[ like the eager slant of sun, like the winding down of days - kaeya's body against his feels the same way. it feels as though the completion of a thought, the answer of a question he had not quite formed. kaeya, who has always been to diluc so many things, is not without his complexities now. and yet, all that is dark and aching in diluc dampens. water pail to glowing ashes, he feels blanketed by kaeya's certainty of form - the way he returned, no matter his hours away.
and so, it is no surprise that he supplies sincerely and sweetly the moment that kaeya steps into arms: ]
As if you hadn't already. [ it is a mumble, but the words honey themselves in the last vestiges of sleep. he winds his hands around to kaeya's back, smooths the meat of his thumbs against the rising steps of his back. he'll have to tell adelinde there shall be two plates in the morning, to modify the usual course of his breakfasts to feed kaeya and his ever-shrinking waist. he makes a little noise of discontent as he buries his nose against the dark curve of his neck, rests his mouth against the fluttering artery that works its way beneath the skin.
he hadn't not noticed the outfit kaeya had climbed the old masonry in, but he hadn't been able to properly process the intricate lay of beads and feathers - the heavy slide of solid golds. he feels along the pliable fabric, thoughtless and indolent. it feels lovely, he thinks. as lovely as he is. ]
Beautiful. [ a tender non sequitur. he finds himself letting it melt off his tongue, round itself against kaeya's bared shoulder. in the petulant parts of himself, he thinks how unjust it was of kaeya to make him wait. he takes a breath. ] If only I weren't the last to have seen it.
[ he knows better, but it is all for the act. a fine thread diluc weaves through his fingers and back to his. he knows it better than anyone that kaeya had arrived in mondstadt earlier that day, but no stitch of unusual clothing was found upon him. and he knows, too, that kaeya knows it. ]
Lies and slander. Your wine cellar is still fully stocked, is it not?
[ of course he knows that isn't what diluc means, just as he knows diluc knows getting kaeya to accept a single cent of the ragnvindr riches has always and will always be akin to pulling teeth. he can read the implication behind the words perfectly fine, but thinking about phrases like stealing away a certain someone's heart makes him want to jump straight back out of the window, and he's put far too much effort into his attire for it to simply go to waste.
...not that diluc is any help in that regard, and he finds himself grateful for the night's shadows as it hides the darkness of the flush creeping across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. he's been called beautiful many times before, of course, and brushed it off as his due every time, but hearing the word fall from diluc's mouth - soft and reverent, more breath than sound - leaves him as shy and flustered as if he were a child once more. like this, he can almost believe that diluc has somehow managed to see past his polished physical exterior to the rotten core underneath, and despite all evidence to the contrary, finds him...beautiful. ]
My, what would your fans say if they knew of how greedy the gentlemanly Master Diluc could be?
[ he places a hand between them, breaking the embrace, to push diluc lightly towards the bed - partly to tease and titillate, partly in self-defense against the relentless tenderness he's being so ruthlessly attacked with. he is a creature of ice and chill after all, both as guarded as a glacier and fragile as frost, and diluc is nothing if not the sun, the furnace, the crackle of a hearth and roar of an inferno. too close and too long in his grasp, kaeya often fears, and he may just melt away until there's nothing left.
sometimes, he thinks he may just one day let him.
but not today. he has other rather more fun activities in mind, eye narrowing in sharp amusement as he tosses his braid behind him, hips swaying just enough to hear the rustle of fabric and the jangle of jewelry with each step he takes towards the bed.]
Would it soothe your ire to know that you're the only one getting a private show? You better be grateful.
[ the heat kaeya holds in his skin is fleeting, as much as fire itself is. diluc knows he toes the precipice of tolerance, peers over the edge - he knows it, because he knows himself. he knows it, because fire always starves itself. and yet, he thinks he should like to wield as though a warm slant of sunlight or the sliver of some dawn. he thinks he would like to make bloom in kaeya the recognition of what he is, as much as he must think - ]
It's nothing new, [ he retorts, disturbed as a smoldering bonfire is. disgruntled, to be risen from the place he's burrowed himself against. the hand that parts them is rude, but he obeys it. he sniffs. ] You take from my cellars whenever it pleases you.
[ tit-for-tat. he sees the wound in his defense and leaves it to bleed against the separation, reluctant as diluc is to be parted from the grey shadows that lap at the boundary of his skin. that feeling rides in the cut of his shoulders, in the downward curve of his mouth, but his eyes - they follow kaeya as an ember follows kindling. they burn a searching line from the familiar round of kaeya's hips up to the bright catch of amusement that banks itself against the lone star of his eye, in the parting of his lips.
comprehension of what kaeya tells him comes against the impulse to know what it is to wrap the dark of his thick braid about his closed fist. it comes, too, against the want so deep it aches in his teeth: what would it be to pull? to harness?
the weight of it settles him against the bed, body permissive as much as his mouth and mind put up resistance.
it's a game. play the game.
