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There are plenty of positives to living in the countryside of Mondstadt. Privacy is one, the wide open spaces another, and you can’t help but think this is what Barbatos meant when he preached the virtues of freedom.
The few downsides consist of the trek into the city to restock supplies that can’t be created by your own hands, the occasional hilichurl that wanders too close, and Diluc Ragnvindr’s griping when he shows up about how he wishes you’d just move closer to the city so he can keep you safe.
Diluc shows up more often than you think is probably acceptable. He’s a busy man, between the Angel’s Share and Dawn Winery. Not to mention the things you know he gets up to at night, even if he skirts around the subject when you try to bring it up. You’re not stupid, but you let it go all the same.
From the time he was a child, Diluc has always been such a worrier . He hides it better these days, coming up with a thousand excuses as to why you perhaps have a little more provisions snuck into your cart on your way out of the city, or why a commissioned builder showed up with a cart of supplies and instructions to repair the fences on your property.
Despite his worrying, you worry too.
There are times when he shows up where he looks worse for the wear. Dark circles beneath his eyes, his shoulders rigid in an attempt to hide how he desperately wants to slump under the weight of what he carries silently, a bruise blooming along his cheek or up his shoulder that couldn’t have come from anything but a blunt object slamming into him.
If you’re a little softer with him on these days, a little more insistent that he stay a little longer and sit by your hearth while you force him to eat something, neither of you mention it out loud. You just know, you just understand, that Diluc’s visit isn’t just due to an obligation as a lifelong friend to ensure your wellbeing. Maybe for a little while, he’d like to be worried over and cared for, just a little.
So, when he pushes the door of your home open without knocking and leans heavily on the door frame, you understand that this visit is for his sake entirely, not just your own.
Abandoning the ladle in the pot of soup you plan to eat off of for the next few days, you cross the room to slide an arm around his shoulders and encourage him to let you bear some of the weight of his exhausted bones. The questions don’t come until you’ve sat him on the bed of your single-room home, your fingers working at the buttons of his thick, fur-lined coat.
“Are you going to tell me what happened to you, or are you going to leave me to guess again?”
Diluc lets out a breath, one that could be amusement if you weren’t looking at his face to see the way his brows pinch together in frustration. Not at you, per se, just in general. That’s a clear denial of him telling you about it, and you can’t help but note that it’s inherently selfish of him to come to your home and silently ask for your care without providing you the reason it’s needed.
Or, maybe there’s just no reason for it at all. Diluc presses a gloved palm to his forehead as you take his coat to hang up near the door, and finally gives you some sort of answer. “There’s nothing to guess at. I just wanted to see you, that’s all.”
“Well, stay and look as long as you like, then.” The smile you give him over your shoulder is filled with all the happiness you can muster when he’s sitting in your home looking positively wilted like this. It’s nice to have him here, to know he’s within arm’s reach where you can force him to just stop for a little while.
As long as he’s under your roof, you can coerce him to be a little less hard on himself.
“Get your boots off and you can lay down until dinner is ready.” You tell him, wandering over to the kitchen where you keep the drinking water, pouring a cup for him without asking if he’d like it. You’ve learned quickly over the years that if you ask to take care of him, he’ll stubbornly say no - you just have to do it.
The bed creaks with the shifting of his weight. He doesn’t lay down, but he does shift so he can sit back against the rough wooden headboard and let his eyes slip closed when he thinks you’re not looking. Your first step toward him brings him back to life, but he doesn’t look any more spritely as you grow closer and hold the cup out to him.
“Are you injured?”
A single sound of laughter leaves him, echoing against the water in the cup as he takes a drink, amplifying the sound. When he lowers it back to his lap, his answer is rather cryptic. “Not physically, at least. I’ll be fine, I just… needed some time away.”
From everything , you assume, but he doesn’t elaborate. Turning back to the soup pot on the hearth, you stir it a few more times before testing the tenderness of the ingredients and deciding it’s done enough for the two of you to eat now.
Doling out a bowl for him, making sure he gets more potatoes than any other vegetable as per his preference, you ask tentatively, “Will you stay the evening?”
“And more, if you’ll have me.” Diluc accepts it, and neither of you note the way his hands tremble under the weight. What has he been doing that has him so exhausted, you wonder. Weinleisefest is coming soon, that might be it, you suppose.
The bed grumbles in protest as you sit on the edge of it near him, picking through your own meal in comfortable silence. The sun bleeds in through the window in deep golds, hanging low enough that the crickets start to chirp. With the windows open to allow a breeze through, a single firefly meanders into the room, blinking lazily as your eyes follow it.
