet rustling, almost overshadowed by the roar of blood in her ears.
Then something smooth slips over her eyes and she tenses, unsettled by the foreign touch. “Kaede—Kazuha,” she corrects herself, her heart stuttering at such casual intimacy. “What are you doing?”
“Shh. Trust me,” he coos, and she gasps when his breath flutters against her neck. He presses his lips to her bare skin right afterwards, and this time she moans, the softness of his mouth a sharp contrast against the harshness of his grip, his fingers curling tight into her kimono. “It will make you feel better.”
She doesn’t doubt him. He had already kissed her before this, but just now, the brush against her neck, that was—she gasps again when he tugs on her hips, pulling her onto his lap, flush against his chest. “It’s been some time since I last bedded a virgin,” he says, and she flinches as he nips at her ear. “I might not be… gentle.”
“Kazuha,” she says, her nerves resurfacing, warring with the molten heat in her belly. She squirms on his lap but he holds her down, preventing her from getting away. “I-I’m scared.”
“Safe word.” His lips glide, dropping kisses over her bare shoulder. His other hand tugs at her kimono—she can feel his impatience in his grip, in the sharp edge of teeth on her skin. The heat stirs. “What’s your safe word?”
“W-What is a safe word?” she asks, cut off by a whimper when his free hand drops on her stomach, sliding down to the apex of her thighs. She’s still wearing her kimono, but the weight of his palm through the satin, his breath in her ear, the warmth of his body, the hardness she feels against her back—
“Something you say if you wish to stop.” His hand darts down her collar, smoothing over her underclothes. She sucks in a breath. “Because if you don’t use it, I won’t stop. I’ll have you writhing on my lap, pinned to the floor as I take you, your tight little pussy fluttering around my cock. I’ll fuck you so good, you won’t come for anyone other than me.”
She shudders, taken aback but also intrigued by the filth he’s uttering in her ear. It's at odds with his usual refined image—when he rolls his hips against her, his fingers finding her nipple through her thin underdress, she cries out, shocked by the lightning that whips through her, searing her down to her fingers and toes.
“You like that, don’t you?” His laugh makes her tremble, her thighs unconsciously rubbing together in search of friction. “You like dirty talk. You like it when I touch you this way.” He tugs at her nipple and she flings her head back, arching up into his palm. “Archons, you’re sweet. I want to be inside you so bad.”
It’s a complete change from how he was like during their previous encounters. She never thought him capable of such depravity, but she doesn’t mind, overwhelmed by the desire in his voice—she helps as he takes off layer after layer of her clothing, and it’s not long before she’s almost entirely nude, clad only in her innermost underdress.
Her blindfold is still on and she can’t see a thing, but even so, she can sense his gaze upon her, heavy and wanting—she shivers, instinctively reaching up to wrap her arms around herself, but his hands catch her, fingers wrapped tight around her wrists. “I didn’t give you permission to hide.”
Then the world tips over and the floor is suddenly flat against her back, the grooves in the wood digging through her thin underdress. He’s heavy on top of her, and the space between her thighs throbs; she bites back a whimper. “Safe word, sweetling,” he says. “What’s your safe word?”
“Viatrix,” she gasps out. The name of her clan hangs between them, stern and disapproving—a word she doubts she will ever blurt out amid the throes of passion. Kazuha’s grip tightens.
“Viatrix,” he repeats, and there’s something in his voice, a weight she doesn’t quite know how to read. It unsettles her, but before she can say anything his lips crash into hers and she promptly forgets what she was trying to say.
She feels his hand drop between them and suddenly her dress falls apart, thin layers sliding down her body—cool air kisses her skin and she lets out a whine, embarrassed despite the need simmering within her. “How pretty,” he says, and she jolts when his fingers brush over her bare waist. “And to think that you’re giving this all to me.”
“Kazuha?” The moment his name leaves her lips he kisses her, and she moans into him, instinctive. His mouth is far from gentle—he’s all teeth and tongue, fierce and demanding. If she was more lucid, she might have felt some degree of shame, but as she is now she can barely conjure a coherent thought, overwhelmed by his proximity.
When he parts from her, she feels like she has just resurfaced from underwater, her head spinning as she tries to regain her bearings. Kazuha has lifted off her entirely, and she sits up, arms reaching out as she searches for him; there’s a quiet laugh, and then his fingers are dancing along her shoulders, sliding slow down her skin.
“Do you miss me already?” His voice is lilting, and when he takes hold of her hands, she doesn’t resist, allowing him to pull them behind her back. “You’re like a baby bird. You need so much attention, but I don’t mind that. It’s cute.” As he speaks, something soft wraps around her wrists, and her eyes widen behind her blindfold.
