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Dear Xiao,
Time sure flies, doesn’t it? We haven’t seen each other in a while, so it would be wonderful if you could visit the harbor for a bit tomorrow afternoon!
I look forward to seeing you!
-Hu Tao
He rereads the lines again. It would be wonderful if you could visit the harbor.
Reads them one more time, so the words really sink in.
An expression of shock slowly fades into one of annoyance; how many times does he have to tell her, he stays away from the harbor for a reason?
He rolls his eyes, tossing the worn paper onto his bed. He can accept that the humans enjoy the harbor, but respectfully, he is not one of them—it isn’t even Lantern Rite, so why should she want to see him?
Spring is late this year. The days are cold and cloudy, with sporadic rains spotting across Liyue’s countryside. It’s one of those days now, where the clouds are low and dark against a bright blue sky. It should rain later, but if he knows anything about Liyue’s weather patterns, then the sky today is an omen for tomorrow.
It will be bright and sunny. The Anemo Archon must have blessed the winds, for he knows they’ll come barreling down from the north and push this mess out to sea. It will be warm, too; for all intents and purposes, a very nice, warm, sunny spring day awaits.
Gallivanting in the harbor could be fun, he supposed, if he were anyone else—the darkness in the depths of Dihua’s soil does not halt for a pretty day.
He sighs to himself as he departs his room; this letter is nothing more than an annoyance, something designed to stop him in his duty. Though, he has to admit to himself that lately he’s been overdoing it a bit…
No matter. He has been doing this for millenia; a few weeks without rest or sleep is nothing to an adeptus. In fact, he probably shouldn’t have even come back to the inn today. What kind of warrior steps away from his duty?
The winds told him that something at the inn was unusual, though. A simple activation of the inn’s teleport waypoint was all it took to let him know that an interesting individual had been by to visit. Having just missed them, he received the letter from Verr Goldet instead.
He trudged down the inn’s stairs, casting his gaze over the foyer below.
Everything seems normal. Verr Goldet is standing at the inn’s front desk, just like usual. The fragrance of spice and cooked vegetables wafts from the kitchens below, and his stomach rumbles even though he’s not hungry. He tries to pass her without fanfare, but she decides to interrupt his peace anyway.
“Did you get that letter?”
Xiao stops. Turns to glance at her with a frown, before moving on.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Verr Goldet gripes after him, “And I won’t allow it! You’re going to the harbor tomorrow to meet that young girl; she had the decency of hand delivering that letter on her own. You are not going to stand her up.”
Xiao says nothing, offers no response; a sigh rings through his head at the annoyance, though.
Whatever. If he can be back before nightfall, then he can offer his presence for an hour or two.
“Xiaooo! So glad you could make it!”
This isn’t the first time she’s invited him to the harbor like this. He remembers a Lantern Rite once, some years ago, when she’d personally interrupted his night to beg him to come to the harbor.
He doesn’t know when he became so easy to persuade. He’s still uneasy after all this time, thinking only of the fate of the harbor, but her bright eyes and gentle smile ease his worries just a bit.
It had been fine the last time, it’d be fine now.
“Sorry for the impromptu invite,” she says with a shrug as they stand before the funeral parlor. “I was only informed recently, and decided that it’d be the perfect opportunity to get everyone together again.”
“I’m not sure what the occasion is,” he says with a frown. “It isn’t polite to send invites so late, you know.”
She shrugs and rolls her eyes, “It’s fiiine, besides, you’re here anyway—and oh, you, you can be so silly sometimes!”
He has no idea what she’s talking about.
“Apologies for my tardiness,” a deep baritone comes from the entrance of the parlor, and Xiao slinks his gaze to one that matches his own. “Right—I suppose we aren’t late, then?”
“Ahh, only a little bit, Zhongli,” Hu Tao laughs, “And look—the man of honor himself has arrived!”
What—man of honor?
“What are you talking about?”
Hu Tao and Zhongli stare at him like he’s grown a third head, before the consultant gives one long, understanding sigh.
“Well, let it be a surprise. Follow us, Conqueror of Demons.”
Whatever is going on between the two, Xiao doesn’t know; he’s annoyed they won’t say anything as they begin their trek across the harbor, trading the tall buildings of the business center for the shorter, humbler homes of the housing district.
Liyue Harbor is beautiful tonight. The clouds, just like he’d anticipated, hang low over the distant horizon, blessing far-off Inazuma with their rain. The result is a sky reflecting every hue of the rainbow, fading from brilliant yellow to deep pinks and reds, tinged purple at the edges with the hint of night.
Night… he frowns. He wanted to be home before nightfall, but unfortunately spent a bit too much time hyping himself up to even come to the harbor to remember the time.
Still, Hu Tao said they weren’t late—is she crazy, thinking he can stay out late like this?
“We’re heeere!”
“… This is Wanmin Restaurant.”
“I’m sorry it couldn’t be of higher caliber, Adeptus Xiao,” an icy voice greets from the door. Shenhe stands, glaring with her frosty gaze, as Xiangling beckons them close.
“Be nicer to him, Shenhe,” Xiangling pouts, “It’s his birthday, after all—”
“Xiangling!”
Xiao blinks at Hu Tao’s shout. Ah… that’s what it was. No wonder something about this day felt strange.
A birthday celebration is something important only to humans, and maybe a select few divine who wish to galavant as mortals. He side-eyes Zhongli, who only closes his eyes and shrugs, before turning back to the three squabbling women.
… Well, two squabbling women. Shenhe is standing still, back rigid and gaze unmoving when she says, “There’s a table reserved at the back. My master and Ganyu are waiting with a few others.”
… Was his birthday really that big of an event to be celebrated?
Hu Tao finally quits it with Xiangling, thanking Shenhe and leading the two adepti to the back of the establishment. Their table is seated in a corner, with a beautiful view of nearby Mount Tianheng. The sky is spotless as the afternoon fades away, and he turns his attention from the horizon to the gathering of figures awaiting them.
Chongyun and the young master from the Feiyun commerce guild are there, and they wave to Hu Tao when they see them; he sees Xianyun—wow, that’s a face he hasn’t seen in a while—seated next to Ganyu, who gives him a weary smile behind her glass. She’s joined on one side by Shenhe—hadn’t she just been at the front of the establishment?—and on her other side is…
He nearly stops. Three figures he hadn’t anticipated seeing again, not for a while, are sitting right there to greet him with beaming faces.
The first is the pair known all across Teyvat, the Traveler and Paimon. It seems as though Paimon’s already been to some of the dishes laid on the table, waving at him with a face covered in bits of food. The Traveler smiles gently when their eyes meet; she hasn’t changed a bit since he last saw her. She’s gesturing for him to come over, pointing to an open seat that is right next to…
The last individual is one who seems both right at home and completely out of place among the gathering of Liyueans. It’s been a few years since he’s last seen the Anemo Archon, but there he sits, all bubbly laughter and wide smiles with the Traveler, before their eyes meet and Xiao feels something inside him shift.
Venti is… well, Xiao can’t really find the words to describe him. A vision, a muse, the god Xiao finds himself turning to ever since Rex Lapis passed—he’s been distancing himself from Venti for a while, if only to help in mitigating his feelings.
He remembers telling the Traveler about them, once, in a not-so direct way—he assumed she picked up on what he meant, just like she always does. To have her here, conspiring to seat him next to the person that makes his heart beat erratically in his chest, is nothing short of cruel.
“Xiao, over here!”
The Traveler’s voice snaps him from his reverie, and he moves on autopilot, trying desperately to get his mind off of his nerves. He glances at Venti, who flashes him a grin.
“Long time no see, eh, Xiao?”
…
He has no idea what to say.
He knows the moment is blending into awkwardness the longer he stays silent, before Venti’s eyes glance past him and land on one of his companions.
“Oh, here—I’ll just be a moment,” the archon says, standing from his seat and beelining towards Zhongli.
Figures. An archon would seek another archon, they probably have more to talk about anyways.
He gently sits down next to the Traveler after giving her a small nod in greeting, before his thoughts are interrupted by Paimon.
“Happy birthday, Xiao!” She says in that pitchy tone of hers, thrusting what appears to be a small box wrapped in paper towards him. “Er, Paimon didn’t know what to get you, so she took some of the Traveler’s advice…”
“It’s from the both of us,” she says gently, her golden eyes gleaming. “You can open it later.”
He glances between her and the box, nodding and setting it aside.
“Paimon ordered your favorite, too!” The little floating companion says, gesturing to a plate of almond tofu already on the table. “She hoped you’d get here sooner, but… well, it hasn’t been out for too long!”
“We were a bit worried you wouldn’t make it,” Ganyu says from the Traveler’s other side, her lavender eyes shimmering in the late afternoon light. “I, ah, would have gotten you a gift, but became very busy at the last minute… the dinner is on the Qixing, as thanks for your timeless service.”
