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Venti isn’t particularly fond of Liyue—the people are too uptight, the drinks too expensive, and the weather far too humid—but he finds himself lazing around Wangshu Inn more often than he’d care to admit. As with most things, he does have a reason, but anyone would question why he continues to journey to a place he claims to dislike. The answer is rather simple--he just can’t stand to see Xiao in pain.
“You really need to cover these arms.”
Carefully, Venti inspects the particularly nasty slash that runs across Xiao’s upper arm—likely the work of a pissed off mitachurl with an axe. By now, he’s lost count of how many times he’s travelled to Wangshu Inn with the sole intention of patching up Xiao’s wounds, but the way he can now identify which creature is at fault for each of Xiao’s injuries speaks for itself. He dips his hands into the warm water of the bath he had prepared beforehand and scoops up a handful of it, gently pouring it over the dried blood that stains Xiao’s skin. He uses a soft cloth to carefully begin scrubbing the crimson patches away, and while Xiao doesn’t flinch, the way he tenses up tells Venti all he needs to know. “Does it hurt?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” Venti offers, a weak but genuine attempt at consolation. He eyes up the jar of violetgrass cream he’d prepared before leaving Mondstadt, tossing over in his head if he should apply it now or after Xiao is finished bathing. While common sense tells him to wait since it’ll likely get washed off anyway—which would be quite wasteful—the pained expression that washes over Xiao has him throwing that rationality out the window. Without a second thought, he dips his fingers into the salve and gently spreads a thin layer of it over the gash, relieved when Xiao sighs and his expression softens as the healing cream immediately alleviates the pain.
As Venti works to clean him up, Xiao is silent. It’s normal for him to be on the quiet side, but Venti can normally get him to open up at least a little. Xiao will chuckle reluctantly at his jokes and teasing, respond to his casual conversation like old friends do—but this is different, and Venti knows from experience that this closed-off attitude is indication of a particularly draining day.
Sometimes, he feels helpless.
“Can I wash your hair, now?” Even Xiao’s response is silent, a simple nod before he turns himself around in the tub so his back is to Venti and he has better access to his hair.
Scratches and bruises paint the canvas of Xiao’s back. It’s far worse than the few minor scrapes he usually has; the sight of it makes Venti feel nauseous. Xiao is the opposite of careless and can crawl out of most battles unscathed—this isn’t like him. “You have something on your mind,” Venti tells him. He won’t ask, because he already knows the only thing that can weaken Xiao enough to make him vulnerable to enemy attacks is himself. And if he asks, Xiao will only deny it. “What’s distracting you?”
Xiao doesn’t answer, and Venti isn’t surprised. There’s no use pressing him further on the matter, especially when he’s like this.
Venti grabs a nearby glass and dips it into the warm water, filling it up to the brim. One hand shields the water from dripping down Xiao’s face while the other gently tilts the glass until a waterfall begins to pour over the edge, dampening his dark hair. “That feels good,” Xiao comments half-heartedly, but it makes Venti’s eyes light up because at least it’s something.
Venti had hoped it would feel good. He’d do anything just to give Xiao some peace, even if only for a night. He’d been busy in Mondstadt and hadn’t been able to make it to Wangshu Inn for quite a few days. Soon, he’d have to leave again. Leaving him was always so hard—worse was not knowing when he’d be able to come back, and even worse still was knowing that when Venti wasn’t there, Xiao had no one to care for him. He tries not to feel guilty, but sometimes he can’t sleep at night, his thoughts plagued with images of Xiao bruised and bleeding and alone.
Another cup full of water washes over Xiao’s hair, then dribbles down the smooth skin of his back. Venti dips his fingers into a jar of soap—scented like Qingxin, Xiao’s favorite—and begins lathering it in his hair. Dainty fingers massage tenderly at his scalp. He’s oddly careful for such a simple task, making sure none of the soap gets too close to Xiao’s eyes, making sure his fingers don’t accidentally pull on any of the strands. Seeing Xiao in such a vulnerable position like this is an honor, a symbol of the trust he puts in Venti, something he hasn’t given to anyone else. Venti is special to him and well aware of it, would never do anything that might fray the thin thread of Xiao’s trust.