“What are you doing?” she asks, frozen and unsure while he fiddles with the bindings.
“Just trust me,” he answers and doesn’t elaborate. “Lift your arms, but keep your hands behind your head—ah, yes. Exactly like that.” She can feel him winding the rope around her torso, looping over her breasts, and while it isn’t uncomfortable, she still feels a little nervous.
A few minutes later, Kazuha finally lets go. “All done,” he murmurs, his lips moving against her neck. “You look so lovely like this, sweetling. It makes me want to commission a portrait of you, bound and helpless.”
“Please don’t do that,” she says. Her voice wavers, and he laughs, lowering her gently back to the floor.
“If you insist.” He’s settling between her legs, hands landing on her thighs; he spreads them apart and her breath catches. “Now tell me, sweetling. Have you ever touched yourself before?”
“Touched… myself?” she echoes, confused. Her body feels so hot, a gnawing ache crystallising somewhere low in her belly—his fingers walk across her inner thigh, and the delicate brush makes her shudder, makes her yearn for something she can’t quite name. “I don’t understand.”
“Yes. Here.” She stiffens when she feels him there, dexterous fingers gliding along her folds. Without warning, he pulls them apart, baring the most private part of herself to him—a strangled sound leaves her, half gasp and half wail, and she’d be more embarrassed if not for the way he begins circling her, around that protrusion she’s never really given any thought to before.
His touch lights up parts of her she’s never known existed. It feels like tiny fireworks setting off inside her, bursts of heat and excitement that have her squirming, not knowing if she wants him to come closer or pull away. “I see that you have not,” he notes, another finger now flicking back and forth over her core. “So sensitive.”
“K-Kazuha,” she cries, flinching when his fingers slide deeper; a gentle, probing touch that briefly dips inside her. The knowledge makes something twist in her belly, liquid flame dripping honey-smooth through her veins. “This—too much, please, I want—”
These sensations are too sharp, too new. She doesn’t know how to handle them, so she just sobs, whatever words she wanted to say blurred into an incoherent jumble.
“Archons, I’ve barely even touched you.” He sounds surprised, but she can’t bring herself to think about that, all attention fixed solely on the hand between her legs. “You really want this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whimpers. “Feels empty. I want…”
“Then listen to me, sweetling.” His voice is close now, issuing from somewhere beside her head. She squeezes her eyes shut despite the blindfold, breathing heavily, willing herself to focus. “I want you to count for me.”
“Count… count what?” She tries to move her hands, instinctively wanting to reach out, hoping to anchor herself amid all this turbulence, but his bindings hold tight and she doesn’t shift an inch.
“You’ll know.” He kisses her, his tongue darting inside her mouth for a sweet, fleeting second. “You’ll know what to count when it comes.”
Then his hands grasp her thighs, forcing them further apart, and her mind stops working when his breath grazes her core, warm and delicate and—
His tongue. It’s soft and wet and when it glides over her like that, she swears she can see, blinding white flickering behind her closed eyelids as he sucks her into his mouth. She ought to feel ashamed—it’s so unclean, yet here she is, allowing him to do this—but she feels too good to care about how distasteful this must be.
Kazuha never lets up, not even for a second, and it doesn’t take long before her body grows taut, teetering on the edge of—of something, she doesn’t know what. Her breath is frozen, gathering in her lungs, and she knows if she tries to move now, she might just shatter.
Then he sucks once more on her stiff nub and everything unravels, the tension snapping through her body like a broken bowstring—she nearly convulses, wave after wave of pleasure lashing through her as he switches from his mouth to his fingers, circling her throbbing core. “What’s your count, sweetling?”
“One,” she cries, understanding exactly what he wants from her now. “One.”
“Good.” He shifts upwards, kissing her again, and she can taste herself on his lips. Tangy and unfamiliar, the gesture sends heat rushing to her cheeks, the lewdness of it mortifying and intriguing in equal measure. “You’re a quick learner, aren’t you? Now, don’t forget to count every time you come. I don’t want to remind you.”
From that point on, she loses track of time. Kazuha alternates between using his fingers or his tongue; sometimes he uses both, and those moments are when she almost cries, her body spasming from his touch. He never lets her rest, not even for an instant, and after a while, she can no longer tell if she’s sobbing from pleasure or pain.
Still, she keeps his warning in mind, calling her tally despite the tears in her eyes, the hoarseness of her throat. She doesn’t have too much trouble at first, but once her count slips into the double digits she begins to stumble. It’s burning, she’s burning, and he’s still sucking on her—on her clit, that’s what he said it was called. Then a slender finger curls inside her again and she twitches, too weak to do anything more.
