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“I hadn’t imagined that a curse could look so… cute,” Lisa is saying when Kaeya throws open the library door.

“I’ve come to return your books under threat of getting zapped,” announces Kaeya, waving the two thick tomes he’d tucked under his elbow. “But it seems I walked into a party.”

“Two’s not a party.” The other figure tucked away at the corner table with Lisa has a hood pulled over his hair, but the fiery ponytail streaming over his shoulder is unmistakable. As is his voice and his clipped inflection. “Do you have a sixth sense for intruding where you’re unwelcome, Sir Kaeya?”

Slinking over to where they’re seated, Kaeya stacks Lisa’s books up along the edge of the tabletop. “Unless this entire library has recently teleported without my knowledge, I seem to recall that we’re inside the Knights of Favonius headquarters. You know, my workplace? Where I’m required to be every day?”

“Hmph,” goes Diluc, like a wet cat.

Kaeya beams winningly. “What’s your excuse, Master Diluc?”

“Do play nice, Kaeya,” Lisa sighs. “He’s been afflicted by a curse from the ruins.”

“Nothing life-threatening, I assume?”

“I wish it was,” says Diluc. “Then I’d never have to speak to you again.”

“Tch.” Kaeya leans over Lisa’s chair and pats her shoulder in apology when the feather trim of his cape makes her sneeze. “As if I’d let you off that easy even in death. If all your organs are intact, what’s the big deal?”

“Well,” Lisa begins, but Diluc shoots her a look so frosty that she snaps her mouth promptly shut. Now Kaeya’s invested.

“You’ve dropped off the books. Don’t you have a job to be getting back to? Since, after all, we are in your workplace.”

“Undoing a curse sounds like plenty of work to me. What’s under the hood?”

“Don’t touch me,” Diluc snaps, batting Kaeya’s hand away. His cheeks have turned an interesting shade of red as though striving to match his hair. “It’s none of your business.”

Kaeya pouts. “Aw, but Lisa says it’s cute, though.”

“Very,” whispers Lisa. “Shockingly, even.”

“Shockingly cute! You heard her. I’ll die if you don’t indulge my curiosity just a little bit.”

Diluc feigns great interest in the wood grain of the table. “Then die.”

“I guess I walked into that one.” Kaeya peers around Diluc’s shoulders, where the hood opens into a cloak that flows down his back and bunches around his seat. A little too bunched, actually. There’s volume underneath the cloak’s length, irregular and twitching. A living creature? He sidesteps Lisa to get a better look.

“Hey, what do you think you’re—I said don’t touch me—Kaeya,” splutters Diluc, but the damage is done. One of Kaeya’s hands holds the hem of Diluc’s cloak, lifted just high enough to reveal the defensively hunched slope of his back. The other one is mildly incapacitated, because around his wrist Diluc has wrapped a plush crimson tail. Kaeya blinks hard, thinking perhaps he’s seen wrong, but it’s still there when he opens his eyes, still velvety soft against the gentle thrumming of his pulse.

“Master Diluc,” says Kaeya slowly, “do you by any chance have cat ears? On top of your head?”

Diluc’s fierce scowl is offset by the deepening flush in his cheeks, a tell that Kaeya’s right on the money.

With the sort of delicacy usually reserved for handling fine glassware, Lisa tugs the hood back from Diluc’s face, and Diluc, resigning himself to his fate, allows her. It’s all Kaeya can do to maintain a straight face because Lisa was right—the ears are cute. They’re adorable, in fact, colored the same red of his hair and tail and just as fluffy, twitching slightly as the corners of Diluc’s mouth turn further and further down. This only makes him look like a sulky kitten, and Kaeya really can’t bite back his grin any longer.

“Stop laughing at me.” Definitely sulking. “Lisa, do you not have an office where we could continue this conversation?”

“I’m afraid I mostly work right in here,” says Lisa, studiously pretending that a smile isn’t twitching at her mouth, too, “but our esteemed Cavalry Captain does have an office if you’re inclined to seek privacy.”

Diluc gapes at her, betrayed.

“You might remember it’s got a lovely view from the window,” Kaeya offers.