Venti loves him, and he hopes Xiao loves him right back—but they’re tied together by something much more tangible than simple love. They've been bound to one another from the very day Xiao heard Venti’s song, even if he didn’t know it yet. He’d saved him once, he’d save him again, he’d still be saving him centuries into the future; some might think it a curse, but to Venti, it’s nothing short of a blessing.
“Your hair looks good like this, Xiao,” Venti teases, using the soap and bubbles to make his hair stand up tall. “ Heh.” Xiao whips around to give him a scowl, but it’s hard to take him seriously when his hair is pointed up like a cone and covered in bubbles. “What’s that look for?”
Xiao reaches his hands into the water, scoops some into his hands, and splashes it directly at Venti’s face. Not fair. None of it got in his eyes, thankfully, but now he has water uncomfortably soaking his clothes and wetting his cheeks. “What’s that look for?” Xiao shoots right back, a hesitant smile just barely lifting up the corners of his lips. That’s what Venti wants to see.
He goes back to the task at hand—Xiao’s hair—and begins rinsing out the soap. It takes quite a few pours of the glass to get it all out, but once he’s done, Xiao’s hair feels soft and silky when he runs his fingers through it. It won’t stay like this long; come tomorrow, it will once again be dirtied by the sweat and grime of battle. That's perfect for Venti, as it gives him an excuse to come back.
“Why are you doing this?” Xiao asks suddenly, catching Venti off guard. He stops absentmindedly playing with the yaksha’s hair, asks himself the question in his head, wondering if he really knows himself. Xiao stares up at him blankly, eyes pleading for an answer that Venti isn’t even sure he has. “You don’t get anything out of this. So why? What does a god like you want with me?”
What does he want? How far is he going to take this? It’s in this moment that Venti realizes an indisputable fact about his relationship with Xiao—that no matter what, he’s in too deep now to ever give up on helping Xiao find his freedom, even if that means being bound to him until the day he perishes. Somehow, he’s content with that fate. Xiao is cursed by eternally warring with himself in a desperate bid for freedom. That’s what has Venti so damn hypnotized. That’s what keeps him crawling back
“I like seeing you smile,” he tells him simply; and it’s the truth.
-
By the time Xiao is clean and all of his wounds have been tended to, Venti doesn’t know how much time has passed. It’s dark outside, but that’s the only indication of the time that he has.
It seems like there’s nothing left for Venti to do here. He’s done what he could, tried his damndest to quell Xiao’s loneliness, and now all that’s left is the hardest part—the goodbye. Because as much as Venti would like to stay here with Xiao forever, he knows he can’t, and he knows that even if he could, Xiao wouldn’t let him. At least not yet. So he stands from his spot on Xiao’s bed reluctantly, wavering there and shifting his weight from foot to foot as he thinks of what to say.
“I guess I should head back—”
“Venti, I have to tell you—”
Their voices mingle with each other and overlap, obscuring the words. “You go first,” Venti tells him.
Xiao sighs, hesitates long enough for Venti to worry. Something about it fills him with dread, for some reason jumping to the worst case scenario. For some reason, his head, no, the whole room is spinning, and he has to sit down on the bed next to Xiao to keep from falling over. “You asked me what was distracting me.”
“I did.”
“The truth is,” Xiao starts to say, pausing again, chewing anxiously on his lower lip. Venti’s heart is racing .
“The truth is, I was distracted because I missed you.”