She shrugs sheepishly, obviously apologetic for not having a better gift; not that it would have mattered to him, anyway. He doesn’t need endless mora or expensive items… a meal with close friends, both new and old, is more than enough.
He takes a moment to greet Xianyun, before she’s quickly pulled into conversation with Venti and Zhongli; Xiao wishes he could take part, but his apprehension is getting the best of him. As Ganyu slowly begins conversation with Shenhe and Paimon while Hu Tao gets sucked into banter with the other younger vision holders, he finds that he is suddenly alone, and decides to focus on the food in front of him.
Almond tofu… his favorite. Light and airy and nearly flavorless, able to take on the taste of whatever is added to it. It reminds him of the anemo element in that way, and he glances at his vision, then up to Venti; he ignores how his heart skips a beat, opting instead to try and enjoy the celebration around him.
This area of the harbor is nice. Not too public, but not so private it’s suffocating. The open air helps him feel at home, as though he were in a room without walls. It’s… nice.
It definitely isn’t a bad celebration, but…
He swallows. His eyes shift to Venti and Zhongli, engaged in deep conversation on the other side of the table. He allows himself a prolonged look for a moment, his eyes softening at the sight of Mondstadt’s archon; he makes sure to look away right when he catches a glimpse of green.
Unfortunately, he turns his head in the direction of the Traveler, who is staring at him, her head rested on a hand, with wide, knowing eyes.
He frowns. “Don’t… give me that look.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “I hope you’re enjoying the get together.”
Tch. She knows too much for her own good; he should have never mentioned his predicament to her and saved himself from her teasing.
“… Why is he here?”
“Ran into him a few days ago,” she says with a shrug, turning to look at the archon. He’s now laughing, a big hearty laugh, between Zhongli and Xianyun. The three look like old friends—tired but merry—as they converse in the dying sunlight. “I conspired a little with Hu Tao to put this together—sorry—and told him about it. He er… sort of invited himself. It’s not a problem, is it?”
“Not at all,” he says softly.
Humans usually give gifts to the one being celebrated at events like this… there is nothing more that I could want or need beyond seeing his face again. He looks well. Happy. I’m glad.
He inhales deeply, pushing the thoughts away and replacing them with a hearty bite into some almond tofu. The light, slightly sweet taste is soothing to his nerves, and before he knows it, he’s scooped another spoonful into his mouth.
“Be careful with that,” she laughs, golden locks falling delicately over her face as she leans over the table. “Can’t be too greedy, even if it is your birthday—otherwise you’ll have to answer to Paimon.”
“Hey,” comes an indignant squeak from her other side, a sound that causes even Xiao to smile. “Paimon isn’t that heartless! There’s other food she can eat, so Xiao can have all the almond tofu he wants!”
“It’s okay,” he says after he’s swallowed, glancing towards the horizon. “This was… fun, Traveler, Paimon. I should get going, though—”
“Get going? Aw, Xiao, don’t tell me you’re leaving so soon!”
He ignores the pleased look on the Traveler’s face when Venti sits down next to him, all smiles and reeking of wine.
“I shouldn’t be out late,” is all he says, trying his best to steady his nerves—though he knows he’s failing miserably when the Traveler shares a knowing glance with Paimon.
“Surely you can spend an hour or so,” the Traveler says next to him, egging him on, “After all, everyone came out here to celebrate you—the least you can do is stay a bit, hmm?”
“… I…”
He looks at Venti. His heart skips a beat and he instinctively wants to hide.
“… Are you all right, Xiao?”
He looks at Paimon, who’s sparkly eyes regard him with worry.
“I’m fine.”
“O-Okay,” she says slowly, “You just—you look like you ate something really bad just now, and you’re gonna be sick… oh, Traveler, maybe he should go home…”
“I’m sure Xiao’s fine, Paimon,” the Traveler hums next to her, popping a Full Moon Egg into her mouth. “Probably just tired.”
Seriously… how can she fit a whole one in there? She’ll never cease to amaze him.
“Which is exactly why we’re having this celebration,” Venti pipes up with a smile, gesturing towards an undrunk glass of wine right by his plate. “Come on, Xiao—it’s your birthday! Have some fun with us, why don’t you?”
Well… who is he to deny the request of an archon?
“… If you insist.”
He gulps, reaching for the glass of wine in front of him. He isn’t a drinker, not at all, but he knows to limit himself; the taste is round and full and slightly sweet on his tongue, made only brighter by the rich laughter next to him. He doesn’t dare look at Venti, though, instead opting to nod towards the Traveler.
“It’s good,” he says slowly, dragging his eyes away from gold to replace them with green. Venti’s eyes are gleaming—so pretty—with delight.
“Wonderful,” Venti replies, “Then, I suppose it’s time for a toast—Happy birthday, Xiao!”
His words grab the attention of the table, and Xiao is met with a sea of wide, smiling faces.
“Happy birthday, Xiao!”
After a few hours, he takes it back; he can’t limit himself at all.
He isn’t the only one either, it seems; there’s a pleasant flush to Ganyu’s light features as she babbles away with Shenhe and the younger folk. Xianyun herself is now engaged in a heated debate over machine-made music with the archon next to him; the two are as red as apples as they argue, and Xiao smiles stupidly to himself when the winds begin to pick up around them.
“Settle down, you two,” Zhongli gripes across the table, taking a slow sip of his tea, “You’ll tear this place apart with your bickering.”
Xiao has spent a bit of time chatting—well, listening, really—between Ganyu and Hu Tao, who are exchanging stories about a certain adeptus from Huaguang and the consultant on the other side of the table. Working in the harbor has its perks, it seems, and it looks like one of them is getting to witness the antics of Liyue’s ex-archon and one overachieving adeptus. Shenhe, Chongyun and Xingqiu have been sitting, listening closely, each adding their own small amount of input wherever possible.
The Traveler’s been offering light input as well, here and there, though it’s obvious she’s focused mainly on him. He doesn’t blame her; his attention to their words has slowly been shifting towards the Anemo Archon, and he’s sure he’s sitting with a stupid look on his face—smitten, probably, because he’s terrible at hiding it—while ogling Venti.
He takes another sip of the wine in front of him, wishing Venti were next to him instead; now that would be one amazing birthday gift.
At some point, Hu Tao disappears for a bit before returning to the kitchens with Xiangling in tow—they have a cake, a rather large one, and spend a decent amount of time giving Xiao well wishes and complimenting his abilities. He silently nods and accepts each accolade with grace, a bit too tipsy to form coherent sentences right now; he’s thankful when it’s over and they split the dessert between them all, relishing the cool sea breeze that signals the oncoming of night.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there in his own quiet, eyes darting every other second towards Venti—oh, he’s no longer arguing with Xianyun, and is instead laughing along with Hu Tao and singing some old Liyuean folk tunes.
Cute. The Anemo Archon is very cute. He should keep that to himself… but really, Venti is very, very cute.
“Hey, Xiao?”
He turns to look at Paimon, right into her wide eyes.
“Whazzit?”
“… Ohh, you’re drunk,” she says with a frown, turning to the Traveler. “Er… Traveler, I think Xiao might need a little help…”
Golden eyes flash towards him in concern. “Okay, got it,” she says, “Hey, Venti—no more for Xiao. He’s had enough.”
“Oh, I hope Xiao’s okay,” Paimon says beside her, her face the picture of worry. Xiao can only shake his head; he’s fine, just a little tipsy. Drinking isn’t an activity he indulges in often, and it seems his tolerance is much lower than he’d like…
“Aha, he’ll be alright,” Venti says from across the table, though his own voice is slowed by the wine. “C’mon, I’ll make sure he gets home okay, yeah?”
Xiao watches as Paimon slowly nods her head, casting a worried glance towards the Traveler. Her golden eyes stare into his own as she arches an eyebrow, thoroughly unconvinced that the Anemo Archon can follow through with that plan.
“When the time comes, I’ll help you, Venti,” she says with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose next to him. “I don’t think he can stand on his own right now, though.”
Xiao nods. He can do that; he thinks if he stood right now, the world would swirl just like a bunch of anemo elemental reactions. So he sits, quiet and content and happily buzzed, as the night goes on.
One by one, the members of their little get together disperse; Chongyun and Xingqiu had retired a bit earlier, after a mishap with some spicy food rendered the poor exorcist incapacitated for the rest of the night. Xiao remembers bidding them farewell a few glasses of wine ago, when the night sky wasn’t yet dotted with stars.
There’s also a slight squabble as a very drunk Xianyun begs her “granddaughters to visit her,” and “what is she, a horrible teacher?” Xiao finds it funny but keeps it to himself as both Shenhe and Ganyu insist that she is wonderful and that they will visit soon—even if their last visit was only a few days ago. The three of them bid farewell at the same time as Zhongli and Hu Tao, who cites making sure the director gets home safely after her own unnecessary consumption of alcohol has rendered her a little too giggly and bubbly for his liking.
