by: whimsicott
Venti knows that this began because of alcohol, but a part of him still finds that hard to believe. After all, why would Diluc kiss him when there's alcohol on his lips? He has thought that Diluc hates alcohol, but perhaps, Diluc does not hate it so much if it is on Venti. Perhaps, Diluc does not mind entertaining him with the silly songs he hums as his head hits the pillow under him. Perhaps, even, Diluc likes the way Venti twirls his finger around his long red hair.
"Master Diluc," Venti says softly, with an almost laughter interrupted by his own breathlessness. "Do you want this as much as I do?"
Diluc looks at him with those red eyes soft. Diluc looks at him in a way that makes Venti think that this could be love. That this could be something more than a drunken one-night-stand and poor impulse control. And for that, Venti wants to take Diluc's lips again and again until he tastes like the alcohol on Venti's tongue.
"I should be the one asking," Diluc says quietly, his hand stroking Venti's cheek with all the affection such a somber man could manage. "Are you sure this isn't a mistake?"
Mistake. Venti is all too well-acquaintanced with mistakes. From his teasing Morax to his leaving Mondstadt the first time. From him playing pranks on the tsaritsa to letting people go without telling them that he loves them in his own way.
Yes, Venti knows of mistakes, but this does not feel like one. He smiles as he brings himself up, placing a kiss on Diluc's lips. He pushes in his tongue, feeling Diluc's hot mouth against his own, tasting Diluc as he simply is in front of him. This does not feel like a mistake, Venti knows. This is exactly where he's meant to be right now, slightly inebriated and entirely infatuated with a man warm like a flickering flame in the depths of winter.
"I want you, Master Diluc," Venti says in a voice barely louder than a whisper. In a voice firmer than mountains. "I want this."
And Diluc complies with another kiss on Venti's lips. Chaste, at first, before growing into something more. Something deep and feels like worship that Venti does not deserve. Diluc complies with his hand unbuttoning Venti's top, exposing skin against the warmth swirling around them.
"You are," Diluc mutters when they part, his red eyes clear in front of Venti, his lips trembling ever so slightly. "An irresponsible drunk."
"I know," Venti giggles. "I know, and?"
"And you are beautiful," Diluc says quietly, like a confession of a truth he does not quite want to admit.
Venti laughs at these words. He runs his fingers down Diluc's hair, combing down until he reaches for Diluc's hairband. He releases Diluc's hair, letting the hair veils him from the rest of the world. Then, he picks up locks in his hand, letting it fall in between his fingers when he leans in to place a kiss on them.
It should be Venti who says Diluc is beautiful, with how alive he is. It should be Venti who tells Diluc that his flame blossoms like no other in the world. Yet here is Diluc, telling Venti this praise in the quietest of voices.
"Master Diluc," Venti says with a smile, reaching up to the man over him. He spreads out his hand, ready to take Diluc entirely. This is what he wants from the deepest part of his heart. This is what he wants, his soul resonating to this moment in all the ways it should not.
Diluc lets out a deep sigh before kissing Venti once more. In these kisses, Venti feels like he can drown and burn all at the same time. In these kisses, Venti would like to disappear. But it is not he that will disappear first. Diluc is human, burning bright with life. Diluc will fade one day and all that will remain is the memory of this kiss, the memory of his touches against Venti's body.