“No, thank you,” says Diluc primly. “If there’s nothing to be done about my situation at present, I’ll be taking my leave.”

Lisa clears her throat. “Yes, well, I’ll keep looking. I’m sure something useful will turn up eventually.”

“It had better,” Diluc all but growls, and only then does he glance down at Kaeya’s arm and realize that his tail is still wound firmly around it. He jumps, reddening impossibly deeper, then fumbles to untangle the tail with his hands. “Sorry,” he says stiffly. “I haven’t quite… figured out how to manage this thing yet.” And then he’s gathering his cloak around himself and hurrying out of the library without sparing a single look back.

Kaeya watches his retreating figure, rubbing absently at his wrist.




It’s a curious thing, this curse. Since learning of its existence, Kaeya has devoted a not inconsequential number of his spare hours to researching alongside Lisa, but beyond a few scrolls that mention transfiguration runes in brief, their search has turned up just about nothing. Without a promising lead, Kaeya turns to the only source in the city with any experience on the matter.

“Why would I know anything about curses,” says Diona, measuring an alarming quantity of tomato juice into a glass of dandelion wine. She squints at it, then adds an ingredient that suspiciously resembles slime condensate.

“I expect you’re not planning to give that to your patrons,” Kaeya remarks, leaning an elbow across the bar.

“Sure am.” Skating a fingertip around the rim, she frosts the glass with Cryo. “I hope it tastes terrible.”

Kaeya holds onto his response until she’s served the monstrosity to a scuffed-up bard down the bar and observed his reaction to the first sip—pleased, somehow. Whether Diona really can’t mix a bad drink to save her life or the clientele of the Cat’s Tail are all suffering from grievous tastebud injuries, Kaeya still hasn’t determined. Finally, she marches back to his barstool and props her tiny fists on her hips, glaring up at him. “Well?” she demands. “Why would I?”

“It’s a special sort of curse that makes you grow cat ears and a tail—”

“I was born with these,” snaps Diona, increasingly offended. “Nobody hexed them onto me. They’re genetic.”

Kaeya spreads his hands. “Apologies, I never meant to imply they weren’t. I was only wondering what might make them appear on someone else.”

“Well, I got mine from my dad, so you could start with examining the Ragnvindr family tree for clues.”

“No, I’m positive this was magical interfer—wait, how did you know I was asking for Diluc?”

Diona turns away with something like a smile pulling at her mouth for the first time since Kaeya had walked in. “He came in an hour ago to ask me the same question. I swear, you two are more alike than either of you realize.”

“Huh,” says Kaeya, considering this the way that you might consider an especially smooth stone picked up from the side of a riverbank. He holds the thought in his mind and turns it over and over, as if marinating it throughout the day will wear its edges glossy the way that rubbing a stone with your palm tends to.

He’s still thinking about it when he runs into Diluc again, this time as the sun is vanishing in a splay of liquid orange behind the cathedral.

“Oh,” says Diluc, stopping short. He’s still wearing the stupid cloak, for which Kaeya supposes he can’t fault him; the uncrowned king of Mondstadt wandering the streets with a pair of kitty ears and a tail to match wouldn’t exactly go unnoticed. “It’s you.”

“As I’ve reminded you previously, I do work here,” says Kaeya, gesturing pointedly at the steps leading up to the Knights’ headquarters a dozen paces behind Diluc. “Why are you sneaking around in disguise?”

“Lisa told me… she thought she’d found new… information…” Diluc trails off, watching in horror as his tail unwinds himself from under the cloak and gravitates towards Kaeya’s hand, so much like a yearning sunflower. “I’m not doing that on purpose,” he says helplessly. “It just does that now.”

“Yeah?” Kaeya weaves the white-tipped end of Diluc’s tail between his fingers and gives a soft, experimental tug.

Diluc produces a throaty sound that can only be described as a purr of satisfaction before clapping one hand over his mouth and snatching his tail away with the other one. “We’re in public, Sir Kaeya,” he hisses, but the effect is dampened somewhat by the fascinating recurrence of roses in his cheeks. “What if someone had noticed?”