You’re distracted enough that you don’t notice Diluc setting his bowl to the side, and barely register him taking yours as well to stack them neatly on the small table within arm’s reach of the bed. Only when he sits back again does his tongue dart out to wet his lips and his breath shake with uncharacteristic nerves as he murmurs, “Can I make a selfish request of you?”
“Is it really so selfish if you go out of your way alarmingly often to take care of me when you don’t have to?” You answer back, shifting to face him, one leg hanging off the bed as your other thigh presses against the length of his own. He’s warm beneath the fabric barriers separating you. He always has been, especially after receiving his vision.
Diluc’s lips quirk up at your response, taking it for the positive affirmation that it so obviously is. “Let me linger for a while. Being with you is…” He trails off, jaw working as he tries to find the right word. You’re patient enough, letting him sort through his thoughts that seem awfully muddled.
A few heartbeats pass, ones that you can feel in your fingertips, as you reach for his hands and begin carefully removing his gloves. When the two articles are put to the side, his hands reach out for one of your own, holding it securely within warm palms that hold calluses that seem out of place on his put-together figure. Remnants of his activities after dark that he refuses to acknowledge.
“Being with you is my only reprieve.”
“From…?”
Diluc squeezes your fingers, the red of his eyes glowing in the light of the setting sun that continues to encroach from the window above the bed. “Everything. Give me a few days of peace in your arms - I need it. I’m… ragged, worn… exhausted . After that, I can face the world.”
“In my arms, hm?” You shift closer, enough that you could pull him to you if you wanted - but not yet. Instead, you savor his hands squeezing yours before you remark, “You’re right, that is rather selfish. For me, that is. Of all the gifts you’ve given me, I think that would be my favorite.”
“You would see my presence as a gift, not a burden?”
Diluc’s chin is soft as you lean in and curl your fingers around it, your thumb brushing against the sensitive skin there. “I always have, Diluc. You’re more precious to me than anything you’ve given to me over the years.”
The only burden is my need to hide my feelings , you want to say, but the words die on your tongue. Diluc’s eyes flutter shut, head tilting to press his chin further toward your touch, and you cave fully to give him what he’s asked for. Climbing into his lap, you use your arms around his torso to tug him close until his nose buries in your neck and he greedily inhales for a moment.
Instantly, he relaxes against you, his hands at the small of your back pressing flat against your skin, dipping beneath your shirt without any unnecessary warning. This is fine, this is enough . You would be happy if this is all he deigned to ask from you, despite a willingness to keep giving and giving.
The thick locks of his hair twine easily around your fingers as you tug the tie loose. Against your collarbone, his voice rumbles in a sound of appreciation, something you’ve never quite heard before but it’s instantly addictive. Straddling his lap, you pull the two of you closer and rake your nails along his scalp until that little groan rises from beneath his breath into something unmistakable.
As unmistakable as the pressure against your inner thigh, the feeling of his heartbeat throbbing through it as you press yourself harder against it and rock your hips forward. The fingers tracing along the skin of your lower back freeze, then dig into your skin in response to your movements. It’s neither an attempt to stop you, nor urge you on, but a silent acceptance of it.
Diluc could stop you, but dampness collects on your skin as he breathes against your neck and simply waits for what you’ll do next.
One hand slips easily from his hair as you trail it over his shoulder, down his chest, to the flat plane of his stomach that twitches instinctively. Against his ear, you murmur, “Let me take care of you, then.”
“ Please .”
Diluc’s hips lift, his hands leaving your body to work at the belts around his waist. Then, the button holding his pants closed so he can push the fabric down enough to free himself. Rather than take him in hand, you back off to kneel between his thighs and observe the way his hand wraps around the base and all but presents it to you.
The word ‘pretty’ is an apt descriptor for him, even in this way, where he’s hard and impatient and looking at you through his lashes with unmistakable longing. Diluc is the kind of man that deserves the adoration you want to give him, even if he only truly accepts it in moments like this where he’s desperate for it.
Reaching out, you trace your fingertips from the base where he holds himself to the tip where his arousal already beads in anticipation. Rather than smear it with your thumb, you look at him through your lashes and lean in to sweep it up with the very tip of your tongue, savoring the taste of his need for you.