“Come on, up you go,” he can hear the Traveler say when it’s just the four of them, placing a hand on his back and his wrist to hoist him to his feet. He’s being propped up by both her and Venti, who is on the verge of tumbling over himself; Paimon flitters about them with concern as they exit Wanmin Restaurant, bidding farewell to a sleepy Xiangling as they steer Xiao towards the nearest teleport waypoint.
The teleportation makes him dizzy—or, wait, that’s probably the alcohol—and he stumbles onto the floorboards of Wangshu Inn, swinging to the side just in time for the Traveler to catch him.
“Jeez, Xiao,” she huffs as she rights him with Venti’s help, “Venti, you will not let him drink that much again, you hear me?”
“I got it, I got it,” the archon whines next to him, his own voice on the edge of slurring. “But hey—I think he enjoyed his birthday. Din’chya, Xiao?”
“I did,” he mumbles, vision blurring before focusing on a door. It’s his door, he realizes, and he’s being pushed into his room by both the Traveler and Venti until he topples onto the bed.
“Okay,” he can hear the Traveler say, his attention waning in favor of sleep, “I’ll leave him here… Venti, are you going back to Mondstadt?”
“Ehe, maybe—though, I might as well keep this one company,” the archon says, voice fading as Xiao succumbs to the embrace of sleep.
When he wakes up, it’s still dark. The curtains over his window are not drawn, allowing the cool light of the moon to spill over his furniture and bed and—the figure dozing next to him. He jolts up on his bed, jerking his head to the right at a sudden yelp from one Anemo Archon.
“Venti,” he groans, holding his head in an attempt to stave off his surprise and nerves at being in Venti’s presence. He glances towards the archon, who sits in a heap on the floor, a queasy look on his face. “What… what time is it?”
“Not that late,” he chirps, “it’s, ah, still your birthday—”
“I can’t believe this,” he frowns, rising to his feet. His vision sways; funny, is he still drunk? He feels sober, so… “Look—I need to go. You should head back to Mondstadt.”
“Oh, no you don’t—you aren’t going anywhere,” Venti says, rising to meet him at the door. Xiao rolls his eyes and goes to teleport, just like he always does—but the winds do not listen. He turns to look at Venti, who’s braced himself against the wooden frame in a poor attempt to keep Xiao from leaving. “That’s right—have fun using your vision while I’m here.”
Fine. Whatever. He’ll just walk past Venti.
The archon falls with a yelp when Xiao pushes him to the side—he was no match physically for Xiao, anyway—but when he goes to open the door, he finds it sealed shut.
He looks at Venti. He’s a mess of limbs on the floor, pouting at Xiao.
Great. The winds heed their archon over him, it seems, and they’re working together to keep Xiao from leaving this room.
He sighs, relenting, as Venti gets back on his feet.
“Why are you keeping me here?”
“Zhongli told me all about how you’ve been killing yourself lately, working tirelessly through the night,” Venti huffs, brushing the dust from his garb and tossing his hat towards the bed. “And even the Traveler is worried, you know—she asked if I could maybe spend some time with you, to see what’s going on. You barely respond to visitors, you barely come back here to rest—it’s your birthday. We’re hanging out, relaxing in this room, whether you like it or not.”
“… Did you get me drunk on purpose?”
Venti winces. “I’d hoped you’d just sleep through the night, but it seems I was wrong…”
If Xiao didn’t hold Venti in such high regard, he’d punch him. Instead, he stalks over to his bed and sits down, crossing his arms over his chest.
“… Er, Xiao—”
“You wanted to relax,” Xiao says flatly, “This is me relaxing.”
Venti groans. “This isn’t relaxing.”
“This is plenty relaxing,” Xiao sniffs, rolling his eyes.
And, he isn’t lying, really; if anything, the lie would be that he doesn’t want to spend some time with the Anemo Archon. They were long time friends, after all—though, that sentiment may have shifted a bit as of late—
“Fine, fine—did you at least enjoy your birthday?”
Venti plops down on the bed next to him, their thighs touching. His eyes are only slightly dimmed with leftover inebriation as he peers at Xiao above a questioning smile.
“… I forgot,” he confesses.
“Wh—you forgot?” Venti cries, shaking his head.
“You of all beings should know how keeping such a date loses meaning with time,” he gripes in response, not bothering to entertain Venti’s whims right now. He’d much rather be outside, completing his sworn duty, than sitting here with an archon that makes him feel… things that tickle the edge of his consciousness. Urk, is he still drunk? “I just forgot.”
“You haven’t answered the question,” Venti pouts, mimicking Xiao in crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you enjoy it?”
He ponders for a moment.
“… I did.”
He glances at Venti, watching the way his shoulders relax. Ah… was he really that worried that Xiao would hate it? Human activities like that aren’t his forte, so maybe he just assumed…
“That makes me happier, then,” the archon sighs, falling down against the bed. Xiao sits with one foot still on the floor, the other tucked under his leg as he twists his body to face the archon; Venti is laid out against stark white, his black hair surrounding him like a halo, his green garb matching the color of his eyes in the light of the moon.
Ah. He can’t look for too long, or the vines over his heart will start to squeeze and his current difficulty with words will ascend to something near impossibility—
“… What?”
Oh no, he’s staring, isn’t he? He looks away in silence, hoping to hide the blush that’s no doubt crossing his face right now.
“… Nothing. Shouldn’t you be on your way to Mondstadt?”
“Eh, the Traveler’s access to teleport waypoints means I’ll be there in an instant,” Venti yawns, stretching his body out with a groan. “Though, I suppose I could just teleport there myself—doesn’t matter. I can go back to Mondstadt whenever I want.”
“So why don’t you?”
He hears Venti sit up next to him, but he doesn’t dare look, not when his heart is getting ready to run a marathon in his chest. That’s right, he remembers—it was easier when Venti slept, because that meant not having to interact with Venti, which meant Xiao didn’t have to address those feelings that leave him breathless whenever they’re together—
“Because I want to spend time with you,” is the quiet response. Xiao turns, his golden gaze searching Venti’s face for something while trying not to get lost in his green eyes. “C’mon, it’s been a while since we’ve hung out like this—and I barely got to talk with you during dinner! I’ve missed our chats, you know—so talk with me. Please.”
Xiao is quiet. He quiets his heart, thinking.
“… Is there anything you want to talk about?”
Argh, this is so awkward—why can’t Venti be the chatty one, like usual? It was up to him to visit, to stay with him while he slept, and he hasn’t been by in years—this is frustrating. Embarrassing.
Venti seems to sense his inner turmoil, saying quietly, “Xiao?”
“I shouldn’t be here,” he says in nearly a shout, though he stops when he notices Venti jump. He doesn’t want to scare the object of his affection away, but this is too much all at once, he can’t really focus when Venti is here like this—!
“Xiao,” Venti’s voice is close, right in his ear, and it takes everything he has to not shudder. There’s breath ghosting across his face and when he turns, it’s to a sea of concern shimmering across Venti’s face. “Breathe. Okay?
It’s amazing the wonders Venti is able to do with such a voice. His tone calms him immediately, and he feels lighter, fresher, as they sit quietly in the dark of his chambers.
“… Good?”
“Yes.”
“All right,” Venti sighs, his body relaxing, “tonight, don’t worry about upholding your duty—the marsh will stay calm and quiet for as long as I am here. So, please, rest a bit—for me.”
He blinks, nodding slowly, his only option to accept Venti’s words. He looks… tired, even worried, as he reaches for Xiao’s hand.
He glances down at the fingers on top of his armor, rubbing gentle circles against the hard steel; it’s comforting, even if he can’t feel it with his skin.
The action is definitely not going to Xiao’s head, no sir. He is the picture of relaxation and calm when Venti touches him—what? What’s that sound in his head? Oh, it definitely isn’t the super fast beating of his heart, not at all—
“Hey,” Venti says quietly, breaking the silence that’s fallen over them, “Since it’s been a few years, how about I tell you what I’ve been up to?”
Xiao nods. That’s a much better option than having him navigate around how he feels.
It also helps that, whenever Venti speaks of his journeys and adventures, Xiao can’t help but listen; there’s a certain musical quality to his words as he describes gallivanting once more in Inazuma with it’s wonderful storms and brilliant lightning, regaling songs of Sumeru’s history from the jungles in the east to the far dunes of the west, drinking fine liquor in the heart of Fontaine—and beneath its heart, too, for a quick trip to the Fortress of Meropide for underage alcohol consumption is a thorn in his side questing if not for the wonderful discovery of mixed Fonta drinks—and bringing joy to human and Saurian alike as a street performer across the tribes of Natlan. He moves as quickly as the winds, ever changing and eternal, bouncing along like notes in a song.
He is Mondstadt’s archon, alright—everywhere and anywhere all at once, constantly moving, leaving his mark wherever he goes.