Kaeya laughs, just as punctuation, but in his head he’s replaying that purr with almost obsessive fascination—the musical, lilting cadence of it, the flutter of Diluc’s eyelids. “Careful there, or I might start thinking you’re happy to see me.”

Diluc tries in vain to discreetly tuck his shirt around his tail, but it gives a stubborn curl and weaves back towards Kaeya’s warmth, his skin.

“Oh my,” says Kaeya, stroking one fingertip along the tail’s underside. “Now I’ll be entirely too emboldened. Whatever shall we do then?”

If Diluc was going to try and come up with a smartass answer, it must have died in his mouth, because at Kaeya’s touch he closes his eyes and shivers delicately from head to toe. When his eyes blink open, his pupils have dilated to double their original size, massive and glossy, leaving only a hair’s breadth of brilliant red around their circumference. His lips part.

For some reason, Kaeya shivers too. His gaze drifts down to Diluc’s mouth, that faint gleam where it opens, where it’s wet. His heart lurches in his chest. “How… did you get cursed?” he coughs out in a feeble attempt to pick the conversation back up. It shouldn’t matter—with Diluc, the small talk has always been an accessory, not a crutch—but at this moment, silently looking at Diluc’s flushed, open face in the opulent glow of sundown seems like the worst possible thing Kaeya could do.

“I was investigating some ruins outside the city,” says Diluc once he’s collected himself somewhat. “There was an inscription in the center of the innermost room that triggered when I touched it.”

Kaeya licks his lips. “Why’d you touch it?”

Diluc’s gaze trembles a little, following the motion of Kaeya’s tongue. “I don’t know,” he murmurs. “I guess I’ve never known when to leave well enough alone.”




“Aha!” Lisa plucks a heavy sheaf of notes from the highest shelf, waving it through the air, a trophy. “You can put me down now.”

Kaeya kneels to let her off his shoulders. “Found something good?”

“I hope so.” Lisa blows the dust off the cover and winces when most of it drifts right into Kaeya’s face. “Oops.”

“I’m going to hope those weren’t deadly spores of some kind. What’s it say?”

“Let’s see… oh. My mistake. What we needed was Volume 3. This is Volume 13.”

“How do you accidentally skip ten volumes ahead,” says Kaeya, disbelieving. “Am I meant to carry you around the library all week while you make up your mind? I have reports to sign off on, you know!”

Lisa swats at him with the notes, ignoring his attempts to brush off the accumulating dust. “You don’t read your field reports anyway.”

“That’s patently untrue,” Kaeya lies.

“Hm. Well, I think I’ve figured out where to find the materials we’re looking for, but it’ll be a day trip out of town. Maybe longer.” Huffing, Lisa gathers her skirts and glides past him. “I hope I don’t have to go all the way to Liyue to track this down. The things we do for Diluc, honestly!”

Kaeya flounders in her wake. “We?”

“Yes, we. Haven’t you been in here with me since morning? While the stack of paperwork on your desk is steadily piling up, no less. Had I known earlier that you’d make such a meticulous research assistant, Captain, I would have enlisted your help months ago.”

“As much as I’d love to stick around and file your decomposing texts,” Kaeya says, “we both know that my talents are too varied to confine to just one field.”

Lisa wags one accusatory finger. “And we both know the reason that you’ve taken to such scholarly pursuits as of late, right?”

Briefly, Kaeya thinks of Diluc’s plaintive eyes and wet mouth, the few curls escaping his hood turned into wisps of fire by the dying sun behind him. “I know no such thing.”

“Hmm,” Lisa says again, somehow even more haughty the second time. “You can lie to the rest of us, but I hope you don’t intend on continuing to lie to yourself.”

Of course, lying is one of the things Kaeya does best and most often. He’s been painting over and reshaping the events of his own history, his own wants, for as long as he can remember. Like all skills, it required much practice, and eventually he grew adept enough at masking his knee-jerk reactions that it came as easy as breathing. And then things began to collapse backwards.

