Aether is a hair’s breadth away from the brink of insanity.

Tenebrous, inky water sits nestled within eroded bowls of obsidian. Calcite deposits have crystallised into opalescent stalactites that now hang from the ceiling like glossy, forbidden fruit - beautiful but deadly. They weren’t there higher up in the cave, Aether notes. The specular reflection of light is sparse at this depth of the spectral cavern, and Aether takes each step with caution, testing the ground with the balls of his feet first. He learnt the hard way to avoid shakeholes and swallets; he feels a dull throb saturate his tailbone from the fall that yanked him down here in the first place.

Unease sinks its vicious talons into him, latching onto the plane of his sternum, making every breath taxing. Frigid gusts of wind pinch goosebumps over his shivering body, and Aether tries not to fester a grudge against the knights no doubt lazing in Mondstat right now, having devolved their expedition to him.

Aether can barely see a thing. The sangria mist curls around his feet, ominously beguiling. Deep purple plumes twirl around him, as if they were dance partners of ancient myth, and he fans a hand through them in dispersal, but they remain unrelenting.

“For fuck’s sake,” He mutters.

In spite of his iron warrior’s mentality, Aether’s heart strains against his chest, thudding like a wild animal fighting to be released. His trembling yet grimly firm fingers dig into the rigid steel plating of his sword for purchase til his knuckles whiten. He’s clinging to the ornately bejewelled hilt- as if the inanimate object alone can save him. Or perhaps because he needs a semblance of familiarity and comfort in this harrowing situation.

What started as a solo cave mission spiralled into this hot mess- and Aether has no means of escape. Stalwart limestone and granite stand between him and the daylight hole, his only way out.

Water drips into the obsolete alcove’s pools, sliding down the calloused planes of weathered sediment, each droplet taunting him as it coalesces into the dark cavity below. The splashes echo, uncharacteristically loud for such a desolate, obscure cave.

You know, there’s nothing quite like the feeling of being lost.

Nothing as virulent, nothing as heart-poundingly, skull-throbbingly distressing as the realisation that you’re so impossibly far off from civilisation that you could very well be a pathetic pile of bones by the time another human finds you. That is, if they ever find you to begin with.

Aether smiles drily. What a stupid way to die.

He can’t stop the barrage of regrets now; he should've gotten Paimon to come with him, shouldn't have acted like such a damn hotshot, should've admitted to Acting Grand Master Jean that maybe, just maybe he wasn't cut out to handle a fucking group expedition on his own, should've-

He freezes mid-thought.

It's a lapse in judgement on their part, in retrospect, whoever they are. Aether’s a habituated fighter. Just the faintest crinkle of fabric, and he’s already springing into action, lithe form and nimble limbs swift and deft, like a well-oiled machine.

There’s a thud and a surprised gasp as the intruder hits the ground in one fell swoop.

Aether exhales, adrenaline surging through his body in waves, weaving itself between tendons and suffusing sinew.

He expected an abyss mage, a Fatui skirmisher at worst - though why they'd be gallivanting down here in the depths of naught, Aether has no clue - but in the split-second he's knocked the intruder back, he gleans a rather plain, mussed outfit that bears no conspicuous affiliation. It’s really nothing special. No accomplices in the vicinity, either, he concludes with a cursory glance.

The sparse light reflecting off the dim water on the banks dances across the stranger's sprawled form, motley blue hues-- and for a second, Aether soaks it all in. The leather belt with its gleaming buckle, the loose poet shirt with its full bishop sleeves and front frills and plunging neckline, and the full-coverage mask that leaves everything but periwinkle eyes to his imagination.

Now, Aether is well-versed in Teyvat etiquette. It’s customary to be polite with any stranger who isn’t hostile. He’s cognisant of the fact that he has his sword unsheathed and all, but he’ll attempt to be civil, just in case this man knows his way around the cavern. It can’t hurt to try.

He barely opens his mouth before he’s leaping backwards, the man’s steel sword slicing through the air in a graceful arc, just inches away from where Aether’s chest had been milliseconds ago. Okay, maybe it can hurt to try.

"Didn't think I'd make it easy for you, did you?" Comes poet shirt’s sly drawl.

Despite himself, Aether grins, not like he isn't in need of a little stimulation himself. "Really? Because it's been pretty easy so far," He bites back between a dodge-deflect-counter sequence, body falling into the easy rhythm of instinct.

The stranger evades him effortlessly; agile like a panther, fleet-footed and sharp, with acerbic wit to boot. His lean physique and stature reflect a fighter’s experience as he matches Aether's manoeuvres with equal ferocity and gall. Aether has half a mind to ask this cave-dweller if he wants to assume the position of Honorary Knight in Aether’s place, while they go at it about as gracefully as two people could possibly parry in the dark.

"What're you doing all the way down here, pretty face?" The man purrs, and Aether can gauge a hint of... amusement in his tone. Is he toying with him? Aether narrows his eyes as he charges, holding his sword in mimicry of Jean's leading attack strike.

"I came here on orders of the Knights of Favonius," He says, clipped, dodging an artful thrust, seizing an opening to knock the man back.

"The Knights of Favonius, you say…" The stranger trails off, thoughtful. He seems to select his next words carefully, sharpening his tone to a near-deadly timbre. "And yet… you don't seem like much of a formidable opponent."