be good. ]
Maybe, [ diluc ekes out. at least, that would be his perception. instead, the pause of it is weighted like a sword in the hand - a bundle of fresh calla lilies, dredged from vernal shores. for all that he is dressed in modest nightclothes, he knows better than to think it hides him the quick of kaeya's insight anymore.
how quick he's always been, to be flayed against kaeya's whims. even now, his hands rest against the rumpled sheets. he lifts his chin.
and still, as always and ever, he worries the inside of his own mouth. ]
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and so, it is no surprise that he supplies sincerely and sweetly the moment that kaeya steps into arms: ]
As if you hadn't already. [ it is a mumble, but the words honey themselves in the last vestiges of sleep. he winds his hands around to kaeya's back, smooths the meat of his thumbs against the rising steps of his back. he'll have to tell adelinde there shall be two plates in the morning, to modify the usual course of his breakfasts to feed kaeya and his ever-shrinking waist. he makes a little noise of discontent as he buries his nose against the dark curve of his neck, rests his mouth against the fluttering artery that works its way beneath the skin.
he hadn't not noticed the outfit kaeya had climbed the old masonry in, but he hadn't been able to properly process the intricate lay of beads and feathers - the heavy slide of solid golds. he feels along the pliable fabric, thoughtless and indolent. it feels lovely, he thinks. as lovely as he is. ]
Beautiful. [ a tender non sequitur. he finds himself letting it melt off his tongue, round itself against kaeya's bared shoulder. in the petulant parts of himself, he thinks how unjust it was of kaeya to make him wait. he takes a breath. ] If only I weren't the last to have seen it.
[ he knows better, but it is all for the act. a fine thread diluc weaves through his fingers and back to his. he knows it better than anyone that kaeya had arrived in mondstadt earlier that day, but no stitch of unusual clothing was found upon him. and he knows, too, that kaeya knows it. ]
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[ of course he knows that isn't what diluc means, just as he knows diluc knows getting kaeya to accept a single cent of the ragnvindr riches has always and will always be akin to pulling teeth. he can read the implication behind the words perfectly fine, but thinking about phrases like stealing away a certain someone's heart makes him want to jump straight back out of the window, and he's put far too much effort into his attire for it to simply go to waste.
...not that diluc is any help in that regard, and he finds himself grateful for the night's shadows as it hides the darkness of the flush creeping across his cheeks to the tips of his ears. he's been called beautiful many times before, of course, and brushed it off as his due every time, but hearing the word fall from diluc's mouth - soft and reverent, more breath than sound - leaves him as shy and flustered as if he were a child once more. like this, he can almost believe that diluc has somehow managed to see past his polished physical exterior to the rotten core underneath, and despite all evidence to the contrary, finds him...beautiful. ]
My, what would your fans say if they knew of how greedy the gentlemanly Master Diluc could be?
[ he places a hand between them, breaking the embrace, to push diluc lightly towards the bed - partly to tease and titillate, partly in self-defense against the relentless tenderness he's being so ruthlessly attacked with. he is a creature of ice and chill after all, both as guarded as a glacier and fragile as frost, and diluc is nothing if not the sun, the furnace, the crackle of a hearth and roar of an inferno. too close and too long in his grasp, kaeya often fears, and he may just melt away until there's nothing left.
sometimes, he thinks he may just one day let him.
but not today. he has other rather more fun activities in mind, eye narrowing in sharp amusement as he tosses his braid behind him, hips swaying just enough to hear the rustle of fabric and the jangle of jewelry with each step he takes towards the bed.]
Would it soothe your ire to know that you're the only one getting a private show? You better be grateful.
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It's nothing new, [ he retorts, disturbed as a smoldering bonfire is. disgruntled, to be risen from the place he's burrowed himself against. the hand that parts them is rude, but he obeys it. he sniffs. ] You take from my cellars whenever it pleases you.
[ tit-for-tat. he sees the wound in his defense and leaves it to bleed against the separation, reluctant as diluc is to be parted from the grey shadows that lap at the boundary of his skin. that feeling rides in the cut of his shoulders, in the downward curve of his mouth, but his eyes - they follow kaeya as an ember follows kindling. they burn a searching line from the familiar round of kaeya's hips up to the bright catch of amusement that banks itself against the lone star of his eye, in the parting of his lips.
comprehension of what kaeya tells him comes against the impulse to know what it is to wrap the dark of his thick braid about his closed fist. it comes, too, against the want so deep it aches in his teeth: what would it be to pull? to harness?
the weight of it settles him against the bed, body permissive as much as his mouth and mind put up resistance.
it's a game. play the game.
be good. ]
Maybe, [ diluc ekes out. at least, that would be his perception. instead, the pause of it is weighted like a sword in the hand - a bundle of fresh calla lilies, dredged from vernal shores. for all that he is dressed in modest nightclothes, he knows better than to think it hides him the quick of kaeya's insight anymore.
how quick he's always been, to be flayed against kaeya's whims. even now, his hands rest against the rumpled sheets. he lifts his chin.
and still, as always and ever, he worries the inside of his own mouth. ]