For Xiao, that mark is directly on his heart, scarring his rationale with a simple, lovely feeling.
“Do you enjoy my stories, Xiao?” Venti asks, after they’ve been sitting on his bed for a while—well, Xiao is sitting with his back against the headboard, while Venti lays haphazardly on his back on top of his sheets. The room has only gotten brighter as the moon rises in the sky; it’s almost the next day, maybe half an hour or so before the transition.
He nods. “I do,” he admits with a soft smile, “Sometimes… I wish it was something I could experience. My duty keeps me bound to Liyue, but being able to listen to your tales…”
He sighs, trailing off; oh no, he’s getting lost in Venti’s eyes again. Two pretty jade green orbs stare into his own, perfect.
“Heh, I suppose it’s a sufficient birthday gift, then,” he giggles, stretching out across the bed. “I was a little worried, you know—I didn’t get you anything because I realized I have no idea what you want!”
Xiao tilts his head. “… ‘What I want?’”
Venti sits up. “Uh, yeah,” he says, rolling his eyes, “You get what you want on your birthday.”
He blinks.
Huh… he figured he’d just get whatever someone wanted to give him. Did it really depend that much on his own opinion…?
“There… isn’t really anything I want.”
“What? C’mon, isn’t there something you want?” Venti insists. “Like, more than anything in the whole world?”
Xiao swallows. Once, yes—his freedom. And he received it under Rex Lapis, and as a result his wants slowly morphed over time into freedom from his karmic chains, but that only comes with death—and if he dies, then he’d never get to witness the Anemo Archon’s beauty again.
He turns away from the archon’s gaze, heart hammering, ruminating on when this all began. When he became so nervous upon being perceived by the Anemo Archon. He only came to realize his feelings a few years after Rex Lapis died. They were friends—very old friends, who had once laughed and made merry with the rest of the adepti—and with the pure embodiment of freedom so close to him all the time, that platonic feeling slowly morphed into something much deeper.
Because Venti slept a lot, Xiao had resorted to never seeing the archon again; when he came tumbling back into Xiao’s life again only a few years ago, all of those old emotions resurfaced slowly over time. Now, especially after their meeting again earlier that day, he fully admits to himself that he feels something very intense for the archon—admitting that to his face, though…
“D-Don’t you also want something?”
“I have what I fought for,” Venti hums, swatting the air with his hand, “And besides, it isn’t my birthday—there has to be something you want, even if it’s a little thing!”
Xiao looks at him. There’s merriment in Venti’s eyes that leads to a bright smile, and oh—Venti shines just like the warm spring sun from earlier in the day. If he looks for too long, he’ll blind himself.
“… What will you give me?”
Venti smiles.
“Anything you want.”
… Ah.
Having an archon say that to him is… something. Having the Anemo Archon say that to him, the object of an affection he’s been harboring for the better part of a decade—though it probably extends further back, to millennial timescales—heats his stomach in a way he hasn’t felt in ages.
He looks at Venti. If he’s content playing this game, then…
“I…”
“Sorry, Xiao,” Venti sighs, leaning closer until his face is right by Xiao’s shoulder. “I couldn’t quite catch that.”
“… I… I want you to kiss me.”
He looks away, well aware he’s blushing. The silence alerts him, worries him—maybe he said the wrong thing. Did he just insult an archon? Oh, what sort of idiot asks for a kiss from a god—
“Alright.”
He whips his head around to look at those green eyes, just in time for soft lips to press against his own.
A thousand feelings pop into his mind at once. Oh, how he’s wanted this for a long, long time; his arm shakes when he moves to cup Venti’s face, tilting his head to deepen their kiss. He hums against soft lips that taste mildly sweet as thin fingers entwine with his own, unaware that he’s slowly being arranged by the archon until his back is flush with his bed.
Venti breaks away, taking Xiao’s breath with him; he glances at how they’re positioned—oh, it’s way more intimate than he imagined, and he squeezes his legs together in an attempt to make himself smaller.
“Th-Thank you.”
“Of course,” Venti exclaims, though he makes no motion to remove himself from the Yaksha. “I don’t think I would have ever thought you’d wanted such a thing.”
“W-Well,” he gulps, glancing away from a knowing—teasing emerald gaze, “I have it now, so you should…”
Oh, he can’t do it. He can’t tell Venti he wants him to leave because it isn’t true—Venti is nearly straddling him, his arms placed just above Xiao’s shoulders, keeping him positioned against an adeptus trying to sink right through his bed.
“I should what?”
A shaky exhale to steel his nerves.
“…”
“What should I do, Xiao?”
Venti’s voice is quiet, almost impossibly so, as though the only way Xiao would be able to hear him is if those dulcet tones were carried on the wind directly into his ear. He’s well aware he’s hot, way too hot, there’s beads of sweat forming on his forehead as Venti leans down once more to press a kiss to waiting lips.
He’s died. He’s died after drinking way too much and gone to heaven, and this is it. The only explanation for why the Anemo Archon is kissing him is that this is paradise.
Venti pulls away once more, smiling as Xiao gulps for air. There’s a ruffle-clad hand reaching for his own, gently undoing the binds on his armor, tossing the garments of leather and steel clattering on the floor.
“W-What are you doing?”
Green eyes meet gold. Xiao is finally coherent, finally awake, his spell broken by that simple question.
Venti grins—it’s one Xiao knows all too well, one that tells him that archon is up to no good.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Celestia, no.
He shakes his head as small as he can, hoping he conveys his desire to continue—his voice has completely failed him as Venti gingerly takes his other wrist, carefully removing his vision to set it on his small bedside table.
His wrists feel cool against the air of his room—how long has it been since he’s removed them?—as Venti moves further up his arm to remove his shoulder armor.
“Here—lift your head,” he hums, maneuvering the string of beads from around his neck, followed by the strong gold plating that trails down his back. The mix of gold pieces and purple fabric are placed carefully on the floor to avoid being scratched—Xiao is thankful for Venti’s gentleness—as he’s left in just his shirt and pants. He feels… surprisingly nude.
Before he can move to cover himself, Venti returns, placing his hands against well defined chest muscles; Xiao’s breath hitches as his fingers trail down from his chest to his waist, using all of his strength and power to not squirm.
What in the name of Celestia is happening? I just asked for a kiss—what does Venti think he’s doing—
His spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a hand against his face guiding him back to Venti; he kisses him desperately, needily, whimpering into the mouth that’s pressed against his own.
Venti pulls away, licking Xiao’s saliva away from his lips with a smile. “I’m starting to think there’s a little more you want than just a kiss—”
“S-So?”
Venti, kneeling between his legs, reaches for the hem of Xiao’s pants.
Oh. Oh.
“Let me give it to you.”
He says nothing, letting his body and movements speak for him; he reaches for a boot of his own volition, swiftly undoing the binds of his armor, kicking it to the floor. Venti makes quick work of the other one before aiding Xiao in removing the thick pink and purple fabric adorning his waist. Xiao watches, head almost spinning, when Venti takes his mask in his hands—a prized possession placed only behind his vision in terms of importance—to place it right next to the teal gleaming item resting on the bedside table.
He’s so gentle with the items Xiao holds dear, ah, he wonders how gentle those hands would be with him—
Or, because it’s him, would they be rough? Would Venti levy an unrelenting assault against his aching body, something that wrecks him, leaving him a whimpering mess atop these soft sheets?
Oh, that’s tempting, very tempting, and with the way things are going right now, he might just get his answer tonight—
Fingers skip beneath the edge of his shirt and skim upwards, heat brought on by the touching of flesh sending hot flashes down Xiao’s spine. They pool in the bottom of his stomach and between his legs, gathering exponentially the more his stomach becomes exposed to air.
“So strong,” Venti sighs, tracing the rise and fall of his abs and hips, which are unfortunately spasming in time with ragged breaths. “I can see why Rex Lapis named you a defender of this nation.”
The same hand trails past his navel to the hem of his pants—it’s the final garment besides his shirt that’s left to be removed—toying with the edge of the garment if only to drive Xiao mad.
He can’t glance down because he already knows what the situation is like down there; he knows he’s hard, aching, he hasn’t been aroused like this in a long time and the slim fingers trailing over his bare flesh only serve to push him closer to the edge. It’s a little embarrassing, honestly, how a simple touch is enough to get him going—but if it was anyone besides the Anemo Archon, besidesVenti, he’s sure he’d be having a very different response.
The lack of touch sends him spiraling, and he nearly barks, “Ven-ti, what are you doing?”
“Admiring,” is all he gets in response.
In an instant there’s hands pulling his waistband down as a voice commands him to raise his hips; he does, wincing as the removal pulls at his weeping erection in an uncomfortable way, gasping when he’s finally freed from his confines. There’s air ghosting against his exposed flesh, his very obvious arousal beading at his tip, and the chill sends a shudder down his spine that’s amplified only by Venti pressing a kiss to his navel.
