Work Text:
When Thoma is done with most of his tasks, he enjoys basking in the sun at the end of the day. The main house is as quiet as it can get, fitting well with the remnants of warmth relaxing his tense joints from his prior cleaning it up. It is but a moment of stillness before the servants commence preparing for dinner, rushing to assemble ingredients and plates, cushions and covers, tending to their Lord and Lady’s needs after a long day of work.
With the inclusion of a new guest, however, there is now another layer of preparedness. Mister Zhongli is exceptionally attentive to each and every detail, he has questions ready about the display of the dishes, the way how a particular plate was assembled, the differences between Inazuma and Liyue’s delicacies, the story behind a painting or an eye-catching decoration.
Thoma has often been on the receiving end of those questions, mainly from the excursion from Ritou to the Kamisato Estate. Though he prides himself on being as knowledgeable as one can, for helping as many people as Thoma had allowed him to acquire a considerable amount of skills, he has failed to anticipate how boundless Mister Zhongli’s curiosity was. More often than not, Thoma has found himself unable to come up with an answer to Mister Zhongli’s question, staring wordlessly as a pair of patient, curious and unfairly bright golden eyes stared back.
But then, the perks of being Inazuma’s most reliable fixer is that he’s known for most parts of the land. Which means, when Thoma didn’t know the answer for an over-specific question, he managed to find someone who did. Which meant he and Mister Zhongli spent quite a long time traveling together, from the streets of Ritou to the ways and cliffs at Chinju Forest, from the vendor’s tents at Amanake Island to each alley and store in Inazuma City. If he weren't bound by his work at the Kamisato Estate, Thoma could guess Mister Zhongli would bring him to other islands as well.
Which… to be perfectly honest, Thoma wouldn’t mind.
He also had questions of his own on their time together, and it shouldn’t have been surprising how thoroughly Mister Zhongli (“Just Zhongli is fine, haven’t we spent our time together enough to be on first basis by now?”) answered them. A consultant from Liyue’s Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, forced to take on vacation by his boss (“She’s a handful, Director Hu, but she has her heart mostly in the right places. You share a Vision, so I suppose you do have a fierce heart as well?”), and, if there is time to spare, do a visit to an old friend (“We haven’t seen each other in… a long time. Though this is a story for another time. Tell me again about Miss Guuji Yae from Grand Narukami Shrine?”). In between this game of inquiry and response, general curiosity gave way for a more personal kind of curiosity, and soon Thoma caught himself wondering about another genre of facts.
For example, if Zhongli’s lips would taste as bitter as the tea he was slowly sipping at the time. Or if his eyes wound glint as much they did when he looked at an Inazuman antique as when his gaze longed at Thoma. Or if his hands were warm under the gloves, if they were the same size as Thoma’s, if they’d fit well enough if Thoma interlaced their fingers instead of their arms as they strolled through the city streets.
Thoma shakes his head as he hears steps coming in his direction. It isn’t the time to be thinking of an esteemed guest like this — at least not in the open. The space he was in wasn’t technically a hiding spot, though Thoma liked this section of the backyard specifically because it was reserved enough to be devoid of anyone at this time of the day.
He barely has time to lift his head in the direction of the sound when a voice strikes the silence, deep and soundful.
“Through the deep woods, the slanting sunlight; Casts motley patterns on the jade-green mosses.” Thome knows this voice too well, the way its cadence is clear and paused, elongating each vowel so as to be comprehensible.
At his side, Zhongli stares down with an amused smile, a silent question on his arched eyebrow. Thoma takes a few rapid heartbeats to blink, regaining his posture as he scots to the side, making room for Zhongli to sit.
It isn’t the time, but Thoma can’t help but take in the last strings of sun catching the pair of hazel eyes — no, a shade brighter than that, a little more on the yellow, the color of Mora when it drops to the ground, the color of sand when the Sun rises from its daily bath in the ocean. Thoma mimics a heavy breath, trying to remember how to inhale, to bring oxygen to his lungs when his whole body seems to have become paralyzed.
Then, Zhongli nods at him, and Thoma finds himself opening a smile, the relaxation of the past few minutes nothing like the easiness that overcomes his body and mind. His well-earned break could very well have started at this very moment, when blue meets orange in the sky, when Zhongli’s pinky finger meets Thoma’s hand on the wooden floor.
“Have you enjoyed your day so far?” Thoma asks. This isn’t the doubt he wishes to quell, but Zhongli perks up, eyes glistening as if they’re little carved out pieces of sun. Thoma could stare at them all day long, he doesn’t even realize he’s being pulled into their orbit until Zhongli’s lips curve upwards, closer than they were when he sat down.
Thoma allows himself to be daring, so he doesn’t back up.
“Miss Kamisato cleared her afternoon to take me on a stroll on Hanamizaka. I believe she has a friend there.”
“Yoimiya?” Thoma tilted his head to the side. He could see how Zhongli’s smile turned into a smirk when he caught the small envy on his voice.
“Yes, the lovely maiden from Naganohara Fireworks.” Thoma tries not to purse his lips at “lovely”, he knows a tease when he hears one. “She offered a great explanation on the mechanics of firework production. I must say I’m impressed by her skill at such a young age.”