Motherfucker.

The itinerant's barely-visible periwinkle eyes have a devious twinkle to them, one reminiscent of something Aether can't quite place. Aether nearly falters at this, frustrated confusion wheedling its way under his skin, ticking him off in every way possible. The man has a thin scar on his right, a pale sickle, like waning moon, that aether can barely make out in the dark.

He focuses himself on his deluge of real-time skill analysis- this masked man's swordsmanship isn’t conventionally proficient or adroit in technique like Jean's is, so he’s definitely not a predictable opponent to that end. Nor is his style extrinsically dextrous like Kaeya's. His swordsmanship is an amalgamation of sundry others, it seems- like a patchwork quilt of different complementary styles, meticulously weaved into one.

Perhaps it's because he's only ever sparred against knights, who fundamentally have a trademark way of wielding their weaponry. Fighting against this guileful outlander with his underhanded tricks-- Aether thinks, after narrowly avoiding a sliced forearm-- is not exactly something the civil decorum of the Knights' regime has adequately trained him for.

Aether nearly falls when he's tripped by the bastard, and the successive sword strike nearly lands him on his ass.

Scratch that, this son of a bitch is downright playing dirty.

He adjusts quickly. He’ll have to find ways to vary his combat training from now on, that's for sure.

"Getting a little rusty, there, are we?"

Aether's decided he's had just about enough of the cocky miscreant, so he bites his lip, formulating a sly stratagem of his own. Two can play at this game.

He locks down on the offensive, concentrating his moves closer to the gut, free arm up and out to block his head, luring his opponent to fight in close quarters.

His attempt to draw the outlaw’s attention toward the immediate ploy seems to work, when the man takes the bait and goes for his exposed midriff. Aether sidesteps naturally, retaliating smoothly.

‘Swordfights are generally at length’, was the first precept Kaeya ever told him, back when he was just a fledgling alongside the primary corps. ‘You have to get them out of their comfort zone, comrade, because that's where you'll have the upper hand.’.

Moving toward the rear, Aether rolls, kicking the rogue’s knees, toppling him, and the man breaks his fall easily, aiming for another close strike within seconds.

Aether needs to get frilled shirt boy in one specific spot. He’ll distract him with the immediate moves, but his real goal is to subtly manipulate their positions. Everything will fall into place from there. Hopefully.

The outlander seems to have other plans, though.

“Motherfucker,” Aether shoots the masked piece of shit a withering look when he gets pinched, like they’re fucking children.

Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to kick this bastard’s ass so hard he’ll be seeing Barbatos for weeks.

In the spirit of playing fair, he elbows the miscreant, gets nearly poked in the eye in return, and knocks the quasi-pirate with the hilt of his sword. Just as he anticipated, there’s an opening. He aims a sequential lunge at the stranger’s arm from behind, and the latter is forced to turn and jump backwards to avoid it, robbed of the time to check his footing.

Aether steps back, and watches as the outlander's footing on the sedimentary rock falters.

Forgive Aether for playing so dirty, but the look of gradually-setting shock in his once-smug opponent's eyes; his belated realisation as he flails backward into the mocking cesspool of blackened water, makes Aether's lips quirk up ever so slightly. Far from knightly, but hey, Aether's always been an outlander at heart himself.

Aether eventually gets over the little manifestation of his hubris and helps the spluttering mystery man out of the cold water.

His grip is firm, almost taunting, as the familiar words roll off his own tongue this time.

"Getting a little rusty there, are we?"

Aether can't see the rogue's mouth covered by the thin black fabric, but the light in his eyes tells him he certainly isn't frowning.

"You seem to be a man of many surprises, Mondstat's Great," He says, with no malice.

"Oh, and here I thought I wasn't a formidable opponent?"

"I just didn't see you as the type to have such... wily tricks in you, is all,"

Aether's hand is still clasped around his wrist, and he tugs the stranger a little closer. He's stumbling into Aether's chest, and Aether's lips brush against the side of his face as he speaks.

"Should've looked harder, then." The man’s breath hitches, and Aether swears he inches closer, because then his dripping hands are gripping Aether’s shoulder and the small of his back, and Aether leans into it, his guard slipping.

… And then the man is flipping him with perfect technique.

Once again, bastard.

Aether breaks his fall purely on instinct, rolling on his shoulder and kicking back up, making a run for his sword. Poet Shirt kicks it away.

“Not this time,” The man tuts, condescending as if talking to an infant. “Hand-to-hand,” He says.

Aether glares at him, but supposes he isn’t bad practice at all. Water drips down the bastard’s neck and rolls a slow line along the tempting skin under his shirt, which is soaked sheer, clinging to every delicious stroke of his torso. Aether pretends he cannot, in the dim lighting, see those fucking nipples.

They’re caught in their prideful whirlwind of punches and kicks, mangled in the flurry of their informal, dubious scuffle, and Aether’s landing most of his kicks, when the man grabs him again, the same way he did before. But instead of knocking him down and pinning him, he pulls Aether’s body flush against his own.

They both exhale brokenly.

For an agonising second, they stand frozen, the contact between them electrifying.

The outlander lifts his mask slightly, exposing his devilishly perfect mouth, the end curling up in a smirk, and Aether knows crystal clear what he wants.