Suddenly, the room stops spinning. Suddenly, his heart stops racing. All he can do is stare at Xiao in utter disbelief, and when he does try to speak, all that comes out is an incoherent string of noises. “I apologize for allowing myself to become attached. Because I don’t want you to feel obligated to come see me, I think it would be best if we end this here and—”
Xiao’s lips taste of sweetflowers and freedom, but Venti doesn’t remember moving to press their mouths together. One second he was sitting in silent fear of what words were going to come out of Xiao’s mouth, the next second he was shutting up that mouth with his own. He doesn’t know how it happened, nor does he care to ponder it—all he needs is for the feeling of Xiao’s hand on the back of his head pulling him in closer to never leave.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Venti says when they pull apart, only for Xiao to return the favor of shutting him up with his own chaste kiss. It’s more of a peck than anything, short and oh so sweet , but the fact that Xiao had been the one to initiate it makes it even more significant than the last. Venti brings his fingers up to his lips, touches them gently, sure that this must be a dream.
“Hey, Venti?” Xiao says after a few moments of shared silence. Venti turns to face him, still in disbelief, still touching his lips with the tips of his fingers. Xiao looks up at him—eyes brimming with tears and cheeks flushed pink. He’s never seen him cry before. The sight of tears in Xiao’s eyes hits Venti in the chest with a sharp sort of visceral pain that he didn’t even know existed. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”
“Xiao.”
There’s the small sound of him sniffling. “Hm?”
“Would I come all the way from Mondstadt just to make sure you’re safe if I thought you were a bad person?” After some hesitation, Xiao shakes his head no. “Would I help you in the bath and dress your wounds if I thought you were a bad person?” Again, he shakes his head. “And would I kiss you if I thought you were a bad person?”
Big hands clasp onto Venti’s shoulders, pulling him in close to Xiao’s chest and holding him there. Venti finds himself smiling against Xiao’s bare skin, knowing that the famed vigilant yaksha is already one step closer to salvation. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, though Venti can’t quite figure out what he’s apologizing for. “Please don’t leave,” he hears a quiet voice say, close to his ear and breath burning hot.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I want to kiss you again.”
“You’re free to do as you please.”
Xiao goes to kiss him again, this time placing his hands on either side of Venti’s face and holding him in place—not that Venti is going anywhere—and eagerly jumping at the chance to press their lips together once more. It almost hurts ; Xiao’s fingertips digging into his jaw, Xiao’s teeth scraping against his bottom lip.
He kisses him like he’s been waiting to do this for centuries—but then again, perhaps he has.
The angle is all awkward and Venti craves being even closer to Xiao, so he swings his legs around the yaksha’s waist and straddles his lap—not once breaking the kiss. This is much better, he decides. The hands that were grasping at his jaw move to his back, clawing clumsily at his overshirt; Venti can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since Xiao has done something like this, his movements so graceless and clunky. Yet there’s something so innocent in the shaky gasps he periodically utters against Venti’s lips, the way he can’t seem to get enough.
Venti is certain that nothing could possibly be important enough to convince him to tear himself away from Xiao—until, at least, he notices the press of something hard against his ass where he straddles Xiao’s crotch. He twists his head to the side, away from Xiao’s greedy mouth, and moans his name. He hadn’t intended to moan, but it’s a little too late to take it back—and even through the layers of clothing between them, he swears he feels Xiao twitch under him. “ Xiao,” he says again when Xiao still doesn’t stop kissing him.
“I….may have gotten a bit ahead of myself,” Xiao pants, still scrambling to catch his breath.
“Xiao, you’re….” It seems he’s been so caught up in savoring Venti’s taste that he hasn’t even noticed the evidence of his growing arousal. “You like me that much?” Venti teases, grinding down, watching Xiao’s eyes widen when he suddenly realizes.
“F-fuck,” he mumbles, too ashamed to meet Venti’s gaze. “Sorry, I-I didn’t mean….we should stop, this is—”
“ Hey,” Venti hums close to Xiao’s ear. “ It’s okay.” Xiao doesn’t seem convinced. Before Venti can convince himself of what an absolutely atrocious idea this is, he’s sliding off of Xiao’s lap, sinking to the floor, landing between his legs and looking up at him with eyes that lack any semblance of rationality. “Do you want me to….?”
Xiao trembles at the sight of Venti on his knees and in between his legs. “You don’t have to do that,” he manages to force out in between shaky breaths.