“Yoimiya is amazing like that”, Thoma murmurs. He knows the drill, they’ve done it so many times before: he’d ask how Zhongli’s day was, and Zhongli would carefully pretend he doesn’t notice Thoma staring as his lips form vowels and consonants, each sound more delightful than the other when it is Mister Zhongli who is talking to him.
Today, however, Zhongli only hums in agreement. He offers nothing more, and Thoma doesn’t quite understand what caused the shift, though perhaps he had been a little too on the nose with all the stolen glances and loud heartbeats.
Thoma holds his gaze, an inquiry forming on his lips before being swallowed by nervousness and hesitance. Zhongli blinks once, slowly, deliberate, long eyelashes making shadows on his face as the last sunshine falls down on his. Beautiful, Thoma would say, but what his tongue chooses to voice is somewhat different.
“Mister—”
“Zhongli.”
Oh, right. Thoma could do that. The weight of their shared stare is starting to become suffocating under the veil of the upcoming evening.
“Zhongli”, Thoma utters, as if his name is a secret, a plea or a prayer, depending on how he chooses to listen, “I really want to kiss you right now.”
Zhongli’s smile is small and all-too-knowing. Thoma bites back an apology for his boldness, he doesn’t need doubts when his intentions are now laid bare.
“Do as you may, Thoma.” Zhongli has a way of pronouncing that barely sounds like words, it’s like the sounds are coming from all around, as if the earth itself is speaking, dark and dense, such a pleasure to hear, even more to obey.
Thoma slowly leans into the space between them, counting each heartbeat until the cold tip of his nose touches Zhongli’s, whose smile widens at the feeling. Thoma himself lets out a chuckle, closing his eyes to appreciate the closeness, the way Zhongli’s body feels as warm as his own, to let himself be embraced by the gentle heat before finally ceasing the distance.
A second goes by, or perhaps five beats of his rabbit-paced heart — Thoma should really stop measuring time if his perception is that skewed by anxiousness. He opens his eyes to a pair of — yellow, golden, ember, hazel, molten — eyes, watching carefully, almost shyly if one hasn’t spent a long time delving into how they convey emotions Thoma didn’t even know had a name yet. No, Thoma knows what this one is, so he presses closer, takes Zhongli’s hands into his, nips playfully at his lower lip to incite a reaction, to show him how much he had wished this very moment to occur.
Thoma tastes tea and smoke from Zhongli’s lips, makes a feast out of his mouth like he can’t get enough, his body boneless as Zhongli presses a hand on his lower back and another on his waist, nothing matters more than the touch of his lips, warm and certain and there. He enjoys the feeling of Zhongli bending to kiss him more, taking and taking until Thoma hisses of pain, a never-ending and never-tiring pace that has Thoma willing to give past the point of breaking skin.
There’s a hungry look on Zhongli’s eyes when he finally — way too soon, Thoma thinks, still drunk from his kisses, head dizzy and afloat and so, so good — leans back, hands still on Thoma’s side. It vanishes as soon as Thoma blinks, though the burning ache on his lips is more than enough for Thoma to know it was there.
“Are all your kisses… that intense?” Thoma wishes to tease, but he sounds way too breathless for that. Plan B, he tugs his — they are aching, dammit — lips upwards in a playful smile, managing to keep it up for two seconds before wincing from the strain. Thoma can’t imagine how he must look right now, though from the look Zhongli is giving him, he mustn’t be that bad.
“Do you want them to be?” Zhongli’s voice is low, and again, Thoma feels it is coming not just from his mouth, but from above, from underneath, as if his being is scattered, enveloping him. Thoma doesn’t know if it is creepy or hot, so he doesn't think at all.
“It felt like you were going to eat me.” Not his most eloquent, but Thoma finds it difficult to talk when he’s being pierced by those eyes, when all he wants is to shut his words and kiss Zhongli again, all fierceness and strength.
“I could”, Zhongli says deliberately slowly, only a tone louder than a whisper, “devour you.” That part is lower, deeper, and Thoma catches himself before his thoughts decide to collectively focus on that.
Hot, then. Just — not right now, the day isn’t over yet.
“Save that for after dinner.” He blinks, not even trying to hide the excitement in his voice. Focus.
“I will." Zhongli doesn’t blink back, but there’s playfulness in his eyes, just enough for Thoma to risk stealing a kiss. A kiss that evolved a bit too quickly, a tongue caressing his upper lip and teeth way too sharp threatening to draw blood from his mouth.
Thoma has to muster an energy he doesn’t want to spend to break from his embrace, breathless and flustered, ignoring the prideful smirk on Zhongli’s lips, one that he’d love to bite back if it were just a couple of hours later.
“See you at dinner, then.” He rushes to get up, to run towards the kitchen where there’s work to be done before he gets distracted doing something else. Or someone else.
Thoma glances back when he deems himself far enough to be safe, catching Zhongli looking at him with such raw intent that another kind of warmth runs through him. Nope, not now, not now. It isn’t until two corridors later when Thoma slows down, lungs finally catching up on his need to breath. He glances at the mirror, meaning to fix his appearance before showing up at the kitchen, but what he sees has him halting to a full stop.
O Great Goddess of Thunder, seated in the Plane of Euthymia.
Please make it so his Lord doesn’t notice how utterly red and swollen Thoma’s lips are.