primos | weekend at zhongli’s 🕶

weekend at zhongli’s 🕶

( continuation of {HERE}.

it’s strange, having any sort of guest in the usually quiet apartment he has learned to call his own. occasionally, he’ll visit what remains of his old domains scattered throughout liyue; now, they are overrun with plant life and monsters and zhongli thinks back to when they were filled with laughter and love, if he dares to even call it that.

nowadays, he resigns himself to the mortal way of living: paying rent for a humble one bedroom apartment close to his place of employment. while he does have a second bedroom, he also has a spare futon that was imported in from inazuma back before the trading embargo really heated up. it’s never served the purpose of what it’s meant to, of course, with his only overnight guest ever being hu tao who had come over to work through some files and then passed out in the guest room from sheer exhaustion.

this is different.

hosting venti, his oldest living friend, seems to make him hyper aware of how little he has to offer as a host. liyue harbor is rich in history and activities, but his apartment itself is bleak. to some degree, he suspects, venti won’t be surprised - zhongli is an old man, after all. a blockhead. his boring apartment, with traditional liyue fixtures and kettles, speaks to that. he supposes venti won’t be spending too much time in it, but it still makes zhongli aware of how mortal they are, now, even as retired gods in name.

so when morning comes, after he’s certain venti is comfortably suited, zhongli can’t stop thinking of how soft venti’s hair was when he touched and how much zhongli wanted to stay up all night with him counting stars and recounting old tales until venti fell asleep, perhaps leaned against him, and zhongli could ensure he slept safely.

he almost burns his hand on the stove as he prepares them breakfast, zoning out like this. his hair is pulled back as usual and he’s wearing something much more casual than his suit - simple house clothes that are a single layer each, that still cover most of his skin but make him look younger. )

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( cruel and unusual.

he’s actually thinking about pushing venti down into the crisp and clean sheets, thinking about tearing those leggings more…

but he rolls his eyes again. he leans in close, warmly, lingering — and then plucks his jacket back from venti’s shoulders, golden eyes glowing in the darkness. )

Rest well, drunken bard. Don’t ruin the sheets.

[ In one fell swoop, Venti loses the heat to his body. He feels cold. The loss of Zhongli's jacket makes him feel lonely. So he sighs and stumbles to the door – waving a hand dismissively. ]

Never. I'm a good boy, after all. The best. I'll treat your bed kindly, gentle and –

[ He mumbles something incoherent, giving a nod before the door shuts. All he's doing is leaving them both to their ridiculous thoughts. Of course, it doesn't stop him from crawling into Zhongli's bed with no care or attention to study him – not when he's this drunk. All he cares about is how soft Zhongli's sheets feel against his face as he lays down. But... will sleep take him? ]

( idiot bard. absurd. unbelievable. it doesn’t make sense that of all the immortals out there, he had to grow attached to this one.

zhongli leaves to the guest room, leaving the door slightly ajar. he hangs his jacket on the back of his chair and then glances over at the bed, the moonlight illuminating it. sighing, he takes a seat and unlaces his boots and strips down to his undergarments.

what a day. what a god damn day.

zhongli still remembers how it felt to hold venti’s hand, how it felt laying beside him. ah…

it’s been a long time since he felt so wound-up. his hand drops down between his thighs, remembering how soft venti’s skin was. his eyes flutter shut and his palm ghosts over the head of his cock which is still half-hard from all of their banter and looking back to earlier today. he sighs, that brief touch to the clothed head of his cock electric already. there’s no way postponing this, is there?

his eyes close once more and he slips his hand down beneath the fabric and tugs his cock free. only then does he slowly curl his fingers around the base of it, fingertips gliding delicately as he imagines venti might, considering their size difference and the fact they had avoided anything even mildly scandalous over the centuries.

he’s really hard, now, the top of his cock beading with pre-cum. )

[ It was a strange moment settling into Zhongli's bed.

His frame was so tiny in it, nearly drowning at this rate. How desperately he wanted to prove Zhongli wrong – that this bed was way better. It's stiff, just like his borrowed one, and he's realizing that maybe...the size is the issue? It feels lonely and as he grumbles and rolls to his side? There's no position that makes him feel any better.

He sobers up, ten minutes maybe, just looking at the ceiling. Sleep doesn't take him, steal him away from Liyue. Venti wonders if Zhongli was already asleep, if he passed out like a stone. Somehow, in that imaginative mind of his, he doesn't think of Zhongli jerking off – no, actually he's fairly chaste. His hand ghosts the space next to him, wondering if the old geo would prefer the left or right side of a bed... very serious questions, you know.

...Maybe part of him really wants to know.

