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A kiss.
It was just a kiss.
Diluc furrowed his brow as he hooked his finger underneath Venti’s chin, staring down at the youthful visage of the bard, who seemed content to simply sit pretty and allow the bartender currently neglecting his duties to do as he pleased.
His movements were precise and deliberate. There could be not a single hair out of place in this shared moment. He had to make this perfect. It had to be a moment for the archon before him to remember for eternity.
Slowly, Diluc leaned forwards, and allowed their lips to connect.
How Diluc had been convinced to kiss Mondstadt’s resident drunken archon was a baffling mystery. Despite the fact that Venti was several thousand years his elder, the boy was an unbearably mischievous alcoholic with a penchant for annoying him in far more many ways than the former cavalry captain had ever thought possible.
Diluc had never entertained his antics before, but neither had he made any attempt to discourage him. Perhaps that was the fatal flaw which had truly led to this moment.
It certainly hadn’t been the first time he had endured Venti pleading for some sort of physical interaction, and certainly many of those times, it wasn’t even directed towards Diluc. However, the amount of times he had felt obligated to escort the drunk home from the Angel’s Share at the end of the evening only to be met with an incessant amount of drunken kisses upon whatever part of his body Venti had access to was… frankly, far too frequent to be considered normal.
But he’s an archon , Diluc had assured himself time and time again. Of course the God of Freedom wouldn’t comprehend a mortal’s desire for personal space. Plus, said archon had always been drinking like a fish, and Diluc had seen far worse behavior from far better people more than once. Such was the curse of working in the industry of liquor.
“Nobody’s ever kissed me.” Venti had lamented in a drunken slur late one evening, his face half buried in his arms as he practically lay upon the counter top. Diluc had long since stopped counting just how many drinks Venti would take in a particular evening, but he could easily guess the number was abnormally high, even for the bard.
“I find that hard to believe.” Diluc retorted in a bland tone, a single brow raised skeptically as he continued about his idle duties, cleaning up in preparation for closing. He most certainly wasn’t convinced. In fact, he had been witness to several kisses between the bard and numerous other patrons. Harmless and often entirely platonic kisses, pecks on the cheek or on the lips for those of a more bold nature, often given as gratitude for a wonderful evening of Venti’s seductive lilt and enchanting birdsong voice. Venti, of course, never denied them. Diluc was half convinced the bard treated them like some sort of currency. Or, the darker part of him considered, unknowing prayer for their nation’s deity.
“Well yeah, I’ve been kissed. But never kissed .” Venti broke Diluc from his thoughts, placing emphasis on the last word as if he wasn’t just repeating himself.
In response, Diluc merely offered a silent, pointed stare, prompting further elaboration.
Now, Venti was obviously a bard by trade, and even in the depths of his wildest drunken stupor, the damnable archon had a true way with words, slurred as they may be.
“A kiss is the truest form of an expression of love, unquestioning and undemanding. Not even an exchange between god and mortal can boast such a thing.” Venti bemoaned. “For even then, there is worship, reverent or underhanded. Of expectation or demand.”
Venti’s words rattled around in his head for days after he spoke them, but he would never give the archon the satisfaction of admitting as much. Why the hell had Venti even brought something like that up? Why the hell was Diluc even entertaining the thought in the slightest?
Sure, the boy was cute. Beautiful, even. But never had Diluc been gripped by the possessive desire to take Venti and make him his own. Far too many times had the bard been viewed in such a manner by other patrons, and Diluc had only ever felt immense disgust at the thought, even as an outside observer. Venti certainly didn’t seem to mind the attention, so why was it his business to care? He was desirable, obviously, but Diluc’s own appreciation only went so far as to acknowledge his youthful charm, his gorgeous voice, and his exquisite way with words…
Archons , he was in over his head.
Before Venti had his claws dug into the Angel’s Share as it’s resident bard, Diluc could have went through his entire life without wanting to so much as touch another person. He wasn’t starved for physical affection like Kaeya, nor did he share the wistful daydreams that Jean occasionally lamented about when she indulged more than she should have. Diluc simply didn’t care. That was, until him.