He can’t pinpoint the catalyst, but he suspects the month that the outlander had come to Mondstadt and collected all sorts of chaos in a trail behind him. Kaeya had spoken to and about Diluc more times in that month than he had in probably the entire rest of the year put together. It was like the city shrank and then shrank again, leaving them with no choice but to knock knees and elbows around every corner. The Angel’s Share again began to loom at the horizon of Kaeya’s consciousness, and with it a tide of emotion he had no desire to address. The cavity that Diluc had shaped inside him all those years ago ached sharper than ever before, and the closer Kaeya drew to Diluc again, the more intensely he felt that hollowness—like a homing beacon, like Diluc was always the problem and the solution.

Maybe the truth is that after fighting it for so long, Kaeya has just grown tired. He’s not sure; after all, truth is not typically the currency in which he deals.

He hadn’t intended it to confront it, either, when he doubled back on his patrol route that evening. The tavern just so happened to be on his way—well, sort of, if taking a shortcut through two twisting back alleys counts. Diluc doesn’t need to know that.

“Sir Kaeya,” he says grimly at the chiming of the door. “I believe the sign outside says ‘closed.’ Or does Jean no longer ensure that the knights in her employ are literate?”

“Tough talk from a man with cat ears on his head,” chirps Kaeya, savoring Diluc’s immediate frown. “I’m surprised you’re here at all. Isn’t the risk of being adorable in public too severe?”

Diluc buffs a glass dry with a vengeance. “Charles worked the bar tonight. I only came down to clean and lock up.”

“And with all your… accoutrements out in the open, too.” It’s a bit surprising that Diluc would leave his ears uncovered, but then again, no one who doesn’t work at Angel’s Share would probably dare come inside after closing. No one except Kaeya, that is.

“Yes, I’m thinking of stealing Diona’s shtick. Maybe cat hybrids are the new alcohol marketing trend,” says Diluc, going so far as to roll his eyes. He’d never be this bratty with anyone else, and it thrills Kaeya just a little. Diluc folds his towel on the counter and sets the glass on top. “Let me be direct. Why are you in my tavern?”

Kaeya sidles up to the bar. “I can’t visit you just because?”

“Absolutely not.” As firmly as Diluc commands his voice, Kaeya can’t help but be endeared as soon as the tail flicks into view. It bats at the hem of Diluc’s coat before curving across the bar counter, to Kaeya, as always. Diluc snatches it midway.

“Looks like some part of you disagrees.”

“This isn’t me,” Diluc hisses. He looks oddly nervous, almost small, still clutching his tail to his chest in one pale hand. A wisp of bright hair has come loose from his ponytail and flutters to rest at his collarbone.

For all that Kaeya loves to push, even he knows that here is where he should stop. But today, for whatever reason, he’s compelled to go an inch further. Maybe it’s the flush that has settled high on Diluc’s cheekbones, the same one that’s been appearing suspiciously often as of late. Maybe his own survival instincts have deteriorated beyond repair.

Kaeya flits a hand up to pet briefly at one of Diluc’s ears, silken and quivering. “If you ask me to, I’ll go, you know.”

Diluc’s head shifts by minute degrees until his face is turned into the cup of Kaeya’s palm, the curve of his cheek fitted against Kaeya’s glove. He inhales, shuddery, like Kaeya’s presence and scent alone are doing the convincing. “Let’s talk upstairs,” he says.

And he probably really meant to. Talk, that is. But they’ve no sooner made it up the stairs than the tail batting at the hem of Diluc’s coat wraps snug across Kaeya’s palm, and, to Diluc’s evident horror, tugs it forwards and down until his hand is pressed flat to the small of Diluc’s back. His tail encircles Kaeya’s waist in kind and then, cautiously, his arms follow.

The words dry up in Kaeya’s throat when he attempts to speak. He clears his throat and again finds nothing. Although they’ve endeavored towards tentative reconciliation, and these days Diluc is curt with him more out of habit than hostility, Kaeya had figured that this kind of touching would remain off the table forever.

Diluc has not embraced him in some long years, and the familiarity follows after a beat, dizzying, a backhand to the face.

“Kaeya,” whispers Diluc without a trace of his usual resignation or amusement. His hands flex uncertainly. “Kaeya, I,” he tries again, and it sounds like want.

“I’ve got you,” says Kaeya, and this sounds like honesty.