“I can see the way you look at me,” He trails a finger down the side of Aether’s frowning face, undeterred. “Not so innocent and upstanding, are you, O Hero?”

“Fuck you,” Aether says, to the most difficult person he’s met in Teyvat. The most difficult person with a very fucking responsive mouth and an icy tongue that licks up into every inch of Aether’s like he wants to memorise it.

“Oh, you want to, don’t you,” The stranger says when they break apart, his frigid breath fanning Aether’s face. He says it like a statement, full of brazen confidence, smirking against Aether’s lips.

“Shut up and fucking kiss me again,”

The feeling of the stranger’s hands and mouth on him is downright intoxicating, Aether feels dizzy with it. They kiss. And they kiss, and they don’t stop fucking kissing. They’re both as aggressive in this as they were with the combat, hands racing to cover surface area; and teeth and lips pulling at skin violently, both of them alternating biting along each other’s necks in a feverish, mad rush of lust, a competition to distemper their blank beckoning canvases of skin.

“Who would’ve thought you’re as eager in bed as you are on the battlefield, pretty boy,” The bastard muses, although the tent in his pants shows he clearly isn’t complaining.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be as easy,” Aether drawls.

“I’d really like to see you try to be rude with my dick in your mouth,” The stranger grins, devilish and menacing. Aether pinches those fucking nipples and drinks the resulting moan from the man’s lips, feeling a surge of smugness at shutting the cocky man up.

It’s a contest, they exchange bites and hickeys as if they’re punches and soon the man is kneeling over him and shedding his shirt, trailing his fingers along the waistband of Aether’s pants and tugging.

“Think if I come back here tomorrow you’ll pound me?” Aether breathes, wishing he’d brought a fucking condom. He relishes the heady exhale that follows from the man between his legs.

“You’re such a golden boy, but you’ve got a dirty fucking mouth on you,” But Aether knows the outlander clearly likes that he’s this crude and indecent.

“Would you rather have this dirty fucking mouth on you, then?”

Aether wastes no time waiting for the man’s answer, bringing his mouth to the silky glistening brown of his opponent’s nipples and sucking. The stranger shudders under his touch, and Aether flips them over, settling his ass on the man’s lap.

“You’re obscene,” He says, awed. But no matter how much Aether surprises him, that smug, self-satisfied smirk always stays engraved on the bastard’s face. “Who would’ve thought you were this slutty, Honorary Knight?” The man says, brushing a lock of hair out of his face.

“Like you said, I’m full of surprises,”

The sequential grip on his hips can only be described as a bruising force, as the man presses their crotches together hungrily.

“I can assure you-” A bite. “-It would be far more pleasurable to be full of me instead,” The stranger says, soothing it with his tongue. Yeah, Aether agrees.

Aether presses his hips down, gasping, and he feels the stranger moan into his neck.

“Fuck,” he breathes against Aether’s skin, holding him down the same time he grinds up. The friction is heavenly, and Aether can’t form a single coherent thought in his head anymore.

To say Aether is painfully hard would be an understatement; beads of precum leak from his aching cock, and he bites his lip to suppress a groan as they undulate in their messy grind.

“How do you think those pretty lips of yours would look stretched around my cock?” The man’s grabbing Aether by the hair, and Aether dips down- undoing the button and reaching in to free the outlander’s dick.

“Let’s find out,”

Aether doesn’t want to waste a second. His lips are replacing his hands immediately. He sucks a few times, licks it from base to tip, and swirls his tongue around it. The man’s spread his legs on either side of Aether, and he runs his hands along the taut musculature of his thighs as he sucks.

He follows no particular rhythm, simply taking pleasure in seeing the outlander before him come undone under the wet warmth of his mouth.

“Mmh, I’m close,” The stranger finally pants in warning, and Aether takes that as his cue, swallowing him down to the base and sucking, hard.

The sound the outlander makes when he breaks is so fucking delirious Aether has to clench his fist trying not to come right then. The hot load shot down his throat is viscous and thick, and Aether swallows it as best as he can, ignoring the dribble at the corner of his mouth. He pulls off the man’s cock, sucking on the oversensitive tip just so he can hear him click his tongue at him.

“Fuck- that was-“ The stranger looks at him in awe, warm hand reaching under Aether’s waistband to jack him off. Aether cuts him off with his mouth.

“You talk too much,” he mutters, grinning against those cherry-red lips.

Aether throws his head back, mind razed with desire as the man soothes a deliciously painful bite with his tongue, letting a wanton moan fall from his spit-soaked lips.

They flow messily, the frigid air punctuated with moans, gasps, and the wet sounds of his dick being worked by the stranger’s hand.

“Traveller, you have no idea how debauched you look right now,”

Aether hums in assent, arms looped loosely round the man’s neck, feeling himself tense in pleasure.

The man tightens his grip as he pumps Aether, who finally comes with a broken groan, shuddering on his lap and dropping his forehead to his shoulder.

They sit back, panting, clothes disheveled, lips blood-red, torsos bejewelled with ruby bite marks and plum-coloured hickeys, and god, Aether thinks. He wants to do this all over again.

“So,” Aether breathes, “That was-“

The stranger drags him in for a chaste kiss, before reaching behind his own neck and unclasping a silver chain. From it hangs something iridescent and beguiling, a cetacean-blue teardrop encased in its own intricate wiring.