“Ngh,” he whines when a hand wraps around the base of his cock; Venti’s hand is cold, a lot colder than he’d realized, as it slowly strokes the length of Xiao’s hard cock—good, he thinks, at how slick and gentle Venti is as he gets him off.
Oh, dear Celestia, how—how how how how did he get here? How did he get here? Is—Is this a dream? Is this a lovely dream granted to him only from his repeated prayers to the Anemo Archon?
That’s it, he’s been way too focused on Venti as of late; when he wakes up later, because this is totally a dream that’s too good to be true that he’s going to wake up from—though, he’s never had a dream that’s so vivid before—he’ll visit Venti in Mondstadt.
When gold meets green, he can’t help but moan, accepting that yes, okay—all of this is real.
Everything that is happening right now is because the Anemo Archon, a literal god, is pressed against his side and pressing kisses to his stomach while pumping him to completion.
It’s ironic, a bit, that Venti is holding him with such reverence—he is not a god, let alone able to compare to an archon, and yet Venti is holding him and kissing him as if he were something worthy of worship.
“Why are you doing this,” Xiao questions, eyes rolling up as Venti works him between his legs. “I—I’m not—”
“I can’t deny such a diligent warrior a gift,” Venti hums, flashing a bright smile while still pressed against Xiao’s stomach. “Especially on his birthday.”
“A—ngh—human concept,” Xiao argues, though it’s impossible to do so when a moan comes spilling out after. “One does—not need—more gifts—!”
Oh, he gives up, he can’t fight back; he’s lavished with languid strokes over his aching erection as kiss after kiss is pressed to his exposed stomach, coaxing delicate sounds from the depths of his throat.
“Mm, perhaps, but one certainly desires it, doesn’t he?”
Venti’s thumb presses against his tip and he spasms. His hips shake with want, his desire is laid plain across his facial features, contorted by unadulterated lust. Xiao wants the god between his legs so, so bad, he’ll do anything for him—
“Please, Venti,” he nearly sobs, unable to stop bucking his hips in time with Venti’s hand. “Please—”
“Okay, okay,” Venti smiles, shifting his position until he’s looming over Xiao. His vision is a dazzle of shadows surrounding pools of green, he opens his mouth to gasp in air but it’s taken from him by soft, sweet lips.
Venti tastes like wine—the wine they were drinking, if he remembers correctly. He laps at that taste with his tongue, unceremoniously macking against the drunkard above him.
“Eager, too,” Venti purrs when Xiao grips the arm bracing him. His free hand slides down Xiao’s side, dancing across exposed flesh, coaxing strong legs open before returning to the heat between Xiao’s legs. “Come on. That’s it.”
A deep exhale leaves his chest—slightly shaky, how embarrassing—as warm fingers wrap around his shaft. He moans into Venti’s mouth, thighs tightening when he bucks into the archon’s hand.
He’s struggling to stay afloat, because archons, even if this is more than anything he’s ever wanted before, he’s still thinking of Venti.
“Venti,” he whines when that thumb returns to rubbing circles against his tip, “Y-Your clothes—”
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” he hums. “Wow, Xiao—just look at you. How long has it been since—oh!”
Venti’s light teasing fades into a genuine exclamation of surprise as Xiao shudders below him and releases into his hand.
When he returns, his body hot and head swirling in the light of post-orgasmic bliss, he makes eye contact with those deep, green eyes. Venti is staring at him with a mix of amusement and hunger as he leans back on his knees, reaching for something on the side table.
“S-Sorry,” Xiao stutters, covering his face with an arm.
Oh, he’ll never recover from this. How embarrassing! He practically threw himself at Venti in his drunken state, and now that he’s sobered himself up with an orgasm, he feels so gross.
“Er, that was…”
Dark brows furrow above green eyes that are still swimming with that feeling. Xiao nods, licking his lips as the regret sets in.
“… Sorry, again,” he apologizes, propping himself up on his elbows. Venti is still sitting between his legs—urk, he looks so awkward with no pants on and a mess over his stomach—keeping a gentle hand placed against his thigh.
“No, no,” Venti says with a shake of his head. “Don’t apologize… er, Xiao…”
Golden eyes blink at the sudden apprehension gracing the Anemo Archon’s face.
“Yes?”
“… Would you…” it’s a bit odd to watch Venti struggle with his words. “Would you… mind if we kept going?”
…
Kept going?
Kept going?
He’s nodding, small at first, then enthusiastically; the words yes, yes, yes aren’t leaving him in favor of showing his desire to continue—he reaches for Venti’s face with a hand, guiding him closer, pressing a needy, sloppy kiss to waiting lips.
When they part, there’s a very clear look of surprise and wonder on Venti’s face. The archon blinks, before removing himself from Xiao and to bed. They make eye contact briefly as Venti unravels the bow at his neck, causing all of his cloak to fall to the floor.
Mm. They’re actually doing this.
“Do you—”
“No, you stay there,” Venti says over the sound of a corset hitting the floor. “Have you done this before?”
Xiao’s face burns. “… Once. A very long time ago.”
“Ah, I see,” Venti hums as he unbuttons his shirt. Xiao’s heart takes up an impossible pace at the sight of the Anemo Archon’s bare chest—he’s never seen Venti unclothed before, and he quickly realizes no amount of fantasizing would have lived up to the real thing.
He’s very toned—not ultra muscular, but toned, probably from the bow—and has tattoos. They’re light blue, the same blue that glows in his eyes and his hair when he calls upon Celestia’s power, all straight lines and geometric shapes centered right on his sternum.
“… What are you looking at?”
Venti’s caught him staring. There’s amusement in those sparkly eyes, and Xiao looks away; embarrassing.
“I… didn’t know you had those.”
“I have a few more,” Venti smiles as he goes for his pants, and oh, Xiao has to look away; there’s something lewd about watching Venti undress, even if they’ll both be naked here in a moment. It isn’t something he feels worthy of seeing, as though he doesn’t deserve the pleasure of raking his eyes over Venti’s form.
It’s too tempting, though, way too tempting—he tries covering his face with his hands but it’s no use, for he allows himself to steal sinful glances at the archon between his fingers.
Venti’s pantless now—he’s shimmying out of his tights, smooth skin laid bare for the entire room to see, one more teal tattoo wrapped around his thigh glistening in the moonlight.
He glances at the archon’s face and is greeted by a smile.
“Like what you see?”
He swallows and nods, his ability to lie slipping away from him the closer Venti gets.
He can’t look lower. He’ll implode.
“Xiao,” Venti says quietly, leaning over the edge of the bed, “Come here.”
His body moves on its own, as though responding to Venti’s request like it was a command. Xiao crawls forward, glancing everywhere except his lover, coming to a stop on his knees. He looks at Venti’s face, at that simple, mischievous smile, tilting his head to greet Venti in a deep kiss.
Slim hands undress him between kisses pressed to his lips, face, eyelids, every inch of his upper body as it’s revealed by the removal of his shirt. He can’t help but moan as Venti’s hands detour in their task, gripping and squeezing him in places he wasn’t aware could feel so good, arching his back into his touch.
His entire body is swimming in lust and desire as he kneels before Venti, completely nude and breathless. Venti parts from him and smiles, and gestures for Xiao to stand from the bed.
It's a bit embarrassing to stand straight in front of Venti, completely naked and not touching; when he looks into those green eyes however, his task becomes obvious, and he sinks to his knees.
He presses kisses against that bare chest, across tattooed flesh, trailing his hands down Venti’s chest, abs, his hips and ass while trying to ignore the erection brushing against his stomach. He doesn’t address it until it’s in front of him, until he can’t ignore it anymore.
He wets his lips, tracing the curve of the cock in front of him with his eyes. Larger than he’d imagined, for sure, but nothing egregious; it’s crowned at the base by a heap of small, neatly trimmed black curls that leave a nice happy trail up Venti’s stomach. He isn’t aware he’s practically salivating until he swallows it down, exhaling a very shaky breath; hasn’t done this in a while. He knows it’s what he wants—what Venti wants—and, like so many times before when he’s faced with adversity, he offers a quiet prayer into the surrounding air.
“Barbatos, have mercy,” he whispers before taking Venti into his mouth.
He is… not skilled at this. He’s slow, very slow, fighting a pretty strong gag reflex with the intention to go all the way down. His heart races when his lips finally press against soft black curls; he did it.
He whines around Venti, desperately hoping it feels good for him, strong hands resting on slim hips to keep the archon still. The typical thick musk he’d anticipated clinging to Venti’s groin is instead replaced with the airy scent of cecilias; flowers. Of course a god wouldn’t smell exactly like a human, but there’s an underlying hint of something that’s driving him absolutely insane. There’s an underlying sweet note like the scent of mountains and clear springs, salty like the ocean beneath an afternoon storm, almost like ozone; it acts like an aphrodisiac, replacing all of his worries and nerves with the desire to feel good. It goes straight from his head down his spine to a pit of heat pooling in his stomach, oh, he squeezes his legs together because he is definitely leaking all over himself and the floor right now.