Abruptly Kaeya remembers a scene from their childhood, one of his oldest regrets. They’d been fresh from their noontime lessons, sprawled halfway across each other on the banks of a pond. The thick of spring, and Diluc’s birthday was the next week. Tell me what you want, Kaeya had insisted, flopping over on his side to stare at the cut of afternoon light against Diluc’s cheekbone. Anything! I’ll get it for you.

Having grown up cradled in the highest boughs of privilege, Diluc wanted for little. Kaeya had been with him for several years by then, but still he faltered under the endless options, nervous that whatever he found wouldn’t be enough. There’s not much to give to someone who already has everything.

Diluc had pillowed his head on his arm and stared back. “Give me a kiss, then,” he’d said, all in a rush, darting his eyes away the moment it left his mouth. A dusting of pink had feathered across his face.

Even now, Kaeya recalls acutely how his entire chest had seized up, the constriction of his throat. At fourteen, Diluc was already the most beautiful boy he’d ever met in his life. Kaeya been stunned into silence at the opportunity for something he didn’t know he wanted and later craved with desperation. He’d ended up laughing it off, transparently nervous, and Diluc never brought it up again.

The Diluc of the present is impossibly more beautiful and even closer, trembling in the ring of Kaeya’s arms. “Don’t make me ask for it,” he says weakly. And maybe he’s never known when to leave well enough alone, but neither has Kaeya, as the records will show.

“I can’t read your mind anymore,” says Kaeya, smoothing his hand up and down the base of Diluc’s spine. That last word slips out unbidden. He represses a wince. “Won’t know unless you show me, hmm?”

Diluc groans, fists his hands in the open collar of Kaeya’s shirt, and lunges in to kiss him.

Kaeya stumbles a pace forward, the remaining distance between them closed. It’s been years since he felt that they were not evenly matched, that Diluc had the upper hand physically, and this time it’s not so much by strength as it is surprise. Diluc kisses like a man starved, mouth feverishly hot. He moans, shuddering, when Kaeya’s grip tightens around his waist.

“At least open the door,” Kaeya breaks away to murmur. Their lips unstick with an obscenely wet sound that summons a roiling heat to his gut. “The young master is so impatient.”

Diluc fishes the key from his pocket as gracefully as he can with Kaeya pressed up against his back, hands on Diluc’s hips, aligning them in a torturously slow grind. Kaeya kisses wetly at the curve of his jaw while Diluc curses and fumbles with the lock. He’s scarcely cracked the door before Kaeya is shouldering past and pinning him to the bedroom wall.

A reflexive annoyance ignites in Diluc’s eyes. He grabs Kaeya’s shoulders back, shifting his weight like they’re about to spar, like this is another one of the countless contests of their adolescence, when Kaeya drops to his knees.

“Oh,” Diluc says. Kaeya slithers a hand up to each of Diluc’s thighs and pushes them apart, wedging himself in between so that he’s face-level with Diluc’s groin. And again Diluc says, “Oh,” only this time it comes out as more of a sigh. Each of his ears give a little twitch.

Grinning, Kaeya goes for his belt next. When the pants are undone, he lingers for a moment, teetering on the edge of indecision. The corded muscle along Diluc’s thighs tenses impatiently below his palms.

“Get on with it,” he orders. “If you’d rather I find someone else—”

Kaeya leans forward and fits his mouth over the clothed bulge of Diluc’s cock, and the complaints promptly sputter to their death. He presses his tongue against Diluc’s straining cockhead, already soaking through the fabric, and flicks. Diluc trembles, full-bodied and delicious. He cants his hips forward.

“Have you thought about this?” says Kaeya, lofty in his practiced way. After some consideration, he frees Diluc from the constraints of his underclothes, but he keeps his fingers loosely wrapped around the base until he gets his answer.

Diluc groans, his tail fluttering haplessly.

“I do believe I asked you a question,” Kaeya chides.

“Fuck you,” Diluc hisses.

“Possibly,” agrees Kaeya, “in due time. But first—” He squeezes the ring of his fingers a few degrees too tight for comfort.

A few seconds elapse, and Diluc grows harder still in Kaeya’s hand. A pearl of milky precome wells up from his slit.

