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the summer dusk has finally faded out, a burning sun replaced by twinkling stars. it had drizzled all morning, then stopped in the afternoon, but as the evening turns to nightfall, it has begun to fully, heavily rain.
you watch from the window as the nearby bamboo and the tall, thin trees are coated in wet dew. you step out into the back garden, and the first scent you inhale through your lungs is petrichor and rain.
an eldery couple with mondstadt origins happily rented this house to you on the edge of inazuma in a bamboo forest, formerly their vacation home that they were too weary-boned to make the climb this season. they gave it to you at a low price after kazuha helped them fix their wagon, and you had helped them harvest their crops. being the sweet couple they were, you got to to keep some of the spoils—radishes, cabbage, and carrots—that you promptly chopped up for dinner. you have to pay them another visit after all of this. they were good people who deserved more.
the rain begins to soak your skin, collecting heavily on your scarves and clothes. but you do not let this deter you as you wander through the grass and between the trees. you walk across stepping stones, neatly bridging the koi pond, where now the fish are eagerly swimming deeper to avoid the disturbed surface of rain meeting pool. it’s up the center hill, surrounded by smaller bamboo—nowhere near the same tallness as the bamboo forest you were surrounded by—that you finally find him.
“kazuha.” you exclaimed breathlessly. “you could catch a cold.”
he glances up at you, lashes watery and his body colored in reflections of blue, glowing flowers and orange, glowing lanterns. his expression turns from stoic to tender in a heartbeat.
“and yet you are out here as well.” he answers, voice steady and smooth through the sound of pouring rain.
“because you’re out here, and i had finished dinner.”
“ah. i’m sorry. i should’ve gone in sooner.” he frowns, lifting up his arm, which is covered with an unusual jacket you did not find him often wearing except for rain like this. you duck underneath, sitting down beside him on a stone bench, letting him shield you from the rain.
you laugh. “it’s okay. ”
his frown does not remove itself, in spite of the assurance, and his arm angles itself to better keep your face dry. for a moment, his eyes rove over your face—you aren’t sure what he’s looking for, or what he’s admiring. you were damp and your hair had begun to curl from the humid, static air.
“did you ever figure out the poem?” you ask him after he says and does nothing.
he hums with thought, turning his chin to look towards the sky. his ghosty-white lashes become easier to see in the background contrast of orange light, the wet sheens of his face reflecting the colors.
“clinging to your skin.” he recites with a gentle, whimsy tone. “rainwater that i envy.”
a beat passes, and he lowers his gaze, staring straight ahead towards the rented house for a moment. “i don’t have the third line, yet. it evades me, for the moment.”
“that’s odd. usually you can come up with them so well.” you say with a frown.
he blinks slowly, turning his head to look at you again. his gaze ghosts along your skin, his lips pressed into a thoughtful line.
he sighs. “i think it might not be because i don’t know what the line should be. i think it is because i am afraid to ever admit it aloud. i am afraid of what it means. of what it could change.”
“could just one line do that much?” you say gently. “poetry is powerful, but this sounds pretty unusual for you, kazuha.”
for a moment, he says nothing, merely blinks back at you with dewy, white lashes, silhouette outlined in blue and orange. you notice how damp his hair is, how the ribbon holding it back has begun to slightly droop.
eventually, kazuha smiles, gently and slowly. “shall we go inside? i’d like to eat that dinner you made me.”
he gets up to his feet, keeping his jacket-covered arm wrapped over your crown. with no argument, you get up beside him, and let him lead you back to the garden door.
the two of you finish dinner in quiet, companionable silence—a set of rice noodles, chopped vegetables, and some leftover pork from breakfast that morning with a bottle of juyeun chili sauce, blended with garlic and soy, that you still had with you from your time in liyue two months ago. it made for a delicious meal, but kazuha had said nothing, seemingly distant.
the silence wouldn’t normally bother you, but this time it does.
when you had finished dinner, he admitted he was exhausted and would like to retire early. you just smiled and told him you’d put everything away so he could just head to sleep.
you thought cleaning things up would ease your mind, but as your soap-drenched fingers finish scrubbing the last bowl, and cleaned the last set of chopsticks, you find it has only made your mind wander.
had you said something wrong? did you insult him? he didn’t seem to be, when you told him, could just one line do that much? oh… no, perhaps you did insult him. had he gotten better at hiding it?
you had remembered seeing him feel insulted before. his eyes always dilated and he would flinch in response, then give a polite smile that doesn’t meet his eyes. he hadn’t done that, this time. was he hurt deep down?
he had gone to bed early. perhaps he really was hurt and wanted time away from you.