Immediately, his hips jolt in reaction to the phantom sensation of your tongue along his tip. His free hand tangles in the sheets next to his hip, the tendons of his arms straining as he so obviously avoids reaching out to make you move faster, to do more . This is you taking care of him in your own way, he’s well aware he’s meant to just accept it.
Slowly, you begin your exploration of him, first letting him feel the full pressure of your tongue swirling against his tip before you let him past your lips. A ragged breath leaves him, his head lolling back against the headboard, but his eyes never leave you, as if he were afraid to miss even a single moment. Beneath your hand on his thigh, his muscles twitch with each slow bob of your head.
“...That’s it… You’re so - ngh -... beautiful. Please…”
Diluc has never been one to ramble or mince words, but his control is slipping with each drag of your tongue and squeeze of your fingers around the length you can’t take. Pride swells in you as he struggles to keep his composure and fails as his hips jerk up against your mouth. The taste of him blooms on your tongue as you lick long the ridge of his cock, enjoying every little sound he treats you with.
The next sound he makes is disappointment as you pull away, your lips swollen and spit-slicked as you waste no time in working your pants down your hips. Even if you’re taking care of him, that doesn’t mean you can’t find physical enjoyment in this too. Surely he won’t complain, judging by the blown-out pupils of his eyes as he watches you straddle his lap once more.
Skin against skin, his cock juts up against you as you hover above him with little teasing rocks of your hips. Your palm sweeps his bangs off his forehead to press a kiss to his brow, a quiet sh-sh-sh noise leaving your lips as you poise him at your entrance.
No more teasing; you sink down onto him and watch with rapt attention as his brows furrow together, and his eyes clench shut. Another kiss, this time to his cheek, as you murmur, “Do I feel good?”
“Yes , you’re so-” Diluc cuts off, his breaths coming short as his hips struggle not to just buck up into you and chase his pleasure selfishly. If that’s what he wanted, you’d let him, but his self-imposed restriction makes heat burn through your gut. The desire, the respect for what you’re doing is far more arousing than anything else.
Giving him only a moment to feel how he fills you completely, you roll your hips forward to slide him through your slick tightness, agonizingly slowly. His eyes fly open, lips parted as he lets out a drawn-out groan. Diluc’s trying to hold him still, doing his best it seems, but all he needs to do is just reach out and take control. Yet he doesn’t, foregoing the role of leading to let you make him feel this incredible at his own pace.
Diluc stretches you so sweetly without even trying, like he was made to slot into you with perfection. Every moment drags his length against you in ways that have you trembling in his lap, and despite this being about your attempts to give him what he needs, his hands still find your thighs to press his thumbs in small, soothing circles.
He’s too good to you, too sweet, and you lean in to kiss him fully with all your appreciation. All your love . If he hasn’t made sense of it before this point, surely the way you cling to him and ride his cock while murmuring praises in his ear should be enough to convince him of your endless affections.
Blindly, you reach for his hands on your hips to twist your fingers together and brace yourself to move a little faster, a little harder. Adoration tinges his gaze as he looks at you, his knuckles growing white at the sensation of you clenching around him. Tentatively, his hips rise to meet you as you abandon the back-and-forth motions to lift up and down, taking him to the hilt each time with increasing reckless abandon.
“I love- ah! I love you - please, please -”
Diluc’s desperation undoes you more than any physical feeling could. Clinging to his hands, your back arches and you grit out your pleasure through your teeth as he fucks up into you to chase his own, and to prolong yours.
“So much-” Diluc tenses beneath you, using the leverage of your hands laced against his on your hips to pull you down tight. You can feel each throb of his release inside you, his hands grinding you as he moans your name openly and without shame.
Shaking off one of your hands, he thumbs against your clit for only a moment before you bat his hand away with a hiss. His first attempt to take back the role of caring for you after all of this, but you don’t want that - not while you’re sensitive, not while he asked to find solace in you, not give it.
The low rumble of his chuckle rolls through the room as he pulls you to him, your cheek against his sternum as he squeezes lazily against your curves. Diluc doesn’t stay hard inside you, but neither of you pull away so he can keep you within easy reach.
Lifting your head, you struggle to find words before realizing there’s no point in needlessly filling the silence. Surely he knows what it is that you want to say, and the way he gazes at you now speaks volumes of his own appreciation, his own affection only spoken aloud in a moment of desire just seconds before.
Diluc simply leans down for a kiss - slow, weighted, more descriptive than any flowery or eloquent words either of you could’ve come up with. Diluc can find as much peace as he’d like here; you hold it in abundance, solely for him.