“Fine,” says Diluc, dropping his back against the wall with a petulant thud. He won’t meet Kaeya’s eyes when he admits it. “Yes. Often.”

“Good boy,” Kaeya purrs, and then he opens his mouth and swallows Diluc all the way down to the base.

He’s thought about this too, obviously. He’s thought about taking Diluc in every way imaginable—like this, on his knees, or the two of them rutting in some semi-public alcove, or Diluc sprawled out under him on the bed, flushed and begging—this last image spurs a wanton moan to escape around Diluc’s cock, and the hands in Kaeya’s hair clench desperately.

Kaeya tightens the ring of his lips as he pulls off, pressing a wet kiss to the tip of Diluc’s cock. He trails a few more down the side of the shaft, close-mouthed in some imitation of chastity. His fingers follow, a dusting of Cryo at his fingertips just to make Diluc shiver. “Feel nice?” he asks.

Diluc’s small, red mouth tightens impossibly further.

With a laugh—because he has it on good authority that he sucks cock like a champion and also because Diluc is so pretty like this, dripping and exposed and at entirely at Kaeya’s mercy—Kaeya decides to be generous. He dips his head and takes Diluc into his mouth again, unabashed about the way saliva pools at the corners of his mouth or the filthy sound it makes, and cups Diluc’s balls with his unoccupied hand. It takes hardly another minute before Diluc is coming down Kaeya’s throat without much warning besides the stuttered moan he bites off into his glove.

Kaeya sits back on his haunches and wipes his mouth. Diluc had managed to keep relatively quiet even throughout his orgasm, which is disappointing, but that just means Kaeya has to try harder during the next one. He’s also impressively still hard.

“Was my mouth not enough for you?” says Kaeya, skimming his cool knuckles up Diluc’s oversensitive shaft. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or hurt.”

Diluc makes a despairing noise at the touch. “It’s this curse,” he grits out. “Nothing is enough—all the time, I feel like—can’t be around you without—”

“Poor baby,” Kaeya sympathizes. He almost wants to laugh again, just out of delirious joy, but that would only make Diluc more self-conscious and uptight. Instead, he slips his hand further back past the apex of Diluc’s thighs, mostly intending to tease—and restrains a groan himself when he feels that Diluc is wet here, too. Under his inquisitive touch, Diluc’s hole flutters and releases a fresh wash of slick.

“Kaeya?” Diluc asks after a moment.

It takes a long moment for even just a little blood to flow back to Kaeya’s brain instead of his dick, during which Diluc’s thighs attempt to clamp shut. And Kaeya can’t have that, not now, when Diluc is like this—for him—

“On the bed,” he murmurs, straightening up to shuck his shirt off. “Take off your coat, at least. These sheets look clean.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Diluc says, glaring, but he loses the coat and, after a second’s hesitation, everything else, too. The ears look somehow more appealing like this, like an obscene accessory, and his tail flicks nervously over his bare, flushed cock as if to protect his modesty. He yanks aside the blanket and crawls onto the bed to escape attention, but all it does it draw Kaeya’s eyes to his pert ass.

Kaeya kneels over him once he’s stripped likewise, weaving his fingers into the thick base of Diluc’s ponytail. He tugs once, experimentally. His breath catches in his throat when Diluc turns his head willingly, the line of his throat pale and vulnerable. “Master Diluc is so greedy,” he says, thumbing at the hinge of Diluc’s jaw. “You came once, but you already want me again.”

“I don’t need—”

“Dripping for my cock,” continues Kaeya as if Diluc hadn’t spoken, running both hands down to Diluc’s ass to pull his cheeks apart.

“Your mouth is vulgar,” says Diluc, still aiming for haughty as if he isn’t naked under Kaeya’s hands.

“The absolute worst,” Kaeya agrees before hiking Diluc’s thigh up over his shoulder and licking a broad stripe over Diluc’s twitching hole. And finally, finally—

Diluc mewls, pushing his ass back towards Kaeya’s face. “Don’t tease.” No one would mistake this for anything but the plea it is. He’s desperate now, breath hitching every time Kaeya spreads him further open to lick at him, dropping kisses at his glistening pink rim. “Kaeya, come on.”