A hand brushes against the crown of his head; the sigh that comes out of Venti’s mouth tells Xiao all he needs to know to begin bobbing his head—
“Barbatos?” Venti says airlessly and quizzically, before gracing Xiao with a smile. “Ah—I see what this is.”
A hand tangles itself in the deep teal locks on the top of his head, fingers scraping his scalp with surprising gentleness. Xiao keens at the touch, moaning around the cock in his mouth as he desperately tries to take Venti further down his throat.
“Is this how you worship your gods, Xiao?”
The question startles him, as though he’s been caught in a lie.
“No,” he exhales with a groan as he pulls away to kiss down the length of Venti’s shaft, continuing to pump the base with his hand, “Just you.”
Only you.
“I’m touched,” Venti purrs, massaging Xiao’s head as his mouth swallows him once more; the shaky exhale the archon gives is akin to a drug Xiao could get addicted to. “Few of my followers have ever cared to show this kind of devotion.”
Xiao pulls away to frown up at Venti, squeezing the base of his cock with his hand. “You’ve had other lovers?”
“Of course; types like you always exist,” Venti says with a soft smile, “devoted followers who will do anything for their god.”
”I hadn’t known,” Xiao says between pressing kisses to the base of the cock in front of him, “I suppose there will be more like me, then?”
An immortal god like you must be constantly searching for satisfaction, then?
“If you were the last of my devoted followers,” Venti says above him, voice heavy and low, “I think I would be quite satisfied.”
Ohhh, it’s taking everything in him to keep that from going to his head. He can’t stop the flush, though, that starts at his collar and rises up his neck, until he’s as red as the apples Venti likes to eat.
He certainly wouldn’t mind being eaten by the archon, totally and inexorably consumed—
“Ohh, Xiao, that’s good,” sounds from above him, and oh, Celestia, it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard.
Any fantasy of what Venti would sound like falling apart is nothing compared to the real thing. His voice is beautiful, as though he were singing, as if every repetition of Xiao’s name were a lyric in a song.
It’s difficult to keep himself together, too; his lower lip trembles with every bob of his head, his throat clenches whenever Venti’s tip passes the threshold of his gag reflex, for the first time in his life he has a desire to quit that is quelled only by the sound of Venti’s voice.
When he can’t handle it anymore, tears beading at the edges of his eyes and rolling halfway down his face as he struggles for air, he finally pulls away.
“Come here,” Venti suddenly says, his voice thick with lust as he pulls Xiao to his feet. He barely has time to think or catch his breath before sweet lips crash against his own, open just barely enough to let Venti in. Their kiss is hot and heavy and an unholy—holy?—mix of tongue and saliva as Xiao lets himself be pushed onto the bed.
Venti nudges his legs out of the way with his own until he’s settled between them, still kissing Xiao, using one hand to pin strong arms above his head while the other leaves trails of fire down his sides. Xiao squirms at being suppressed, gasping when they part, arching his back into the archon’s touch.
“Please,” he whispers, unable to keep the desperation out if his voice, “Please, Barbatos—”
“How long have you been a devotee of the Anemo Archon?”
“Ngh—stop that,” he whines in objection, shaking his head; Venti’s lazily kissing his neck, and oh, he’s being teased, isn’t he—he squirms again, whining at the lack of attention. “Barbatos—Venti—I’m not—”
“Oh, yes you are,” Venti croons into the crook of his neck, shifting his grip on Xiao’s wrists until they’re holding hands. “You can’t just beg for mercy from a god, you know—only devoted followers get to do that.”
“V-Venti—I—”
“Admit it,” Venti says, “Stop denying it. Admit what you are.”
He shakes his head in refusal; he can’t do it, even if it’s true. An admission like that makes it too real—it complicates his lifelong relationship with Liyue, the adepti, with Rex Lapis who is dead and gone and, y’know, probably wouldn’t care if he committed a little idolatry—
Ah, fuck it, whatever.
“I—B-Barbatos,” he stammers, trailing into another moan when Venti bites down onto his neck. “I-I am—ngh—a, ah, d-devoted follower—”
“Good,” Venti hums against his neck; Xiao can barely think, can barely breathe, all that comes out of his throat is moan after moan as Venti frots against him, pressing his hips deeper into the bed with his own. He knows he’s a mess between his legs as their cocks slide against each other, hard and wet and weeping and begging for more.
Venti leans back a bit to delicately kiss Xiao’s lips; it’s soft, so soft, so much softer than a sinner like him deserves. He whines when Venti pulls away, mouth hanging open, craving more of his divine touch.
“Now, tell me what it is you want,” Venti says with a smile; Xiao doesn’t know when he switched to using both hands to pin him to the bed, but it feels good—Venti stretches his arms high above his head, making sure Xiao is securely contained in this position. He tries to squirm, but no luck; the archon is straddling him with surprisingly strong legs.
He is trapped.
He tries to remember the question. “I-I want…” he stammers, unable to get his thoughts in order.
He wants this. Doesn’t want it to stop. Wants Venti, craves him, needs their bodies connected to the point where he can’t tell where he starts and Venti begins. He can’t stop himself from trying to wiggle in Venti’s grip, his entire body singed by the heat of passion and shuddering from the lack of touch.
He knows what he wants. He wants to be endlessly, selflessly devoted, to give away every single part of himself in a way that destroys him. His entire life journey has been one of submission and obedience, and if countless individuals tell him he can do what he wants with his life, then he chooses to completely surrender himself to the god above him.
“I-I—Venti—Barbatos, ngh, I—”
“Hah, good, Xiao—no need to say it, I can see it in your eyes,” Venti smiles, still steadily grinding his hips in circles against Xiao. “I know what you want—you want to worship me, don’t you?”
Xiao’s silence speaks volumes. Venti’s breaths slowly quicken until it becomes obvious he’s laughing at Xiao. Laughing at him while pressing him against the bed like this. Xiao frowns at the cruelty, turning his head to the side to avoid that green gaze.
“I-I don’t—”
“I’m not stopping you,” Venti interrupts sternly, “I want you to do it.”
… Well, who is he to deny the Anemo Archon rightful praise?
“Ngh, Barbatos,” he moans, relishing in the feeling of being pressed against the god; when a hand wraps around his base and Venti’s, his hips jerk up as best as they can, and he tosses his head to the side in a deep, needy whine. Venti leans down, stroking them together at an impossible pace, tangling their tongues together with a hard kiss to his lips.
“Barbatos,” he moans as he’s kissed, “Please. Barbatos.”
“That’s it,” Venti says, his own voice turning into a needy whine, “Just like that.”
Venti frots against him and into his hand, his pace quick, as endless praises and promises of devotion spill from Xiao’s lips. He’ll give anything to Barbatos, all of his body and heart, he wants the god above him so badly he’ll do anything to be seen. Anything to be a disciple worthy of Barbatos’ love.
“Please—ngh, h-have mercy,” he cries when the sensation gets too much, “Mmngh—please, Barbatos—have mercy—nnghf—”
Venti pulls away just when it’s becoming too much, kissing down Xiao’s neck until he’s seated about halfway down his torso. Those slim hands are on him again, abandoning the leaking mess between his legs, squeezing his chest hard while soft lips press kisses against his sternum.
“Please, Barbatos—” Xiao whines, “Stop teasing me—”
“Your piety is admirable,” Venti sighs as he moves to sit on his heels. Xiao is spread wide on the bed below, completely exposed to the archon, hiding nothing. “Your devotion, intoxicating. A disciple like you is what most gods fought wars for, you know.”
Xiao is quiet with a scowl as Venti turns away from him. When he looks back, there’s a perplexed look on his face, erasing all of his earlier passion. “Er… do you have—”
“B-Bottom drawer,” Xiao gasps, throwing his head to the side so he doesn’t have to look at the archon. “Should—should be there.”
“Ah, so you have some already,” Venti hums as he digs around in the drawer for what he’s looking for. Xiao cracks an eye when Venti returns to him, moonlight glinting off the edge of the glass in his hands. “I didn’t think you would.”
“A g-gift,” Xiao gasps when fingers touch his chest, feathering over his muscles, memorizing each dip and curve of his physique. “Once—don’t remember from who—never had a use for it—”
“Oh, Xiao,” Venti smiles as he hoists one of Xiao’s legs up until his hamstring burns, teasing, “It’s a sin to lie to your archon, you know.”