“What- what is this?” Aether murmurs, still breathless, as the stranger presses the jewelled necklace into his palm and closes his fingers around it.

“A keepsake,” The stranger smiles, not a sly sneer but a genuine, small smile. “Don’t run around and forget me, outlander.”

Aether brings the pendant to his mouth, breathing softly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,”

-

Aether beckons the next morning’s rising sun with his fist between his teeth, eyes squeezed shut as he feverishly pumps himself to completion, a certain pair of periwinkle eyes on his mind.

He’s nearly late for the Knights’ cabinet meeting his presence has been requested at. He pulls a black blazer over his white dress shirt and black corset, slipping into his black slacks and normal combat boots (he’s too poor to afford dress shoes from the cobbler). He makes Paimon her breakfast and then hastily braids his hair with a sandwich in his mouth, and munches it on the way to the Knights’ Headquarters.

He sits next to the Platoon Commander in the boardroom, directly across the Cavalry Captain, who looks worse for wear, and the meeting starts once the Jean walks in, Lisa in tow. She winks at Aether, for no apparent reason.

“We’re here to discuss the plans for the exploration of ravines and underground chambers, as you are all aware,” Jean begins, clasping her hands in front of her. “Lisa has already advised me on the appropriate safety measures to be taken as well as enchanted wards and other ley line phenomena that we should be wary of,”

Aether lets that sink in. He hadn’t run into any enchanted wards, had he?

“Additionally, Aether reported his findings to me earlier,” She motions to the brown file with the report he’d scrawled upon his return, “though it seems we haven’t been able to cover much ground,” Aether flushes, remembering what he’d done- or rather who he’d done last night, instead of focusing on his mission. Kaeya looks at him oddly, but the moment Aether turns to him that calculating gaze is instead rooted on his file.

“Stalactites and stalagmites in the southern caves are actually valuable ore deposits, which I believe we should look towards harvesting. We could send a team down,” Aether starts.

“That should be correct,” Lisa affirms. “Though we’ll need to be wary of potholes,”

“My team has already worked with the Cavalry Captain’s to procure suitable equipment for cave scaling. Should we run into any difficulties, we have three vision wielders with skills that can support us, but we can’t be so sure of things,” the Platoon Commander, Mikhail, inclines his head towards Kaeya, nodding.

“We still don’t know what ley line incidents we could run into; books can’t tell us everything, after all,” is the Cavalry Captain’s input. And that’s when Aether notices it. A hickey on Kaeya’s neck, right at the point where his neck meets his shoulder. It looks to be covered up, but his collar has lightly smudged the concealing powder, revealing it perfectly from Aether’s vantage point. He knows Kaeya brings conquests back to his place regularly, but he still feels an irrational spike of jealousy toward whoever’s getting to touch him so intimately.

They go on discussing the logistics each of their teams can provide, and Aether agrees to enlist in their squadrons for the duration of each expedition. At least these won’t be solo, he reasons.

Kaeya furthers his points by substantiating them with his quadrant’s experiences, pointing out his observations on the structure and features of the caverns they’d explored. Aether is paying attention, but he finds himself getting caught up in the tenor of Kaeya’s voice. It’s like water, Aether thinks. It's such an unseemly, incongruous thought to have-- just so odd to randomly analyse someone's voice in general--, and it makes Aether blink. But it makes sense. Water. Aether doesn't know if Kaeya’s voice rolls over him comfortingly, if his double-entendres wash over him like they do everyone else Kaeya whispers smooth nothings to, or if it's more akin to a jolting splash of cold water, waking him up and making him really want to act on everything he feels, to spar against Kaeya like he's the only opponent worth fighting, to let his fingers ghost over every stratum of smooth gold skin he's wanted to map out with his hands since he first laid eyes on the man.

Maybe fighting Kaeya is fun because he's an enigma- like a sea of unpredictability and guile that still amalgamates into a combat form that oozes refined skill.

Or maybe just everything about Kaeya is as much raw, individual charisma as it is an alluring concoction of sundry other things combined-- drawing Aether in and making him want to delve deeper into his ocean, find out which parts of Kaeya are façades, and which parts are authentic- the real Kaeya, laid bare, no pretences.

But Aether would never say that, any of it, never admit it all to him, because suddenly, those eyes (or the singular eye that isn't covered by an eyepatch), like water, like honey, like flowing life- are periwinkle; and Aether realises just how many things Kaeya hides, how long it'd take to uncover them all, and how wishful all of his thinking really is.

The cold realisation of how little he really knows about Kaeya leaves an acrid taste in his mouth, and when Jean mentions the vertical drop in regards to just how feasible reaching the lower layers are, Aether can’t stop himself from staring right at Kaeya when he says, “I don’t think that’s an issue, I’ll have you know I can go quite deep,”

The darkening of Kaeya’s pupils tells Aether that Kaeya knows he isn’t just talking about caves.

“I think the biggest issue wouldn’t be the feasibility of depth, but rather safety precautions,” Kaeya starts. “We can go down real deep, but rocks, you know, Grand Master. Everything can get pretty hard down there,” He says, twinkling in his eyes reminiscent of how he’d looked as Aether sunk down on his cock just hours ago, blissfully immoral.