you wiped your hands with a towel and frowned.
you care a lot about kazuha. you’d even say you loved him, but you would never tell a soul. but you didn’t have to—beidou would tease you about it every time she sees the two of you for another voyage. when it was just her and you, she’d grin and ask if you two had begun to date yet.
but you and kazuha go a long way, together. you hadn’t known each other forever, but you had met him on the crux, and ever since, the two of you had been good friends. you like to listen to his poems. he likes to listen to you talk of your home. you share with each other everything you’re passionate about, everything you could ever think or dream. when it was finally safe enough, the two of you had begun to wander together, traveling from place to place. but telling him how you felt… that was a feat you weren’t quite ready for.
you weren’t sure what he’d do, how he’d react. he never seemed interested. and yet his companionship is irreplaceable. you don’t know what you’d do without him. you can’t imagine him not in your life.
and that’s what makes this hurt all the more.
he’s hurt because of a comment you made. he had to be. and it’s disheartening, the guilt was now boiling and building up in your gut. how could you be so careless?
you make sure to blow all the lights out, that all the doors are locked. your vision jingles softly as you make your way down the hall.
you stop at the front of kazuha’s designated door. you inhale softly to yourself, and raise your fist up to the wood. but… then you stop. where do you even begin? what do you say?
you frown, hesitant, trying to gather your thoughts—and— ”hhaa…”
what?
“mmmhhh…”
you blink, staring at the wooden door. it takes a moment for you to realize that maybe it came from the other side of it.
“aaaahh… f-fu…”
it… it’s…
you feel all of the heat go straight to your gut. no, no, he probably wouldn’t be touching himself like that. but then… what else could he be doing?
you hear a hiss through gritted teeth and a tight groan. you think of when he accidentally walked into lightning during one of the thunderstorms on inazuma, his leg scorched bright and ugly red, and he made that very same noise as you hurriedly swept him up and tried to take him to the nearest statue of the seven.
perhaps he was hurt.
perhaps you should… check.
and if it was what you first thought, you can just walk away. pretend it never happened. ignore it.
you let out a deep, nervous breath. slowly, you open the door, silently peeking into the slit.
you go shock-still.
kazuha is bucking his hips into his hand, his— oh. his cock is wet and blush-pink, drooling precum over his fingers and down his knuckles as he rolls his hips into it like a sleeve. he chews his lower lip to fight back a tight moan, body shuddering deliciously as you visually notice his hand tighten its grip. he thrusts into it again and gasps, back arching into it and shivering, then letting his hips fall back onto the mattress. his kimono still clung to his back, heavily undone and likely going to get wrinkles, and his hair is messier from rolling back and forth with pleasure, but it still remains intact within its ponytail. the only thing missing are his pieces of armor, which you notice on the nearby dresser. the moonlight catches on the glint of his sword, right beside his bed.
he lets out a whimper, running his thumb over the tip of his cock, eyes screwed shut.
you should leave.
you saw what this is.
you should walk away.
and yet your feet won’t move. all you can feel is heat coiling down south, those familiar feelings of desire and love and passion filling your veins, leaving your head full of cotton fuzz and your legs full of lead.
he looks beautiful like this.
he rolls his hips again and shudders, throwing his head back. he thrusts again. and again. moans through his teeth, turns his head towards his shoulder, towards you, and it gives you the perfect view of the flush on his face, the ghostly-white lashes against his pale skin. his scarlet strand of hair has never looked so vivid until his body was pink and desperate for release.
“aaah…” his thighs tremble, and his eyes open.
to your misfortune, they immediately land on you.
he tenses, shifting immediately until the sheets give him some sense of decency, and you realize you’ve been caught.
“i… um…” you begin, nervous, tongue failing you for a few rapid, chest-stuttering heartbeats. “i’m… so sorry. i just… wanted…. to apologize for earlier, when i said the… the…”
kazuha, in spite of everything, gives a low, quiet, almost awkward laugh. you have never felt so embarrassed in your life. he looks the same, sheepishly avoiding your eyes.
“i’ll just…” you squeak on your words, gripping to the doorknob. “i’ll just… i’ll just… um…”
“you… you didn’t do anything wrong.” kazuha assures softly, and it embarrasses you further that he can be so nice even when you just caught him fucking into his fist. “i’m sorry if i made you think that way. i just… it’s not really your fault, it’s just… i… around you… um…”
that was a very confusing statement. where was he going with that? you blink, staring at his face uncertainly. but against your better judgement, your eyes drop to his lap, where you know his cock is still hard and leaking, begging for release. you remember the way he thrust into his hand, the way the precum dripped from his tip…
you let out a shuddering breath. it comes out more audible than you intend.
kazuha blinks and looks up at you, fully meeting your eyes in surprise.