“What if I want to?” A hand slowly reaches up to gently stroke Xiao’s thigh, Venti’s eyes watching closely for a reaction from the man seated above him—will he recoil from the touch or embrace it? Will Venti destroy this relationship just as Xiao is finally letting him in, or will he drown himself even further in his desperation to make Xiao feel good? Xiao slams his eyes shut, inhales sharply at even the slightest touch—and Venti knows it’s going to be the latter. “ Let me please you,” he slurs; the high he feels from the prospect of Xiao being inside of him makes even Diluc’s most potent wine look like child’s play.
“Are you sure?” Xiao asks. Venti nods quicker and more eagerly than he ever has in his life, certain that there must be some kind of poison in Xiao’s lips because holy fuck, he has never felt the need to satisfy someone so strongly in his life. “Okay, yeah,” Xiao finally says after a little more hesitation. “But please don’t feel like you have to do this because of what I said earlier about missing—”
Venti has to resist the urge to scream. “That’s not why I— ugh, dammit Xiao, can’t you just get that I like you?”
He watches Xiao’s throat constrict when he swallows. “I….like you too.”
It’s embarrassing, but Venti would be lying if he said he didn’t feel butterflies in his stomach upon hearing Xiao admit those words out loud. “I wanna see you more,” Venti says, reaching up to tug at the yaksha’s trousers until he can slide them down enough to free Xiao’s hard cock. He’s too fucking perfect. “Even when you don’t need my help. I want to come see you just to see you.” One hand grips Xiao’s left thigh, the other hand slowly strokes his cock once; testing the waters, gauging Xiao’s reaction.
“I would like that.” He says it through clenched teeth, voice quivering when Venti swipes his thumb over the slit.
Venti could easily take Xiao into his mouth and be tasting his come in minutes, but a cruel little part of him wants to drag this out longer, wants to hear Xiao voice his desires. So he takes his hand off his cock and redirects his attention to pressing light kisses up and down the sensitive skin of Xiao’s thighs. Here and there he nips lightly at the skin, not enough to hurt but enough to catch Xiao off guard each time and earn a small yelp from between those lips. Each fragile noise he makes is a blessing that goes straight to Venti’s gut, swirling with heat now as he suddenly notices his tights are feeling a whole lot tighter.
When Venti looks up again, Xiao has one fist clinging onto a handful of the silky sheets like his life depends on it and his other hand is clamped over his mouth, successfully muffling most of the gorgeous sounds that he fails to stop himself from producing. That won’t do, Venti thinks, abruptly switching his focus from Xiao’s thighs to his cock. He drags his tongue from the base to the tip, deliberate and slow, coaxing a whine out of him. “There you go, Xiao. I wanna hear you.”
Still, Xiao doesn’t remove the hand that’s covering his mouth. Instead, he becomes even more flustered, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. And while Venti has to admit that there’s something just so damn cute about how flustered the yaksha is—blush reaching from his cheeks down to his chest—he would much rather hear his sweet little moans.
“Don’t be shy.” Venti finally wraps his lips around him, and although it’s only the tip, it’s enough to make Xiao’s thighs tremble. “I’m not going to make you come until you let me hear you.”
“B-but I—“
“Pretty please?” Venti pulls out the one weapon he knows makes Xiao weak, looking up at him with big, glassy eyes and a small pout. Unsurprisingly, it works wonders, and Xiao is almost instantaneously giving in and removing the hand from over his mouth.
Venti gives him one more smirk before swallowing him down whole. He can feel all of Xiao, can even feel him at the back of his throat, stretching his lips until his jaw aches. And the noise that Xiao makes when Venti’s throat constricts around the intrusion— fuck , it’s beautiful, a groaned plea for more . Hearing himself makes Xiao slap a hand back over his mouth, but one look at Venti—lips pink and pretty, working so hard to take all of him in—and he’s dropping his hand back down to grasp at the sheets.