She’s so wet. Everything is wet and slippery, her arousal cold on her skin. Kazuha presses his lips to her clit and groans, sending tiny vibrations up her body—another tear rolls down as she once again tries to close her legs. It’s a futile attempt, but if she lets him continue, if she doesn’t try to stop…
Will she die? She thinks she’s dying. She’s come for him over and over, and her mind is blank now. A plain white canvas, an aching void that begs to be filled. She wants him so badly. “Count, sweetling?”
“I…” She can’t breathe. “I don’t know,” she says, and she barely even hears herself. “I… I don’t know.”
He pauses at that, the first time in a long while, and she almost cries from the much-needed reprieve. “You don’t know?” he echoes, and she nods, desperately hoping that he will let her go.
She’s lost. Their game is over. There’s nothing left to do now, is there? And she hopes her wishes will be granted when Kazuha moves, his body pressing warm on top of her as he shifts upwards—
“I’m disappointed.” His whisper reminds her of silk, its brush soft and gentle against her ear. “Such an easy task, yet you still can’t fulfil it properly. Don’t you deserve to be punished?”
The apology spills before she even has time to think. “I’m sorry!” she sobs. “I’m sorry, I’ll do better, please—”
He shut her up with another kiss and she arches into him, more reflex than conscious thought. Every part of her feels stiff—she doesn’t think she’s ever been through a more strenuous ordeal, yet at the same time she feels alive, her body hot, her skin flushed. Her core is trembling, her legs so sore she wonders if she’s still able to walk.
“Lumine.” He says her name against her mouth, and she blinks, startled by the sudden address; that moment of surprise is all the warning she has before his fingers—not one, not two, but three—sink into her sex. She throws her head back, overwhelmed by the stretch, by the slight burn as she struggles to accommodate him, but there is no time to recover as he begins to slam his palm against her, the wanton sounds of her need filling the room.
Everything is lightning and heat and pleasure that borders on pain. Her clit is throbbing, and she cries as her sex clenches, forcing out more of her arousal. “You’re so wet,” she hears him say, a distant voice floating down from high above; tears are staining her blindfold, and her safe word seethes on the tip of her tongue.
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out, struggling against her bindings the best she can, trying to edge away from his hands. But he doesn’t let go, doesn’t relent in the slightest, and inevitably her climax is cresting, fierce and wicked—she knows she can’t succumb to it, not again. “Kazuha! Don’t! I’ll die!”
“Oh you won’t, sweetling. I know you can do this.” His mouth grazes her cheek; she can feel his lips curving up as he continues to push into her. “You’ve been so good and lovely today. Now come for me, will you?”
He sounds so sweet, and her body rushes to obey him, shuddering around his fingers as the pressure building in her belly collapses outwards, her mind going blank from the onslaught of sensation. Even so, he doesn’t stop his torture, fingers still playing with her clit; the sensitivity is what brings her back to the present, has her squirming and struggling to get away as his free hand fastens on her hip, keeping her still. “Stop!”
“Mm?” He does as she requests, much to her surprise. “If you want me to. I think this might be enough for now, yes.” And then his hand finally leaves her and she hopes, for a fleeting instant, that she can finally go home—
Just to yelp when his fingers curl around her knees and he drags her forward, wrapping her legs around his hips. Something presses against her entrance, and it feels distinctly different from his hands and mouth—it’s hot and velvety, stiff and unyielding, and when a slick tip nudges against her folds, she thinks she might know what it is.
“A virgin, yes?” Kazuha’s cock slides against her, catching on her clit, and she trembles. “I’ll try to be gentle.”
“Y-You’re going to put it in?” she squeaks, all her earlier unease flung aside as she draws a deep breath, hoping to relax. The tip of him slips inside her, slow and steady; her sex throbs again, already wanting.
“Mm.” Kazuha lowers his head to her shoulder and she feels his teeth sinking in, gentle enough not to hurt, firm enough that she’s sure it will leave marks. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
And in the next second his hips snap forward and suddenly he’s sheathed inside her, the stretch making her eyes widen. She can’t see anything through the cloth but she can feel him, feel his sheer size dragging along her walls, how he forces her open and displaces the air from her lungs, drawing her focus entirely back to him.
It didn’t hurt. She had heard stories from her mother, about how the first time almost always hurt and the best a girl could do was to grit her teeth and bear the pain, but this didn’t hurt at all.
“Lumine,” he groans, and it’s the first time she’s heard him breathless. He’s always composed, always in control of the situation, but right now he seems to desire her, and that makes her feel strangely powerful. “I apologise, I’m so wound up, I can’t—fuck,” he swears, every other word punctuated by a sharp thrust. Her toes curl.