“i… sorry.” you breathe, feeling your entire body begin to flush.
for a moment, he says nothing. but there is something about the way his eyes carefully stare at you, deep and perceiving, that roots you in place.
“are you…” kazuha begins, hesitant. “did… did you like what you saw?”
you nervously fiddle with the doorknob. part of you thinks maybe you should leave, that you should’ve left a long time ago. but there’s something about the question that feels optimistically hopeful on his part, that makes you wonder and wonder…
“yes.” you admit, voice airy and breathless.
kazuha shudders and exhales.
for a moment, nothing happens. but then, kazuha speaks, eyes more hazy as he looks at you. “...why did you like it?”
you hold tighter to the door, trying to find your resolve. you stare at his face, taking in the way he looks back with cautious hope, with curiosity and kindness and gentleness, and the answer is so simple that you can’t imagine saying a lie instead.
“because of you.” the truth escapes you in a soft confession.
“me?” his eyes light up.
it splits you open, meeting his bright-eyed gaze. you can do nothing but admit it all, now. “i care for you, kazuha. not just as a friend, but if that’s all you will have me as, i will accept it.”
and you hope he wouldn’t. that he would want more, like you do. that this wouldn’t be an awkward, terribly-timed confession, given just after seeing him fuck himself on his bed. what a terrible, awful memory this would be.
but his eyes turn so soft, and it makes you feel assurance.
“come here, please.” his voice is barely above a whisper.
tentatively, you release the door, letting it shut without your input behind you. you cross the wooden floor until you meet his bedside.
“i care for you, too.” his hands immediately reach up to touch you. his hand rests against your back, the other gently cupping your cheek, stroking the skin with his thumb. “i… i think a part of me always had, from the moment we met. like i’ve known you for far longer than this lifetime.”
you laugh airily, nervously. “i was scared of telling you how i felt.”
he smiles and he laughs softly, too. “so was i.”
he leans closer, and you rest your hands on his shoulders. it feels more natural and comfortable to sink on top of him, to rest in his lap, your knees on either side of his thighs.
“can i kiss you?” he asks, even though you both were already leaning towards each other already, drawn to each other like salt into the sea.
“yes,” you breathe out. “yes.”
you aren’t sure if he kisses you first or if you kiss him, you simply fall together. it begins gentle, sweet—a lifetime of longing coalescing into just one touch, so tender and nervous, fluttering like a butterfly between your faces. his hand rises up from your back to gently comb through your hair. you shiver as his fingers make contact with the back of your neck, and you lean in deeper, angling your head to the side.
he shudders and lets out a soft, whined noise against your mouth.
it quickly turns the kiss into something else.
it becomes open-mouthed and needy, the fervency building between the two of you, meeting each other in feverish, desperate touches. it is perfectly tasteless and yet perfectly kazuha, and therefore it could never be enough. you needed more. he mirrored the sentiment, eagerly holding onto the back of your traveling clothes, gasping into your lips.
you shift, pressing your hips tighter to his, twisting slightly to make yourself more comfortable, to find a better angle to kiss him. you want your hands in his hair, you want his saliva dripping down your chin, you want him now, and you want to taste all of him. the years of pining were building up and it’s all you can think about is him— but kazuha gasps and breaks away, lips swollen and moist, eyes blearily looking up at yours.
“i think…” he begins, mind evidently struggling to catch up with his body after the onslaught of kisses. for a moment, you merely breathe together, ragged and unsure.
“you think…?” you prompt, voice more husky than you intended. he shivers beneath you.
he licks his lips, brows furrowing as he tries to figure what to say. you watch this familiar expression, and watch as realization slowly comes to him, eyes blinking with new resolve up at you.
“i never… completed what i was doing, before you entered.” he explains, making direct eye contact, but his expression is apologetic and sheepish. “i think… we should continue this another time, because… i… i feel things, and i feel very intensely, and… you work me up. if we keep at it like this, i… i wouldn’t do anything you wouldn’t want to do, but i’d probably… accidentally… release like this.”
you exhale sharply. without thinking too much about it, you roll your hips against his. he keens, gasping and letting his head fall slightly forward, slumping into your chest as his fingers curl up in the fabric of your clothes. you can feel him through the sheets, as you shift yourself on his lap. his cock is not as hard as it was, but it was there, and suddenly, you feel insatiable, like you need all of him, right here, right now.
he was right. perhaps you should save this for another time.
but your body says something else, rolling against him again. he lets out another beautiful, pretty moan as his cock is frictioned against the bed sheet and the angle of your pelvis.