Venti can’t stay like that for long—needs to breathe just like everyone else—but something is screaming at him to push himself, and the fingers that snake through his hair only serve to encourage him even more. So he swallows hard around Xiao’s cock until he’s choking and sputtering on it, until the gentle touch of those fingers quickly becomes harsh when Xiao has to grip a fistful of his hair to keep himself from screaming out. “ Venti…. f-fuck, don’t— ah!” When Venti pulls away, gasping for air, there’s a mix of drool and precome dripping from his lips. “ Don’t hurt yourself, ” Xiao manages to say.
“Does it feel good?” Venti wonders, even though the answer is already clear.
“Really good.” It comes out within a gasp, Venti already diving back down.
Xiao tastes so damn good on his tongue, heavy and hot and already leaking. He’s sensitive; really sensitive, likely already close to reaching the edge, so Venti slows down, moving in rhythmic strokes along his shaft and kitten-licks that tease at his head. “How long has it been since someone has done this?” Venti wonders, sliding off of his cock just long enough to get those words out.
“I….can’t remember,” is all Xiao says, gritting his teeth. Then, quietly and embarrassed, he adds, “a long time.”
Venti isn’t naive—he knew this couldn’t be the first time Xiao had done this, but the thought of someone else touching Xiao like this still makes something akin to jealousy bloom within him. Xiao is his. His to adore, his to guide, his to please. This new possessive streak makes him wrap a hand around Xiao’s cock and pump faster, faster, reckless and rough until Xiao is whining and crying out at each touch—then, he stops. “ Venti?!” Xiao says, halfway between a question and a plea.
“I want to be the only one to see you like this,” Venti starts. His fingers are slick with Xiao’s precome and his own spit— perfect. Easily sliding out of his shorts, he reaches his hand back to tease his hole with one finger, sighing when he pushes past the tight muscles. Spit and precome doesn’t make the best lube, but it’ll have to work. “And I want you to be the only to see me like this. ” Another finger, and he can hardly even think.
“Venti, you look—” A whine cuts him off when Venti goes right back to swallowing around his cock.
“I look….?” Venti gurgles, urging him to continue even with a cock down his throat and now three fingers spreading his ass.
“You look… .ngh, ah! You look…. so fucking pretty.”
Venti rewards him by picking up his pace, fucking himself back on his own fingers. It’s messy and clumsy, the way his hips jerk at each pump of his fingers, but he doesn’t even bother taking the time to focus on his prostate. No, every drop of his attention is focused on Xiao, on making him feel so good that the only thing on his mind is shooting down Venti’s throat. “If you think I look pretty, you should see yourself,” Venti says before lapping up a bead of precome, sticking his tongue out to make sure Xiao sees before eagerly swallowing. “Are you even aware of how beautiful you are, Xiao?”
That little bit of praise must trigger something in Xiao because he throws his head back and moans, really moans, doesn’t try to hide it one bit. Or maybe, as he’s pushed closer and closer to his release, it’s becoming harder for him to hold back. Good.
“Look at how much you’re leaking for me.” He drags the tip of his finger along Xiao’s cock, sticks it past his lips and obscenely laps up the mess. Another loud whine from Xiao. “You’re doing so good.”
“All I’m doing is sitting here,” Xiao protests, still unable to accept Venti’s praise even in this position.
“And still, look at what a mess you’ve made of me,” Venti makes his point clear by putting Xiao back in his mouth and slamming his fingers into himself all at once. It’s enough to send him spiraling into his own climax. It wasn’t his intention to come before Xiao, but he can’t worry about that now, not when he’s releasing all over the floor without even touching his cock. He’s whining around the dick in his mouth and clenching around the fingers in his ass, the last of his come spilling out when Xiao accidentally bucks his hips hard and ends up forcing himself further down Venti’s throat.
He coughs once before Xiao pulls himself out, leaving Venti there on his knees with a puddle of come in front of him and a fucked-out look on his face. “Are you okay?” Xiao asks immediately, reaching out to brush his fingers through Venti’s hair and reassuringly stroke his cheek. Venti can feel tears stinging the corners of his eyes because all of it was just so much .