“We’d need protection,” Aether agrees, nodding his head thoughtfully. You know, protection like that condom he really should’ve brought last night. Then, just so that Jean doesn’t catch their subtle innuendos, he says. “I would advise enlisting Wagner’s help in manufacturing protective armour and footwear. An iron-leather combination should suffice,”

“Actually, Aether, what exactly did you get up to when you were down there?” Kaeya asks, like the bastard he is. Aether shoots him a dirty look that only widens his smirk further as he tries not to squirm under their scrutiny.

“I… was able to explore a lot, but can’t say I turned up with anything useful to this discussion beyond the ores’ potential,” Aether grinds out, trying not to overtly glare at Kaeya. Lisa looks between them, her gaze unreadable.

Jean, thankfully, saves Aether from elaborating. “Of course, you handled a team mission on your own, and you managed to clear the upper levels of monsters- which will allow us to dispatch more troops in the near future. That itself is more than enough, and we are all very grateful for your help, Honorary Knight,”

Aether assures her it was no trouble at all, before they move on.

The platoon commander presents some more of his findings that revolve around elemental energy and possible mythic fire - which Lisa dismisses facetiously, mentioning purple smog that is said to sap strength.

Aether can’t focus on that very pertinent piece of information because he is currently preoccupied with the very important task of undressing Kaeya with his eyes. Having said yes, indeed, and I agree to sundry different things over the course of this meeting to compensate for his lack of attention, Aether hopes he hasn’t fucked himself over too bad.

He cannot be more glad when Jean finally concludes the meeting, and collects his leaflet of information to look over. By then, Kaeya has left, leaving Aether to walk home. He squashes down the tendrils of disappointment beginning to fester.

”Seems to me like someone's enjoying himself out here. Paying attention to meetings, hm?" Aether doesn't jolt. Speak of the devil. Hands weave around his torso from behind, running up his the lines of his chest. Aether’s hands wind over Kaeya’s.

Aether lets himself be dragged into an a desolate alley between two abandoned buildings, and lets himself be caged against the red brick wall by Kaeya’s hands.

Aether yanks the man closer by his tie. “And what, did you have fun on your field trip last night?”

“Hmm… Would’ve been better with some wine, don’t you think? Would’ve loosened us up a little,”

“You seemed pretty satisfied regardless,” Aether crooks a finger into Kaeya’s collar, pulling him closer and hooking a leg behind his calf, grinding against his hip. “With the way you were moaning and groaning, y’know,” he tilts his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips.

“With the way your pretty face looked on my dick, how could I not?” Kaeya closes the distance between them.

To their credit, they start off slow, they really do. But Aether’s been horny throughout the meeting, and from the way Kaeya’s nipping at his lips, so has he.

They soon devour each other just as roughly as they had the night before. Kaeya shows no mercy to Aether’s lower lip, and Aether takes it upon himself to fill all the empty spaces between Kaeya’s jaw and chest with as many marks as possible, pushing his shirt off his shoulders to make way for his teeth.

“Are you trying to maul me, Traveller?” Kaeya asks, amused when Aether bites the shell of his ear. Aether pulls back, his face quickly saturating with a blush, unable to say anything. He hadn’t realised just how much he was biting Kaeya.

“I just- I didn’t realise- shut up.” Aether mutters, looking away and willing the red on his cheeks to disappear.

“Oh, so you can suck me off without batting an eyelid, but now you’re going to blush like a virgin?” Kaeya teases, and Aether swats his arm lightly.

“Hey, if either of us should be embarrassed here, it’s the one who thought pinching during combat was acceptable,”

Kaeya laughs. He simply spreads his hands, shrugging nonchalantly. “Resourcefulness is a knightly trait, what can I say?”

He runs his hands over Aether’s thin corset as he plunges his tongue into Aether’s mouth once more, cutting off any reply.

By the time they break apart, they’re panting heavier than they do after gruelling training sessions. Not a sight that can be passed off as innocuous by any means, especially not with Kaeya in a state of undress.

“We should go, someone might…” Aether starts, the end of his sentence obvious.

“Not keen on dabbling in exhibitionism? My, traveller, who would’ve thought you’d be such a prude,” Kaeya’s voice drops dangerously low at the end, and heat coils in Aether’s gut.

“Don’t know about you, but I need some lunch right now, Alberich,”

-

“Aether, you know full well that if we go back to either of our places the only thing I’ll be eating is you,” Kaeya’s mouth curls into a razor sharp grin, almost predatory-like in the way it makes a tendril of arousal curl around Aether like a vice. The traveller sighs. He is hungry, and he’d like a meal, at least before lunch hour ends.

“Lunch at Good Hunter, then?”

Aether pauses by the fountain, turning behind. Kaeya has stopped in his tracks and is standing rather petulantly a few paces behind him, arms crossed over his chest. “What?” Aether asks.

“That is so unromantic,”

“What? Fine- bring some candles. Candlelit lunch at Good Hunter,” Aether deadpans. “Romantic enough for you?” Kaeya eyes him distastefully.

“You’re terrible,” He says at last.

“You’re high-maintenance,” Aether levels.