“’M not lying,” Xiao mutters as the hand on his leg moves up his inner thigh to grip his ass. “It’s the truth—”
His voice trails off into a pleased moan at the sensation of fingers pressed against him—it’s a tease, an obvious one, and Xiao just wants Venti to go inside him already. Those fingers rub gentle circles against his entrance, oh, he’s sure he’s a mess down there from his earlier orgasm, the idea of Venti throwing caution to the wind to just plunge inside of him has him quivering like a leaf. His cock jumps against his stomach, hard and leaking, craving the attention that’s being dangled in front of him.
“Oh, you’ve done this before, haven’t you?” Venti teases him again, his tone full of mirth. Xiao would retort, but fuck, he’s slowly melting in Venti’s hands, succumbing to how good it feels—before that hand rudely moves away and all he’s left with is the feeling of cold air brushing against him. He shudders, whimpering.
“I bet you think of me when you do this,” Venti exhales, deep and low and drenched with lust, “You beg for my mercy when you’re alone, don’t you?”
“Celestia—Venti,” Xiao hisses, taking a moment to scowl at the grinning archon above him, “Stop stroking your own ego and get on with it already—!”
He’s rudely interrupted by a very cold, slimy set of digits pressing into him. It’s tight, very tight—probably what happens when you don’t have intercourse over a few hundreds of years—and Venti moves slowly, flexing his fingers in soft motions to help Xiao unwind.
Oh, it’s better than good; it’s divine.
He throws his head back exposing his throat as Venti rubs circles inside of him, delicately scissoring his fingers to stretch Xiao wider. The lubricant is soft against his skin and hot inside of him, and oh—he imagines for a moment it is not those fingers inside of him, but rather Venti himself fucking him into oblivion.
He is on the edge of destruction and he knows it. He’s nothing more than a delicate little boat dancing across waves of a virulent sea; there’s a storm on the horizon, big and dark and threatening to capsize him into an ocean as deep green as Venti’s eyes. Every thrust of those fingers into him is a reminder of the power Venti has over him, that, at any moment, he can send Xiao spiraling to his doom at the bottom of the sea. The wind and water will consume him, he’s sure of it, leaving nothing but a ruined little wreck in their wake.
“Barbatos,” he moans aloud, unable to keep the divine name off his tongue, “Barbatos—ngh, please—more—d-don’t stop, haah—”
He rolls his hips back down in time with the thrusting of those gentle, gentle fingers, cracking a single gold eye open to look at Venti’s face.
The archon is practically glowing. His deep green eyes stare transfixed on his form, his mouth barely open in a look of shock, his face covered from top to bottom in a blush redder than wine. It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful and everything Xiao has ever wanted and he’s right here making Xiao feel so, so good—
“Barbatos,” he gasps, shuddering when those fingers hit some deep bundle of nerves inside of him, working to unwind it, “I-I—I want you—need you—please, mmngh, ah, Barbatos—I—I’ll do anything—mmf, nghah, a-anything for you—”
His hands have become cold and lonely above his head, so he takes them to touch Venti’s face, his hair, trace every dip and curve of his divine body that he can reach.
He wants it. He wants it all. Wants Venti for himself and no one else, he’ll do anything, he’ll commit blasphemy by pledging himself to Barbatos—
Thank Celestia Rex Lapis is dead, because, wooh, if he saw the way Xiao worships another nation’s archon, he’d be crucified!
“I didn’t know you were so zealous, Xiao,” Venti says in surprise as more praises spill from his mouth, “Listen to you—you sound like the choirs in the church—”
“Don’t tell me—mmf, ngh—you’ve fucked the e-entire church choir, Venti!”
“Celestia, of course not,” The archon laughs into the room. “All I’m saying is I didn’t know you could sing like this, Xiao!”
Venti’s breath ghosts against Xiao’s face as he teases in a voice drenched in lust, “I’m certain Barbatos appreciates all forms of worship, especially in the form of a heartfelt song.”
With that, Venti has stolen the wind from Xiao’s sails and he sinks.
“Please, please, Barbatos,” he groans, unable to stop himself from fucking back down on the fingers inside of him, “Please—I need—I-I, ngh, I need you—”
Venti is quiet now, listening to Xiao’s moans, kissing every part of his face that he can reach. Xiao is sore, so sore, but he can’t stop chasing the feeling those fingers give him, not when they hit right against a spot inside of him that makes him see stars—
They’re gone, and he whines at the loss; come on, Venti didn’t have to do that, it felt so good, why did he stop?
“Mmnh—Xiao,” Venti says around a moan, right into his ear. The sensation of those fingers is replaced by a rock hard shaft pressing against his entrance, ground into him with each circle of Venti’s hips.
“Barbatos,” Xiao exhales, spreading his legs wide enough to give searching hands access to every inch of his body. He can see Venti touching himself, oh Celestia, that’s so hot—Yes, this is everything—this is what he wants, he wants it so bad, his body is aching and craving for the sensation of being filled by the god above him. “Please.”
Venti stares at him, all lust drunk and out of breath, as he stills Xiao’s hips and pushes in.
Oh, it burns—only for a moment. Venti is slow and steady when he pushes in, making sure Xiao’s hips are steady, using his palms to rub gentle circles against them. Reassurance.
It’s okay, you’re okay. Tell me if anything’s wrong.
He feels so full when Venti bottoms out. The archon is flush against his chest, chin tucked against his collar, breathing heavy, green eyes shut tight with furrowed brows; Xiao swallows, turning his face to kiss Venti’s cheek; the action seems to spur him on, and he begins to move.
Oh Celestia. It is better than anything Xiao could have ever imagined.
His strokes are slow and languid and leave Xiao shuddering after each one; he huffs and groans into Venti’s ear with each thrust, black hair tickling his nose and lips as he loses himself in the feelings.
Fuck—too much, too good, he’s so deep and it feels so good and his cock feels amazing, wonderful, I love this—I love him—I love him, I love him—
He can feel how deep Venti gets, how each thrust throws his cock deeper inside, steadily quickening in pace until Venti is fucking him into the sheets.
“Fuck,” he hears Venti moan when the hands by his sides slither beneath him to grip his ass. He moves his legs higher, moaning at how much deeper the cock inside him reaches when he locks his ankles together behind Venti’s back. Green eyes flash to his own and a hand snags his against the sheets as Venti drawls, “K-Keep doing that, yeah?”
He nods, following Venti’s form as he rises above him, deepening their angle as he’s pressed further into the mattress. Venti’s holding his hands above his head by his wrists, his cock brushing against that bundle of nerves deep inside him with each thrust. There’s tears running down his face as Venti’s name escapes in broken parts, he’s being ruined by the god above him.
“Barbatos,” he shouts, throwing his head back and shuddering when he’s hit somewhere impossibly deep, right near his core, “Ah—please—ngh, ah—Barbatos—”
“Haah—Xiao,” says that lovely, beautiful, breathy voice, in a tone that’s just the right frequency to destroy him.
“Please,” he cries, his mind scrambled just like his stomach as Venti hits him again and again and again, relishing in how it feels—he could very easily become addicted to this feeling. “Please—don’t stop—it’s so good—please—”
“Xiao,” Venti says, leaning down to touch his forehead to Xiao’s, a surprisingly intimate action that makes him melt, “Xiao—you’re so lovely—you’re beautiful—”
Venti kisses his forehead, his face, his cheeks, his mouth, and something inside of him tightens and spills over.
A long wail broken by a name—“Venti, Venti, Venti,”—spills from his mouth as he cums. There’s a hand on his quivering cock an instant, keeping in time with each thrust, pumping him to completion as he completely unravels. Venti’s mouth is all over his face as he rides his high, back arched and shaking from the force of his orgasm. His mind relaxes to blissful nothingness as the archon above gasps his name into his ear.
His pleasure slowly leaks into overstimulation and he’s soon shaking with each thrust, unable to say anything beyond Venti’s name. His fingers shake and tremble against Venti’s shoulders, his thighs burn from holding his legs against his back, but he doesn’t stop—not when Venti’s synchronization falters and his thrusts become erratic, punctuated only by the sound of his name.
“Xiao, haah,” Venti moans into his ear when it becomes too much, “Xiao, Xiao—Xiao—I’m—”
His words give way to another loud moan as he thrusts once, twice, three times, before he’s finally tipped over the edge. He cums, hard, against Xiao, voice quivering in his ear as he suppresses the adeptus against the bed; It’s hot and it’s warm and it fills Xiao’s inside in a way that leaves him shaking; he’s a trembling mess when his legs relax, absolutely ruined, while Venti slumps against him to catch his breath.
“Celestia,” Venti moans into the bed, his voice turning up into a whine at the end. “Xiao—Celestia, Xiao—”
Venti presses a long, wet kiss to his face, before sliding off of him and falling to his side. They lay there on their backs in silence, staring at the ceiling while they recover.
Celestia. Celestia. That was amazing. Better than he could have ever imagined. He’s so spent but he wants so much more, his body aches from the memory of that cock inside of him—he craves it, wants it, needs it back inside of him until he can’t think.