Catching his breath, he nods. Xiao is still hard—it has to be getting painful, now—but still, he ignores it, instead meeting Venti on the floor to wrap him in his arms and kiss him on the forehead. “ Lay down,” Venti tells him, voice weak but determined. He still has work to do , and he’s not about to give up now. Confused but obedient, Xiao lies down on the floor, watching Venti with questioning eyes.
Venti rides him right there on the floor, hands braced against Xiao’s chest and hips spasming. He has no control like this, not when he’s so overstimulated he can hardly breathe, but still, he endures. “ Touch me,” Venti says, amazed at how Xiao can still be so shy with Venti already impaled on his cock.
He starts cautiously, running his fingers lightly over Venti’s chest, stopping when he reaches his nipples. Still unsure, he brushes against the left one with his fingertip. Even that tears a groan out of Venti—so, naturally, Xiao does it again. “ Fuck, I feel so full, Xiao,” Venti praises. “What I said earlier, I meant it. I’m yours and you’re mine—got it?” Xiao nods, but that’s not what Venti wants. He leans down far enough to kiss Xiao’s neck, then whispers against his ear, “I want to hear it from you.”
“ I’m yours.”
“And?” Venti prompts.
Xiao hesitates. Venti knew he wouldn’t have a problem saying the first part, but the second half is something different entirely. He knows Xiao well enough to know what he’s thinking—that he’s not good enough to claim Venti as his. That he could never be enough for Barbartos. And while Venti could sit here and reassure him a thousand times over that that’s not true, it’ll never be cemented in his mind until he can admit it out loud.
“ And?” he says again, halting to move altogether. He’s completely still, only halfway on Xiao’s cock—enough to make him whine out for more, but he won’t give it to him yet. “Say it, Xiao. It’s already true, but I want to hear you say it.”
Xiao’s hands fly to Venti’s waist, digging into the soft skin there and pulling him down fully onto his cock. “You’re mine,” he says, finally giving Venti what he’s always wanted. “ You’re mine.”
Only seconds later, Xiao is reaching his high—gorgeous moans fall from his lips and Venti savors the sound, letting the feeling of Xiao coming inside of him wash away everything else. With Xiao’s softening cock still deep in his ass, he falls forward, letting himself collapse into Xiao’s warm chest and be wrapped up in his arms.
They stay just like that for a long while, enveloped in each other’s warmth. Venti can hear Xiao’s heartbeat—steady, slowing down as time passes and he becomes more relaxed. When the lust that had been clouding their sense of rationality fades, they realize just how uncomfortable laying on the floor is and are forced to separate.
“Was….everything okay?” Venti asks when they pull apart and climb into bed. There’s still a mess on the floor and leaking from Venti’s ass, but his legs still feel like jelly so he opts to clean up later. “I can get a little carried away.”
Venti doesn’t bother putting any of his clothes back on, knowing that even if he puts his shorts on they'll just get ruined anyway. Xiao, however, quickly covers himself, tugging his pants back on before snuggling up close enough to Venti to smell cecilias. “I thought it was perfect,” he says, gently placing the tips of his fingers on Venti’s throat. “Are you sure you’re okay? I hope it didn’t hurt.”
“It didn’t hurt,” Venti says. “But if it did, I wouldn’t mind.”
That makes Xiao blush, which, in turn, makes Venti giggle. “I just can’t believe we didn’t do this sooner.”
“We would have done this sooner if I had known you wanted it, dumbass,” Venti retorts.
It’s then that something lonely washes over Xiao’s face, and it’s then that Venti really wishes he could just shut the fuck up sometimes. “I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time that I feel something special for you,” Xiao says, his voice tinged with pain. “But….I guess I felt that I didn’t deserve you. That I was selfish for thinking that you could be mine.”
“I’ve been yours since the day we met, Xiao.”
Xiao blinks, unsure. “And….you like it like that?”
“I could ask for nothing more.”
“Okay then,” Xiao sighs, a small smile curling up on his lips. “l believe you.”