“I’ll have you know I am extremely capable of taking charge,” Kaeya starts, inspecting his nails. “You can simply follow me like my loyal little bitch while I take care of this, hmm, how does that sound to you?” His tone drops dangerously low again, honeyed and rich like a forbidden indulgence Aether’d like to curl his tongue around, and it stabs arousal in his gut.

“S-sounds good, yes,” Aether stammers.

Kaeya leads them practically all over Mondstat city, like a practised tour guide, and Aether lets his eyes drink in the sight of the man, the enigma that pins him, throws good punches, and rips orgasms from him like a whirlwind. Kaeya’s left his shirt unbuttoned at the top, brazenly displaying the reddish purple marks blooming like flowers along his skin. Aether can’t tear his eyes away.

“Add a smidge of wine to it. Needs more flavour,” He hears Kaeya mutter to a stall owner. “Beautiful scarf, by the way. Did you just get it?” The lady blushes furiously, hands faltering as she adds definitely more than just a smidge of wine to Kaeya’s purchase. Aether resists the urge to roll his eyes.

By now he’s acquired a quaint woven basket, in which a miscellany of treasures from their current odyssey lie safely. Hearty leavened loaves of grain, thick, tart jams coupled with creamy butter, bijous of ripe fruit, and as Aether watches Kaeya pack their most recent findings: robust sautéed cuts of assorted meat.

He isn’t surprised when Kaeya disappears into Angel’s Share, returning with a slip of paper that he palms to Aether.

“Death After Noon..." Aether mutters, reading over the orders scrawled haphazardly on the receipt.

"Indeed. Mondstat's specialty: Sparkling Wine mixed with three parts Dandelion Wine," Kaeya closes his eyes and tilts his head back in pleasure, lashes fluttering, a replica of the face he made before he came down Aether’s throat. ”You know... Dandelion Wine has a unique body to it. A sweetness reminiscent of the cider you like,” He eyes Aether now. His tone is… surprisingly intimate, and his face softens, a small smile on his face.

"Ever the connoisseur, are we?" Aether says, because he can't really bring himself to coherently comment on the fact that Kaeya remembers his comfort drink order. He sounds endeared to Aether, fond, if you want an exaggeration. But that could just be Kaeya attempting to superficially charm him, draw him in hook, line and sinker- as is his trademark with everyone else.

Kaeya reenters the tavern to collect their refreshments, and Aether’s eyes follow him as he goes.

Kaeya is a romantic quandary, a foxy smooth-talker who lures his targets into betraying their own vulnerability while remaining completely insular himself. He’s a sacred tome, an individual opus, one woven with deceit and secrets. Aether doesn’t hold it against Kaeya. Being so genial and charming seems to be compensation for his detachment, but it must be lonely living that way. He wonders if Kaeya would ever find someone to trust with that tome, allow them to flip through those delicate pages weathered with time and leadened by burden, and truly allow himself to be understood by another.

By the time Kaeya emerges with two bottles, a dopey look to his eyes, Aether has collected himself. He shoots Kaeya a sleazy grin. He doesn’t need to open his mouth and poke at his drinking habits, because Kaeya narrows his eyes, knowing exactly what Aether’s thinking.

"Wine tasting is an art form. Mondstat's wine is a gift from the Anemo Archon, it's only right that one should learn how to appreciate it.” He waves a gloved hand as he justifies himself.

A wry grin stretches across Aether's face.

"An eye for finer things, eh? Like getting knocked into cesspools?”

“Such a fiendish insult. After everything I’ve done for you,” Kaeya jabs a finger playfully at Aether’s chest. “So ungrateful,” He tuts.

Aether rolls his eyes this time. “I’ve got plenty of ways to show you just how grateful I am,”

“Is that so? Pray tell,”

“Wait- where are we going?” Aether has blindly followed Kaeya all the way to the city’s ferric gates. Like a good little bitch, the voice in his head supplies unhelpfully. They walk north-west toward Starfell Valley before Kaeya finally answers.

“Not to a cave, no worries,” Kaeya sidesteps a sweet flower, his back toward Aether. “Just trust me, you’re in very capable hands,” He drawls.

Before Aether can reply, he continues, this time softer. “It’s merely a spot I visit, on occasion,”

It takes months of knowing Kaeya to recognise that he’s baring a sliver of himself to Aether, and the blond warms at the thought.

“Thousand Winds?” Aether asks, referring to the Thousand Winds Temple they find themselves facing.

The tall stone pillars cage the ruins, mottled grey and smattered with vines. The once glorious ancient amphitheatre is now a husk of its former self, stones weather-beaten and eroded. The annular symmetry has been long shattered, but the bordering columns that stand the test of time only contribute to its mysterious allure. Spines of cracked rubble and stray rocks line the expanse, dark holes excitingly ominous with the hushed promise of treasure. It’s a good day, Aether thinks, because monsters seemed to have strayed from this area. Around them, the wind whistles and howls through the segmental arches, blows leaves off the surface of the derelict podium.

Kaeya’s navy locks whip in the breeze, and he turns his face to Aether, eye twinkling.

“I’ve already seen it, you know,” Aether says. Kaeya’s gaze snaps up to his, and he continues. “There’s no need to wear the patch around me,” Aether realises too late that he’s prying, again, but Kaeya has already turned away, masking whatever expression he didn’t want Aether chancing upon. When Kaeya speaks, Aether’s fairly prepared to play along with whichever deflective joke Kaeya decides to throw at him.