“kazuha…” you breathe near his ear, and he shudders against you. “do you… want me to help?”
he stiffens, letting out a hitched breath. he slowly pulls back, still holding onto your clothes, but he raises his chin to look at your face.
“i’m…” he licks his lips, shivering again. “i’m certainly not against it, but… i’m not sure if… would… you want to?”
how could you not?
you slide a hand against his scalp and grasp at some of his hair. you roll your hips against him again, this time trying to rub his cock right up against your own sex. it wrenches a wobbly moan from both of you, this time.
“yes.” you tell him, rutting against him again. he whimpers. “let me, kazuha.”
for a moment, the two of you kiss, deeply, needily. he ruts softly against you, and you roll your hips back. at some point, he rolls the two of you over until you’re on your back. the sheet slips away, and his kimono hangs off of him, barely keeping some semblance of modesty, even has his cock drips between his legs, flushed at the tip and absolutely perfect.
he breaks the kiss, only for his mouth to follow along your jaw. he tastes the salt off your skin, and you shudder at the feeling of his lips and the flick of his tongue. he is messy, mouth dropping all the way down to your throat. you gasp, fingers knotting up in his hair and the wrinkled, ruined kimono barely holding onto his back, and you shudder as he begins to suck your skin, catching your flesh between his teeth in soft, pinpricks of pain. he hums, pressing kisses over the bruises, as if apologetic.
“clinging to your skin,” he recites, brushing his lips across your throat. “rainwater that i envy…”
you blink back at him just as he pulls slightly back. he tangles his arms around you, leaning close, until your lips are barely touching.
“wishing to be yours.” he finishes, the last line dripping off his mouth. his own version of a love confession.
your touch turns tender as you run your fingers over his jaw. he stares back, hopeful, but quiet.
“be mine, then.” you whisper. “and let me be yours.”
he shudders.
you pull him into another kiss, dropping your hand down to touch at his leaking cock. he moans feverishly into your mouth, rocking into your fingers. he drops one of his hands down to grasp at your wrist, stumbling and uncoordinated, but finally getting there.
“how do you want to do this?” he breathes, stopping you. “i am still… sensitive. and… i… what can i give you?”
his hand moves away from your wrist, fingers ghosting over your crotch. you shiver as he presses his fingers against your clothed cunt. his own breath is hitched and wobbly—he can feel how damp your clothes have become.
“fuck me.” you whisper.
he lets out a noise somewhere between a whine and a groan, tight and whimpered through his teeth. it’s the only response he needs, his fingers stumbling and eagerly moving to take off your clothes. you move to help him, desperate for his touch. as the fabric finally gives way, kazuha is delicately trying to set them to the side, but you simply throw them to the floor.
“don’t worry about it.” you tell him, rolling your hips up to meet him. “come on.”
he eagerly sinks his mouth onto your chest, leaving kisses all the way down to your abdomen. he runs his fingers over your ribs, then gasps when you tug him up by his hair for another kiss. he eagerly presses into it, hands moving down to press open your thighs.
you tilt his head, saliva wet on your mouth, and you suck on his throat.
“f—fuck…” kazuha whimpers, subconsciously grinding his cock against the meat of your thigh. “please, please…”
you release him, a few bruises now springing up on the pale skin of his neck. he shivers when you kiss over them, a mirror to what he did to you not so long ago.
his thumb trails over your unclothed cunt, running the faintest circle over your clit. you let out an audible, shuddering breath.
he slips two fingers between your glistening folds, thumb running slow circles over the nub of you. you shudder and roll your hips back—the pleasure now is only a buzz, the beginning of something beautiful, but his fingers make quick work. his thumb is persistent, rolling over and over, back and forth, as his fingers curl up and rub slowly, carefully, as if in a tease.
but then they crook up into the sponge-like spot, and you groan, rolling into his fingers, desperate for his touch.
“kazuha, kazuha…” you gasp, grasping tightly onto the edges of his kimono. somewhere in your passion, you toss off his kimono, and you’re holding onto him by the skin of his back.
he kisses open-mouthed and messy against where your throat and jaw meet, and you can only toss your head and moan as his fingers rub eagerly into the sweetspot. your legs shake around him, hips eagerly meeting his hand with desperation as he fucks you with his fingers, interchanging between pressing into your walls and stroking your clit.
it builds. it builds quickly. your nerves are fried out and fraying everywhere, his hands eagerly pulling sweet, endless noises from you. he is silent, but his breathing is heavy and labored, cock twitching between his legs, excited just from hearing you, feeling you around his fingers, and something about that thought process sends you over the edge.
you’re shuddering, gasping, as if you just surfaced from water, digging your fingernails between his shoulderblades, and he shivers as you clench around his fingers.
you ride your high, rolling into him, and he moves with you, following your pace until you go still. his fingers leave you as your thighs tremble and your legs shake.
he presses soothing kisses down to your shoulder, along your collarbone, then trails up back to your mouth where he kisses you deep and slow.
you sigh against him, leaning your head back.