Diluc would rather tear his own eyes out than admit to himself that he actually enjoyed how Venti clung to him, how the bard let his hands wander with unashamed curiosity, how he could imagine his sloppy drunken kisses even hours after he had returned to his own home once Venti had been safely escorted to his.
It was a few weeks later when Diluc finally prompted further elaboration of the topic that had been eating away at his sanity since Venti had first presented it. “What do you mean when you say you’ve never been kissed?” He asked, leaning his elbows upon the counter. The bard would be given his full, undivided attention.
He could have sworn Venti almost looked surprised. It was good that he had caught the boy before the alcohol had taken a firm hold. At least in his current state of sobriety, Diluc had a shot at getting a coherent answer.
“W-well, y’know..” The bard started, “Every kiss I’ve ever exchanged has been exactly that: an exchange. Give and take.” Venti lifted one of his hands upwards, scratching behind his ear. He looked introspective, thoughtful.
Diluc tilted his head to the side. “And so what, you want something that doesn’t have strings attached?”
A nod was given towards him in response. Venti sipped at his glass of wine wordlessly.
Diluc gave a wry smile in response. “That doesn’t make sense, then. If it’s something you want, then the other party is still giving —” His sentence was cut short as a fist cracked down on the top of his head.
He grimaced slightly, placing his hand upon the freshly inflicted sore spot at the crown of his head, crimson eyes looking towards Venti accusingly. Of course, the archon was the embodiment of angelic innocence, smiling contendedly despite having swatted at Diluc’s head moments prior.
“Logic plays no part in the whims of the heart.” Venti replied with his everpresent lilt, each word drifting from his tongue like birdsong. His bright cerulean eyes studied Diluc momentarily, and allowed the redhead to ruminate in silence.
Diluc’s brow furrowed upon the realization that Venti was a walking contradiction. A contrarian to his own wants and desires. Leave it to a god to desire the unachievable, to live an immortal life striving for something that could never truly be reached.
“Mm.” The redhead replied noncommittally, automatically refilling the bard’s glass of wine when it had been emptied. Silently, he was grateful that Venti did not pry for answers of his own, for in truth, Diluc did not know them himself.
He couldn’t stop thinking about giving Venti what nobody else had.
With a deep breath, Diluc pushed back the part of his mind that was far too eager to warn him about the numerous different ways in which his next few actions could fall flat, or worse, fail horrifically.
“Learn forwards.” The demand came across as firm. Venti, obidiently, did as was asked, moving to rest his elbows upon the countertop. The curiosity that sparked in those wondrous eyes had Diluc’s breath catching in his throat.
Purposefully, he lifted his hand, and hooked his finger underneath the bard’s chin, tilting his head gently upwards. Crimson met cerulean in a silent request for permission, which Venti granted with the upwards turn of his lips.
As much as Diluc savored the sight of the archon leaning into his touch, he was urged to continue onwards. His eyes flickered shut as he closed the distance between them.
It was a clumsy thing, the way their lips first met. Diluc had been off his mark just slightly, but made up for it by gently dragging his teeth against Venti’s soft pout, a move that elicited a soft gasp of surprise from the boy. His other hand was brought upwards, cradling the bard’s head in his hand, eagerly running pale fingers through dark teal locks of hair.
He cursed himself for failing to take into consideration the counter which stood as a barrier between them. He had underestimated the desire to close the distance even further between them, to allow their bodies to press flush against one another. But, perhaps it was for the best. The two were hardly alone in the Angel’s Share, a fact Diluc was shortly reminded of by the ripple of quiet murmurs in his ears.
And yet, assured of the way their lips matched one another, Diluc deepened the kiss, tilting his head to the side as he encouraged Venti’s tongue to taste his own. He had never thought heaven could taste so divine, the sweet aftertaste of his family’s wine shared between god and man. Diluc readily allowed himself to drown in that taste of paradise.
It was Venti who broke the kiss first, pulling backwards to take in a sharp, unsteady breath of air, staring at the redhead with half-lidded eyes. Diluc had never seen the god of Anemo so utterly breathless. It looked good on him. He took several grounding breaths of his own, before his mind finally chose to return to reality.
“What was that?” Venti asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.
“Exactly what you asked for.” Diluc replied, returning to his full height. With a mischievous glance, he glanced towards the bard before returning to his duties.