“Diluc thought he’d blinded me, for a while. It was funny, really, I let him assume. Didn’t correct him,” Kaeya gazes at the horizon. “I suppose I took some sort of pleasure in that guilt, because it distracted me from my own. Made it better to see I wasn’t the only one tearing myself up over that day.”

Aether looks over at the man by his side. He’s always known their relationship to be a tumultuous one, but this is the first he’s heard of their… fight.

“I’m assuming you got your-“ Aether cuts himself off.

“Vision? A clever assumption.” The cavalry captain steps closer to Aether, tilting his head lightly. “Yes, that’s how I got it. Can’t say it was glorious or honourable. But I did deserve it,” Aether isn’t sure if Kaeya means the scar or the vision, but he has an inkling they’re merely two byproducts of Kaeya’s decisions that night, and Kaeya’s talking about something else entirely.

If anything, Aether doesn’t know what to make of Kaeya’s trust in him. Kaeya would never bare his soul to a random bedside conquest, would he?

But then Kaeya’s lips are on his, and Aether forgets all about trying to define Kaeya’s intentions on him, because oh that feels so good.

“Aether,” Kaeya’s panting looks erotic, and the saliva- glistening sheen on his lips makes everything harder. Both literally and metaphorically.

“What?” Aether breathes, swallowing.

“Look out,” The man grins, before snaking an arm behind Aether’s neck. By the time Aether’s spun around and disorientation has ebbed away, Kaeya has already shot an icicle point-blank at a dormant ruin guard’s core.

Aether can only look on in abject irritation as the orange backlights flare to life and the mechanical foe takes one lumbering step forward, fire sights locked down on Aether and ready to bombard him with some good ol’ projectiles.

“Kaeya- what the fuck?” He yells, leaping behind a rock, still caught off-guard. There’s a chuckle from somewhere vaguely behind him, but Aether doesn’t have time to shoot a glare at the bastard, because he can hear the mechanical whirring signalling the guard’s reload.

As Aether jumps out and deflects the successive round of explosives with his sword, he turns behind to glare at Kaeya, but not for long before he’s springing back into combat. He can’t catch a glimpse of what Kaeya’s doing, but the basket has been set down and Kaeya’s running behind the sediments- away from the fight, a cloud of frost sparkling in his wake. So much for backup.

It’s only once Aether’s jumped closer to the ruin guard does he notice the glints of swords, the grunts of combat, and the scuffling of feet— unmistakeable signs of combat to his right, obscured partially by the oak trees. He turns, concerned.

Kaeya’s fighting against treasure hoarders, who’ve abandoned their stash right by the ruin guard’s original position, if the frayed maroon sack -lying abandoned in a telltale sign of haste- is any indication.

Aether understands the situation quickly, Kaeya had triggered the ruin guard so that he could drive them to flee, and catch them unprepared.

Typical Kaeya, smart and wily as always. But Aether’s also intrigued, if Kaeya’s tried similar stratagems before he really doubts the captain would have received positive feedback from the knights. They’re far too upstanding to employ methods that risk their troops’ safety.

But Aether isn’t an ordinary knight.

Aether knows what to do. Sure, that idiot should’ve just told him so he could’ve done this sooner- but Aether can pick it up just fine from here. He’s memorised this ruin guard’s typical attack patterns, and stays at a distance for a little while, giving it a wide berth, luring it into using homing projectiles and destructive jumps. He times his swerve just right, jumping out of the way at the last moment in a precise fashion, letting the missed projectiles smash into the tree by the treasure hoarders’ leader.

He watches, then, as it falls, and once the man is forced to dodge, Kaeya has him.

Kaeya, foot on the toppled hoarder, raises an eyebrow at Aether. But his lip is curling upwards, and Aether’s grinning in return.

Aether leaps and launches two successive mid-air strikes at the guard’s core, ending the battle swiftly as the giant hits the ground.

Once they’ve cleared the situation, Aether collects the goods.

“I thought you’d have expressed more… dissent toward my methods, traveller.” Kaeya leans against one of the dilapidated temple’s pillars, arms crossed against his chest.

“Why? Because Jean would’ve?” Kaeya doesn’t answer. “You should know that I won’t. You got the job done. It was quick thinking.” Aether says.

Kaeya hums noncommittally and Aether kicks dust as he bends down to pick the basket up.

“I get to see more and more of you every day, Aether. We all know I’m a fan of expedient methods, but I had no inkling it’s the same for you,”

“Didn’t you say something about enjoying putting allies and enemies alike into difficult situations? I do too. And if it gets the job done, I don’t care about the methods,”

“The ends justify the means,” Kaeya assents, a small smile playing on his lips.

Aether leans in and kisses him gingerly, hand framing his cheek like he’s precious. “You shouldn’t worry about what I think of you. I’m not the kind of person who needs to be impressed.” Kaeya doesn’t grace that with a response, but he gives Aether a small smile.

“Maybe I just enjoy flaunting my skills,” He murmurs after a second, disarming grin back in place.

“Put on a show then,” Aether wraps his arms around Kaeya’s neck, and the hands on his waist pull him closer. They get too caught up in each other, which seems to be their modus operandi with the frequency it happens at, before they’re finally breaking apart.