“You can… you can have me,” she pants, arching upwards, pushing her breasts against his chest. Once, she’d dare not even dream of engaging in such a shameless display, but right now, with him inside her and her arousal slick between her legs, there doesn’t seem to be any point in caring about character or propriety.
Kazuha makes her feel good, and she chases those sensations with reckless abandon, giving herself fully to him as he claims her. He touches her everywhere, his hands roaming over her body—squeezing her breasts, digging into her hips, dropping to her clit as he shoves in so hard, it feels like he’s carving a space for himself within her.
And his voice, like silk in her ear. Uttering words of praise that turn her mind blank, that have her whimpering as he tells her how beautiful she is, how she’s taking him so well, look at the way she’s sucking him in.
Not that she can see anything. But the filth he whispers makes her tighten around his cock and soon she feels again the sweet promise of orgasm, the slow pressure that builds in her belly, threatening to overwhelm her.
Kazuha’s breaths are growing harsher too, and dazedly she thinks he must be getting close. She wonders what he will look like when he finishes—wonders what sort of expression he might make, and for the first time since this all began she mourns the presence of her blindfold.
“You feel too good, sweetling,” he rasps, his fingers fastening on her nipples. “So tight and warm, and all for me. Like you’re made for this. Made for me to fuck.” He pinches and she stiffens, still unused to the shock—Kazuha has realised her breasts are particularly sensitive, and he likes to take advantage of that. “You’ll let me come inside you, won’t you, sweetling? I’d love you so much more than your husband ever will.”
She can’t think. It’s too many words and too many sensations, all at once—she’s already teetering on the edge of oblivion, one step away from collapsing entirely. “Yes, yes,” she cries, throwing her head back as he grinds against her, his mouth gliding over her neck. “Just don’t stop Kazuha, please!”
“You’re so cute when you beg.” He laughs, and then his hand is back on her clit and she’s gone, her back arching clear off the floor as her orgasm crashes through her and she trembles, unable to recall even her name.
He hisses, slamming vigorously into her, and she’s so uncomfortable, so sensitive that tears pool in her eyes, the overstimulation almost too much to bear. She opens her mouth, trying to plead for leniency, but before she can speak he thrusts his fingers past her lips and she can’t breathe, choking and gagging on him.
Maybe it’s the tears. Or the perspiration trickling down her forehead, or simple divine deliverance. But the cloth wrapped around her head slips just a crack and suddenly she can see. Kazuha is above her and he looks empyrean, his ruby eyes beautiful and mesmerising; he’s staring straight at her, their gazes locking, and she can’t think—
Then he pushes in one, two more times and stops completely, collapsing on top of her as he drags his hand back and presses his mouth to her throat. She swears she can feel him twitching inside her, and now that the cloud of lust is fading she finds herself wondering about the implications of his question.
Why does he want to finish inside her? What does that even achieve? She’s never seen a man come before; is it any different from her climax? She wants to ask these questions, but she’s too tired to open her mouth and so, she lets her curiosity go.
After a while, Kazuha finally begins to move, climbing off her and untying the ropes around her wrists. She feels the bindings fall away from her arms and torso and she gives her thanks, receiving a peck on the cheek in return.
He then tugs on her blindfold, undoing the knot completely, and she blinks, feeling a little strange now that it’s gone. It takes her a while to get used to the flood of light; by the time everything comes back into focus, Kazuha is already packing his things. She can see him placing silk ribbons into a set of drawers beside the bonsai, and she averts her gaze, embarrassed to think about where those ribbons had been.
“How are you feeling?” Kazuha asks, closing the drawer and turning to face her. She clears her throat, but before she can reply she feels something spilling out between her thighs—she inhales, glancing down just to see a white fluid, thick and viscous, trickling onto the floor.
He notices the direction of her stare. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s nothing,” he says. She hesitates, studying the fluid again, but it doesn’t seem to be harming her, so she turns her attention back to him.
“I’m sore all over,” she answers, and Kazuha laughs, gliding back to her with a towel in hand. He offers it to her, and she gratefully accepts, using it to wipe the dirt and grime off her skin.
“Did you enjoy yourself though?” He settles beside her, ruby gaze assessing, and she pauses her clean-up, letting his question sink into her mind.
“I suppose I did,” she finally says, and he nods, his expression satisfied.
“Then in that case,” he says, reaching out to take her hand—she pauses, startled by his sudden touch, by the way his fingers slip into the spaces between hers, stopping her from wiping down any further—“why not stay a while longer? After all,” he adds, lips curving into a graceful smile, “I haven’t taught you everything yet.”