“sensitive?” he asks quietly, nervously shifting in a way to avoid touching too much past your lower abdomen.
“yeah.” you admit, nodding hazily.
“you were beautiful like that.” he whispers, nuzzling his nose against your throat.
an airy laugh leaves you, embarrassed but also pleased. “thanks.”
he strokes a thumb over your jaw and you reach feverishly towards his cock, jutting out between his legs. he shivers as your fingers run along the shaft.
“i’m better.” you tell him, sliding your thighs apart in invitation, running the pad of your thumb over his tip. it leaks against your skin. “will you fuck me now?”
kazuha chokes on a noise in his throat, cock twitching into your hand in a very evident yes. he shifts, intertwining one of his hands with yours, pressing kisses along each knuckle, before resting your connected hands onto the bed.
he gently shifts one of your legs to the side, pressing his tip against your vagina. the heat and fullness of it against you makes you unintentionally grind up against it, and he lets out a deep, audible breath.
“ready?” it comes out awkwardly from his mouth, but he looks at you so earnestly that it makes you feel softer, somehow.
you squeeze his fingers between your own and nod eagerly.
kazuha whimpers, his cock sliding in. “oh… oh… mmh…”
it goes smoothly, for the first quarter of him. you feel yourself stretch around him, watch as your slick dribbles down his cock. it takes a little bit of rocking, with kazuha gently pushing his hips forward and back, repeating it in a motion for a few beats before it finally slides all the way home. you gasp at the stretch, squeezing around him eagerly at the way he fills you, so perfectly.
“kazuha… fuck…” you grasp at his shoulders with your free hand, groaning, tossing your head back.
he squeezes your connected hands, face flushed as he leans over, weighing himself on top of you. it is a comfortable weight, with him still holding himself up enough where he doesn’t crush you, but enough where you are close, bodies flush together, his nose gently resting against yours. his eyes do not leave your own.
“beautiful.” he whispers, adoringly, thrusting into you, once, almost slow, but not quite. you moan. he preens, tilting his head, eyes intensely focused on you. “make that noise for me again. please.”
he fucks into you. thrusts again. you whimper and whine. he thrusts another, cock filling you up all the way, and you clench tight around him, shuddering and gasping.
“perfect.” he breathes, peppering your jaw in kisses.
“kazuha, please, fuck…” you groan, tilting your face towards him until you both are kissing, fervent and wet, saliva dripping between your lips.
with a squeeze between your connected hands, he begins to fuck into you more sincerely, thrusting thoroughly and fully. he groans into your mouth, then breaks apart, rolling his head onto your shoulder as he fucks into you. you moan, rolling your hips back, trying to take more of him even though there was no more left to take.
“i won’t last long.” he warns, gasping between his teeth, rocking against you.
you nod fervently, moving to bite at his throat, leaving kisses and love marks across his skin. he shudders and gasps, cock twitching inside you. you sink your teeth and tug his hair, moaning as he rolls his hips into you for one last hard, final thrust, before he pulls out.
his free hand stumbles towards his cock, grasping it tight in his fist and fucking himself with his hand again. you watch, transfixed, cunt pulsing with emptiness.
“aaah… f-fuck…” kazuha whimpers, gasps, cum spurting out from his cock and over his hand, messy and white. you watch as some of it dribbles down onto your stomach, tailing off his knuckles.
beautiful, you think, breathing heavily.
for a moment, he trembles and says nothing, struggling to breathe normal again, slumped into your side. you reach out and soothe your fingers through his hair, tilting yourself until you could rest a kiss against his forehead. he sighs into your skin.
“is it too soon?” he whispers against your neck.
“too soon?” you breathe back. “for what?”
he lets out a deep breath, it fans warm air against your throat. “for this. for love. for… any of it.”
“we’ve known each other for so long, haven’t we?” you ask back, brushing your fingers through his bangs to meet his scarlet eyes.
“yes. so many adventures…” kazuha considers.
“our hearts are the same.” you tell him, pressing another kiss to his forehead. “it’s the experience that is new.”