“Shall we?” Aether prods Kaeya’s hip. “We aren’t frozen in place, after all,”

The cavalry captain full-on grins this time. “Quick learner, aren’t you? Can’t let this wine warm up before we’re there, now, can we?” he waves the bottle, and Aether lets out a surprised laugh.

There’s ice blooming down the side of it, translucent little fractals descending the neck from Kaeya’s fingers.

Kaeya uses his vision to keep his wine cold. How quaint.

Kaeya moves to kiss him again, but Aether turns his face, focusing instead on a flaxen shimmer that piques his interest. “One second,” He whispers.

“Did you just ignore me.” Kaeya sounds utterly unamused, but Aether is a few paces away already.

“Sorry babe, duty calls,” Aether was right. The glint that caught his eye was a precious chest. He runs toward it, and he swears everything moves in slow motion, like it’s a fucking romcom and he’s reuniting with the love of his life after a long war spent separated from them. “Bless the Archons. Bless Venti. Bless everything. Never been happier.” Aether opens it, and the golden sparks flying everywhere really do resemble the cliche depictions of love.

“I cannot believe I got curved for a. A treasure chest,” Kaeya says from behind him, incredulous, as Aether adds the artefacts and enchantment ore to his knapsack like a greedy squirrel.

“Come here,” Aether says, almost placatingly, and turns to kiss Kaeya soundly on the mouth, gasping in surprise when Kaeya squeezes his tongue between Aether’s lips. He responds in kind, pressing their bodies together and letting the Cavalry Captain push him down, grinding against him dirtily. Somewhere down the line Kaeya’s hands have clasped his ass and his own have wheedled their way under Kaeya’s shirt, hungry for more.

Aether breaks apart to gasp for air. “We are not fucking in a cave,” He says, at last.

“Because you prefer getting pounded in them, isn’t that right?”

Aether leans back on his hands and slowly places his legs on either side of Kaeya.

God, he can never resist Kaeya. He can’t keep the arousal out of his voice when he says, “Maybe I’ll retract my last statement then,”

That punches a breath out of Kaeya, who gives him a pretty little hickey in return, right under his jaw, while Aether slowly undulates beneath him, cresting waves of pleasurable friction for both of them.

They don’t know who’s more undone, but at any rate, after they’re breaking apart and there’s a string of saliva connecting their mouths, Aether’s rumbling stomach begins its new career as a cockblocker.

“I need some meat right around- no, stop grinning like that, not your meat, I mean the edible- I mean. The boar meat.”

“Poor Honorary Knight. Of course, I’ll stuff you full of meat, don’t worry.”

“You’re a dick,”

“You love my dick,”

“Who says you’re known for your wit? Because I think they were sorely mistaken.”

“Be nice or you’re not going to get any fresh, juicy-“

“No. Stop.”

“- tender, succulent-“

“Oh my god, Kaeya.”

“- finger licking, firm, homegrown-“

“Please shut up.”

“- plump, crispy-“

“Crispy?”

“… You must be hearing things. I never said that.”

Aether catches the Cavalry Captain by surprise, kissing him again, the ghost of a grin on his lips.

“You’re cute, actually,” He traces the outline of the eyepatch. “Even though you were spewing bullshit,”

Kaeya raises an eyebrow. “That should be the last word you use as a descriptor for me,”

“I just like it when you’re comfortable with me, you bigshot,” Kaeya flips his coin between nimble fingers, but now he says nothing. “You’d never let yourself drop your act around anyone else. Maybe not even with me, but I like seeing you for you, or as close as you can get,” Aether mumbles, ears reddening.

Kaeya sloshes the Tuscan sun-coloured liquid in his cabernet. “Delectable, isn’t it?” He says, taking a sip.

The Dandelion Wine's aftertaste is saccharine, and Aether can't stop himself from downing the entire Bordeaux in under five seconds. It's what glacé dandelions would taste like, and he sees why Kaeya recommends it.

They’ve just finished a second joint expedition, a productive one this time, and they’re sitting on the bayou overlooking Aether’s spawn point, as Kaeya likes to call it, while they drink cheap wine and sway like dancing flowers in the wind.

Since that evening with Kaeya, things have changed. Subtly, at first, but now Kaeya’s gracing him with grand displays of affection out of nowhere, hugs and kisses in public, and Aether wouldn’t change it for the world.

But more than that, he’s been showing Aether he’s far more than just another sexual conquest. He doesn’t need to explicitly state it. It’s clear from the way he’s been baring his unabridged self to the traveller, airing parts of him that no one’s ever borne witness to.

“Maybe tonight I’ll tell you more about Khaenri’ah, like a bedtime story, but only if you tell me one about you too,”

Aether kisses his cheek. “I’d like that,”

“You’d better not be fucking your way into my heart,” Kaeya tuts jokingly.

“And what if I am?” Aether says playfully, running his hands through Kaeya’s navy hair, “What if I really do want to know you for you, to love you for—“ Aether stops in his tracks, realising he’d let it slip out. Kaeya’s pendant feels light where it sits against his chest.

“- You,” Aether finishes, letting his sentence hang limply in the air. He turns to face Kaeya, whose expression is inscrutable.

Kaeya kisses him gently, a hand on his cheek. “Then I’d let you, because I'm the same with you,” He says, and that’s all that really matters.