Venti scoots to the edge of the bed, crawling (thanks for the quick dick rub) like a literal fucking toddler to get out of it. He's on his way to Zhongli, drunk enough to try and answer his own thought. And... maybe drunk enough to want to see how Zhongli looks at his most peaceful... ]

( even if it’s been awhile, zhongli takes his time. his hair is pulled loose, freely spilling over his chest. the way he’s situated on the bed, his side profile is visible through the doorway.

zhongli’s fist moves slowly up and down. he’s sizable, even given his own stature, and to be honest, in the moonlight, veins of golden geo glow even along his cock.

zhongli’s breathing is heavy, a low moan like the rumble of stones, as he dares to even bite his bottom lip. )

[ Frustrations can do strange things to a man. Venti lingers on the smell of earth from Zhongli's bed, beckoned to go back to feel the sheets more intimately. His own stubbornness gets the best of him as he finally roots himself down to the floor enough to make his way to the spare room. He doesn't fumble. He's soft, nearly gliding on the air itself.

For being a drunkie, he sure did move stealthily.

When he approaches the door – the moan makes his body freeze up. Wrong element. It causes a confused heat to radiate through his body when he barely sees through the darkness to the golden glow lighting his friend up so beautifully. A hand shoots up to clasp upon his lips when he realizes what he's seeing, Venti's drunk but he's not stupid. He pulls away, eyes down to the ground.

That heart of his felt so mortal now, rush of excitement and guilt pumping his heart endlessly into a frenzied state.

But... he tilts his gaze back up, gently to rest his body barely enough into the doorframe...

Two truths were realized: Zhongli was not some boring old stone and Venti liked how Zhongli's cock filled his hand. He looks beautiful like this, even in the dimness he was something to marvel at... ]

( it’s truly an act of self-love, considering he feels too guilty to say his friend’s name. that would be too much, even for him. but it doesn’t stop the fantasies of venti on his knees, lavishing his cock with gentle affection.

that particular mental image makes him fist himself a little hard, tugging, another shaky moan passing through his parted lips. his muscles flex with the exertion, body glistening with the sweat of it and from the alcohol in his system making him feel overheated. the bed smells like venti, faintly, and he should have put his jacket back on just for this but—

his hand moves even faster, trying to chase an orgasm that wants to happen but so stubbornly isn’t. )

[ Before he knows what he's doing, his hand leaves his mouth. It travels south, cupping at himself with another realization: he was getting hard. Venti's cock deals with the binding of his tights and shorts, but his fingers feel it grow stiff so quickly.

Zhongli is beautiful – putting cor lapis to shame and being more treasured than it too. Seeing him get off brings less confusion and guilt over time, allowing attraction to fill the void. His mind begins to wonder, how would his cock feel pulsing that beautiful geo between his own fingers..? Could he even grip onto Zhongli with one hand...?

So many questions were snuffed out, all he thinks of now is Zhongli was bringing himself closer to an orgasm. He inches forward only when his speed picks up – and maybe Venti was cupping and fondling himself to match the speed.

Careful to be quiet, he'll save the regret for later... for seeing his friend so pleasured rested above all other concerns. ]

( even if he wants to make this last, he feels himself nearing the edge. his breathing is shallow and he glows brighter as he spills onto his own hand, getting some high up on his chest.

he murmurs something softly as he comes, an old liyue term of endearment, still too guilty to breathe venti’s name into existence. if he doesn’t say it, it’ll be fine, right? right.

his panting is heavy, trying to catch his breath, not yet ready to open his eyes. )

[ It's too dim to see how thick his seed was spilling over himself. He isn't sure how much of a mess Zhongli makes, but when the man's form seizes up – Venti's glowing. He hasn't stopped touching himself, squeezing at the growing tension of his cock, finding the fullness of his balls needing relief more and more as each second passes.

Any admiration was gone as he pulls himself away in a haze, Zhongli's orgasm a sight that will be burned into his mind. Drunk. Lustful. Confused. They wash together as he silently rushes back to Zhongli's room – returning to deny his guilt and ignore his feelings. Crawling into the bed with his own pained erection, perhaps it was penance for the voyeurism – the desire he wanted to keep watching Zhongli in his most private time. His face buries into the pillows, cock pinned down into the bed with minimal relief but... maybe he can just sleep it off – and safely dream of Zhongli instead. ]

( only when venti is gone does zhongli finally open his eyes. he stares down at the white clinging between his fingers and he sighs. it felt good, to relieve the tension, but it felt rather empty. he didn’t scratch the itch as much as he had wanted it to.

he reaches for a tissue nearby, cleaning himself up and shifting his cock back into his undergarments. while he wasn’t as sexually charged, now, ready to pop a boner at a legging tear, he feels mildly guilty and hyper aware of his own loneliness.

sleeping it off will be good. )

[ It takes so much for Venti to just let his body rest. To ease up from the tension at his cock and ignore the fresh imagery in his mind. He replays it – each deep husky moan, each pump of his fist... but the bard has to sleep, right? Perhaps his hand reaches down to fondle himself – feel the lingering erection that pins his shorts down into the bed.

With frustration overcoming him, Venti just bundles himself into Zhongli's sheets, breathes his scent in, and succumbs to sleep.

Somehow, though, in the morning he becomes untangled – laying flat on his back with his arm splayed out like a spider. The giant bed has its benefits for stretching. When Venti is woken, Zhongli may find the boy plagued with morning wood though. Sorry not sorry. ]

( which of the many gods he has sealed or slain put him into this particular situation?

zhongli is indeed awake fairly early and showers and dresses in casual liyue robes before he goes to check on venti. just to see if that bed did him any more justice and maybe ask if he wanted to have breakfast on the deck.

it’s hard to not notice the morning wood. and it’s hard not to feel a pang of desire. apparently last night just created the taste in his mouth as opposed to putting out the fire. )

Barbatos. It’s time to wake up.