He’d really, really like to cuddle next to Venti, though he isn’t sure he can move; his chest heaves as he reaches for the archon’s hand, his eyelids heavy with the threat of sleep.
He is exhausted. Satisfied and exhausted.
Venti takes his hand in his own, entangling their fingers and giving a reassuring squeeze.
I’m not leaving.
“Venti,” he says, though it comes out disjointed; he can audibly hear that Venti is just as wrecked as he is, head thrown back against a pillow as they lie face up, side by side next to each other.
“Yes, Xiao?”
He swallows. There is only one thought in his head after being thoroughly railed by the archon: a single, sweet phrase that’s been at the edge of his thoughts of Venti for a long, long time.
“I… I love you.”
The words feel foreign and familiar when he says them. He says it alongside the realization that it’s true, he loves this man, this bard, the archon laying next to him in the wake of their activities.
“Y’know,” Venti says with a half chuckle, “I think I knew that.”
Xiao frowns.
“This isn’t funny—”
“It isn’t,” Venti says with a happy sigh, turning his head to face Xiao. Golden eyes stare into green that swim with satisfaction, appreciation, and a hint of an emotion Xiao can’t describe beyond foreign to him. “It isn’t funny… adorable is what it is.”
“Stop it.”
Venti rolls onto his side, leaning over Xiao’s chest, beaming. “Nope. You don’t have birthday privileges anymore.”
…
“… So, then—”
“Tonight was not a birthday privilege,” Venti is quick to correct, his confidence quickly shifting to awkwardness. “This is—we can do this again. We should. I want to.”
Xiao is silent. He can’t believe what he’s hearing right now.
“Venti—”
“I mean, that’s really only if you want to—”
“W-When will you come back to Liyue?”
An innocent question disguised his intentions, and he’s thankful Venti seems to understand what he’s saying, for directly asking for it out loud after being railed into bedsheets some poor soul will have to clean tomorrow by an archon is going to make him combust.
Venti smiles.
“I was meant to stay in the harbor for a bit, you know,” he says airily, “I was going to visit a friend down on that vessel off the coast—since I have to pass back through here anyway to get back to Mondstadt, let’s say… three days?”
Three whole days!?
Xiao nods. The prospect of doing this again so soon is exciting, very exciting, even if it’s impossible for him to admit it.
“… Mm.”
Venti laughs, light and airy, at his response; even after all they’ve done tonight, he can’t stop himself from blushing; there’s a chaste kiss pressed to his cheek, and he turns, replacing the soft flesh of his face with his battered lips.
“Now that that’s settled,” Venti sighs, the last few words coming out with a yawn as he settles against Xiao’s chest, ”Let’s—mm—get some sleep, hmm? And none of this ‘adepti don’t sleep’ nonsense—rest.”
Xiao finds himself too exhausted to argue; he brings a hand up to hold Venti’s chest, burying his face in soft black strands, letting the rhythmic pulse of the god’s heart above him lull him into secure sleep.
That night, he dreams. It’s a lovely, simple dream, where he’s staring at a beautiful, cloudless blue sky, the wind ruffling his hair, while small, white flowers dance at his feet. There’s warmth on his hand and his face, and when he looks to his side, it’s to greet a warm smile beneath flowing braids of blue.
When he wakes, the memories of the night before are nothing more than a dream.
It’s a lovely dream, he thinks—but no, he will not be drinking that much alcohol again and will not let himself get so far gone that he loses control of his subconscious.
Besides, he thinks as he wakes, scowling at the mess across his abdomen; great. Not only does he have some very awkward exchanges with Verr Goldet about the state of his sheets in his future, but his feelings for the Anemo Archon are so strong that they’re manifesting beyond a simple dream.
Ugh, he should not have let himself go last night. Just because it’s his birthday doesn’t mean he can let himself go like that… plus, the marsh! His duty! How can he call himself the Conqueror of Demons if he gets so drunk he can’t even fight?
By the time he’s clean and clothed again, vision safely against his wrist (seriously… he even took this off last night? What the hell was he thinking?) he’s a little annoyed with himself and the world.
He exits his room after tearing the sheets off his bed, trying not to let his ire burst forward as he approaches the inn’s central staircase. He’s in his own head as he descends down the steps, unable to look at Verr Goldet—and, as a result, he completely ignores the wide-eyed look on her face.
“Ah, Adeptus Xiao,” she calls after him, though he has half a mind to teleport away and completely disregard her words. “Your, er, friend is eating breakfast down below—”
He stops.
“… What friend?”
“Your bard friend,” she says, placing her hands on her hips and shooting him a frown, “The one from Mondstadt—the one who helped you to bed last night with the Traveler, who looked after you while you slept off your drunkenness.”
Ah.
So… it wasn’t a dream.
Ourgh… just makes the morning way more embarrassing, really.
His body moves before he has time to think; he needs to confirm this with his own eyes. In a flash of anemo, down at the entrance to the marsh in an instant, scanning across the tables filled by travelers of all sorts—
—and there, at the edge of one of the tables, is a young man clad in green, facing the cascading hills beyond Stone Gate that give way to Mondstadt’s cliffs.
Ah. He is here.
He tries not to run over to the archon, but can’t keep the spring out of his step. His dream last night—haha, it wasn’t a dream, that really happened—is fresh on his mind when he approaches the table, standing quietly while waiting for Venti to notice him.
He swallows upon hearing a sigh, unable to stop his heart from quickening in his chest—ugh, what is he, some pitiful human?—upon meeting those green eyes. There’s a gentle smile on his face as he gestures for Xiao to sit down with a fork, and he does, eyeing the food on the table before them.
“I asked Verr Goldet if they could make any Mondstadt specialty items,” he sighs, once more gazing into the distance, “And to my surprise, she said they could!”
He looks at the food in front of them. There’s an assortment of meat and bread and eggs that he’s never seen before, half eaten on his plate.
There’s the sound of metal clattering before there’s a hand on Xiao’s, and Venti’s asking him in a low, almost sultry voice, “How are you feeling?”
“… Fine.” He thinks. “My head is… only barely sore.”
Venti passes him the glass he’d no doubt been drinking from, swirling with clear liquid. “Just water,” the archon assures, “It should help with your head.”
He nods, taking a sip, accidentally downing the whole thing. He glances at Venti in apology, who only smiles and tightens his grip on Xiao’s hand.
“… Thanks.”
“Of course,” Venti sighs, “Though… I wasn’t only talking about your head.”
Xiao winces; he’s apprehensive to think about the night before. It has been wonderful, so wonderful, better than anything he’s experienced in millennia—and he worries that focusing on it too much for too long will affect his prospects of experiencing it again.
After all, loving the Anemo Archon couldn’t be a simple feat, not when the god’s entire nature was one of constant motion and continuous change.
“I’m good,” is all Xiao says in response, taking a moment to glance into those pretty jade depths. Ah, he could stare at Venti for hours, admiring his beauty. “I’m… it was good.”
“Just good?”
He frowns. “You know what I mean.”
“I know, I know,” the archon laughs, taking another bite from his plate, “I’m only teasing you—you make some very cute faces when you’re frustrated, you know.”
“Venti.”
“Hehe, come on, Xiao,” Venti says with a slight whine, batting his eyelashes at Xiao—that’s a dangerous move, because it has the ability to make Xiao do whatever the archon wants of him. “I know it was a lot better than good for you—and I must agree, otherwise I wouldn’t be returning so soon.”
“I didn’t know you’re that excited to see me again.”
“Of course I want to see you again,” the archon sighs, “And I will—in 3 days, just like I promised. I won’t be leaving you alone for too long.”
He has no words. He isn’t used to being teased like this, especially when that person is someone he’s spent ages pining over. Venti must notice his face all scrunched up, for he laughs and stands from his seat, casting a few mora down onto the table.
“Well, Xiao,” he says, straightening his cloak and readjusting his hat, “I want to apologize for leaving you alone this morning—I have to get on the road soon, you see, and spending another moment with you would have affected my travel plans. But…”
He trails off, leaning towards Xiao to cup his face with a hand. There’s lips pressed against his forehead in a soft, sweet kiss, and when he looks at the archon again, he’s smiling warmly down at him.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
It’s only three days!
Xiao can’t retort at all because Venti is somehow halfway to the exit of the inn’s grounds, waving back at him without a care in the world. He sits there at the table with the remainder of Venti’s breakfast, his head and heart a mess as his mind scrambles over the implications brought on by his words.
Venti can’t wait to see him again… and it’s only three days away!
Oh, he can barely handle the anticipation! So soon but so far… he can’t focus like this at all!
He’s back in his room in an instant, breathing heavily, cursing the effect Venti has on him. How dare he mess with Xiao’s life like this, using his emotions against him to get him all wound up! He flops face first onto his stripped bed like a blushing schoolgirl, his mind focused on a single thought.
Three days. He’ll be back in three days.
Oh, how wonderful it will be when I see him again!