Kaeya hums, dipping the point of his tongue just barely into him. “You’ll have to ask a bit more politely.”

“Please,” gasps Diluc. He rolls onto his hands and knees, the long slope of his back dipping into a sinuous curve. His tail, now matted and wet at the base from how profusely he’s been leaking, trails beseechingly along Kaeya’s forearm. “Please, please, do something—I need more—”

Kaeya lines himself up, lets the head of his cock catch on Diluc’s rim and slip away enough times that he sobs.

“I can take it,” Diluc begs. He turns his head over his shoulder, eyes glassy. His hair has come loose, spilling in waves of crimson around his ears. A trickle of slick gushes out of him and runs down his inner thigh. And Kaeya can’t wait any longer, either, so he grabs Diluc’s hips hard enough to bruise and surges forward and forward until Diluc is speared entirely on his cock.

“Oh,” sighs Kaeya from someplace buried deep. Diluc is stretched and silken, accommodating him easily, his hole as greedy as his entreating mouth. His back bows still lower as he clenches around Kaeya.

“Move,” Diluc demands, and he’s not asking quite so nicely anymore, but Kaeya isn’t indulging him just to be charitable.

Kaeya fucks into Diluc with the force of years of want behind him. He pulls out slow, letting his cock drag against the velvety heat of Diluc for as long as he can bear before burying himself again. Diluc’s face is pressed into the sheets, muffling the string of shaky cries spilling out of him, so Kaeya wraps his tail around his palm and tugs sharply.

Diluc jolts, his spine tensing. There’s a drying tear track down his cheek and a sizeable wet patch below his weeping cock, where he’s been rutting forward. “You want to be touched?” asks Kaeya, slowing his pace to a grind. “Being filled still isn’t enough?”

Diluc moans brokenly.

“It would befit the young master to use his words,” says Kaeya, like gathering words into sentences right now isn’t taking every last drop of his own concentration.

“Yes,” Diluc whimpers, clawing at the sheets. “Touch me, Kaeya, please.”

Kaeya has no sooner draped himself along the enticing curve of Diluc’s back and taken him in hand, stroking him roughly maybe twice, than Diluc’s second orgasm ripples through him. He tightens vicelike around Kaeya, trembling like a leaf as he paints his stomach in ropes of white.

With a stuttered cry, Kaeya barely manages to fuck him through it before his own pleasure reaches its crest. “I’m going to come,” he warns. “Diluc, if you don’t want—”

“I want,” Diluc says. His elbows give out, and he falls to the mattress with the air punched out of him, but his voice is resolute. “Come inside me.”

“Fuck,” chokes Kaeya, “you’re so—” and finds nothing else to say before he’s coming harder than he has in his entire life, probably, in a crackling wave of sensation that pulls at him for a small eternity until he’s spent.

By the time they collapse together, sweat-slick and sticky, Diluc has recovered enough to be disgusted. “You don’t intend on falling asleep like this,” he says, not bothering to make it sound like a question. His nose wrinkles as he trails a hand through the mess on his belly.

Kaeya takes Diluc’s wrist and licks at the come collected on his fingertips. “Would you rather I clean you up this way?”

Diluc tries to scowl at him, but the flutter of his eyelids gives him away. “Whatever,” he says finally, but he lets Kaeya sling an arm around his waist before he pulls the blanket up.




(“Master Diluc,” says Lisa, stopping short in the hall. “I’ve got the potion for—oh! You’re cured?”

“Yes,” says Diluc brusquely. “It appears there was another solution.”

Kaeya steps up beside Lisa and rests a cheerful hand on her shoulder. “Sometimes all it takes is working backwards.”

“Ah,” says Lisa.

“A tail-end fix, as it were,” continues Kaeya, thoroughly enjoying the furious stain rising to Diluc’s cheeks.

Lisa raises her eyebrows. “I understood perfectly fine the first time, Sir Kaeya. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that I’ve done all the pertinent reading.”

“Not a word,” bites out Diluc. “From either of you.”

They watch him stomp off.

“How exactly did this happen to him, again?” says Lisa, producing a quill and a slim scroll from absolutely no visible source. “I don’t suppose Jean would mind conducting some field research.”)