( s-slightly nudging his shoulder. far away from that tempting cock. )

[ He's rooted to the bed, doing his best impression of Zhongli – unmovable. His chest raises slowly with each breath, peaceful as he was outrageous the night before. Duality, thy name is Barbatos.

The whisper of his name and nudge doesn't do much. He simply stirs, clamping his legs together and shifting onto his side, facing Zhongli. His cheek tucks against his bicep, a groan muttered under his own heavy slumber.

He was one of those nappers that just turn it into a 15 hour coma, honestly. ]

( zhongli can’t help but admire him as he sleeps. he’s truly an angel fallen from celestia.

his expression remains soft and he hesitates before threading his fingers into the bard’s hair. it’s soft and messy and pretty. )

Honestly… ( honestly what? that venti is a menace? yes. that venti is adorable? also true. that his heart aches to lay with him? also fact. )

[ He's still when Zhongli touches him. Even in his slumber, the geo has a way to resonate with the anemo. He's long since lost his cyan glow, but he feels... sated. Calmed. His form stopping a restless movement because of Zhongli's fingers through the tufts of hair. Venti isn't sure if what he saw last night was some drunken misunderstanding but... he hopes not.

And truthfully, he does dream of Morax in ways that make his chest raise a bit quicker. Hm. ]

( what a brat…

zhongli’s smile is gentle as he runs his fingers once more through venti’s hair before he pulls away to go make breakfast. if he stays any longer, he’ll be tempted to lay down and do something about the ache in his chest and lately loins. )

Rest, then, Barbatos.

[ And he does. For someone seemingly teasing him about the bed, he won't complain about Zhongli's. Now that he's settled, his form snug as a bug – he sleeps until the smell of cooking stirs him up.

When he finally awakens and makes his way to the kitchen, a repeat of the day prior, something was different. Even as Zhongli finishes his cooking, Venti spends the next 10 or 20 minutes getting up fully.

When Venti arrives, he's decided to prepare for the day with one less holey tights on his body and instead – abandoned most of his attire in favor of an oversized robe he snagged from Zhongli's room. Hm.

Maybe he just liked the smell or missed his jacket... either way – ]

Yoohoo. Good morning!

[ He's not too hungover but, he knows he can't look at Zhongli in the eyes yet. ]

( zhongli may have a slight crisis. his gaze wanders to venti, in the middle of saying “good morning” when he notices venti in liyue attrie. the robe is too big on him and it shows a little more skin than venti’s usual attire.

he quickly looks away, tips of his ear red. )

Good morning. There’s sparkling wine on the deck already. I’ll bring out our breakfast soon.

( wining and dining continues. )

Oh... huh. You sure we didn't tap all of Liyue dry last night? Sure felt like it, ahaha.

[ He's awkward but when his gaze looks up – Zhongli looks away. Huh. He tenses up just a little before nodding, walking the short walk to the door leading to the deck. ]

I think you like me drunk more than you let on, Zhongli!

[ Venti lets a small laugh slip past his lips, easing back to their normal dynamic ... despite how last night haunts him. He pinches the top of the robe, hiding his archon marks before stepping out – disappearing in favor of settling already.

Except by the time Zhongli finds him, both hands are over his eyes. The sun.......

Oh well, sober up, shitlord. ]

( zhongli’s expression is endlessly amused. a hangover, classic.

he carries out a place of rice and egg cooked lightly with soy sauce. he takes a seat beside venti, trying not to stare at his legs or neck. )

I can brew some tea, if you’re really suffering that much. ( he’s kind of a jerk as he tries to remove one of venti’s hands from his eyes. )

[ The food sounds delicious when he can summon the strength to eat. He's nursing a drink in his hand already, half tempted to just take the bottle hostage.

When Zhongli pulls his hand away, he hisses out with his eyes shut. ]

It's not suffering. I call it, uh... adjusting. Yeah! [ Give him his hand back, jerk. ] How long have you been up for?

An hour or so.

( this hand is his now as he stares quizzically at venti’s face. )

Are you all right?

( he’s not used to venti quite like this, even if you discount the pretty way liyue clothing accents him. )

I am. I haven't socially drank like that in... a, a while. It's different drinking alone. You stop when you get the job done. [ A buzz, plastered, but – with Zhongli? He felt so free and happy. He wanted to just enjoy the night. Endlessly, he wanted the night to keep outrunning the morning sun. Now the sun is giving a big middle finger to the bard.

But, yeah, they're totally still holding hands. ] Did I embarrass you? Be honest, now.

Ah… in the moment, maybe. But in hindsight? Not really.

( how long can two gods hold hands before one pulls away. find out.

zhongli’s expression remains fond at the edges, worn down from the years of its harsh edges. )

I’ve been told drinking the next day helps. Have as much as you’d like.

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