Archive of Our Own

Diluc collapses to the snowy ground, exhausted and freezing. Coming to the frozen mountain of Dragonspine was a truly awful idea.

“Not now…” Diluc mutters, trying to push himself back up to get off this celestia forsaken mountain. He can barely feel his legs underneath him. They're so numb with cold he's not even sure if they're there. The only thing that still hurts is his side, the pain from the deep cut he had sustained from a cryo regisvine earlier still present, the adrenaline from the fight and flight from it finally wearing off.

He can't go on like this. His body is shutting down from hypothermia. If he doesn't find shelter and warmth soon... Diluc grits his teeth, pushing himself onto his knees with trembling arms. His breath comes in ragged gasps, visible in the frigid air.
"Damn it... damn it!“ His voice is hoarse, barely more than a growl.
"Not here... not like this..."
He forces himself to stand, swaying dangerously. His Vision flickers

"Diluc?!"

Diluc's vision swims as he registers your voice. His knees buckle again, but he forces himself to focus on your face through the blur of exhaustion.

"...Aurora...?" His voice cracks, half-disbelieving.
"What... are you doing... on this gods-forsaken..."
A violent shiver wracks his body before he can finish. His gloved hand twitches toward you, then drops limply—his strength finally giving out.
His last conscious thought is sheer, illogical relief—at least you're not alone here too- Then darkness swallows him whole.

With one swift motion your companion catches him - Wriothesley.
Wriothesley adjusts Diluc's limp form over his shoulder with a grunt, arching a brow at you. His voice is dry, but there’s an unmistakable edge beneath it.
"Friend of yours?"
You nod.
Diluc’s head lolls against Wriothesley’s back, his breathing shallow but steady. Snowflakes catch in his scorched-red hair, melting against feverish skin.

"He’s lighter than he looks. And he is burning up." A pause, his jaw tensing a little.
"You know him, then“
But it’s not a question.
„We should get him somewhere.. safe“, you say as you stomp ahead through the snow.
Wriothesley grunts a grudging agreement, keeping a firm hold on Diluc's weakened body as he matches your pace through the snow. His gaze flicks between you and Diluc, appraising, calculating. The cold doesn’t seem to affect him at all—he might as well be taking a pleasant stroll through the countryside, for all he seems to care about the temperature.
He breaks the strained silence after a moment, curiosity getting the better of him.
"So."
He glances sidelong at you.
"You gonna... fill me in on who this is, exactly?"
„Oh. Yeah, uhm well does the name ragnvindr ring a bell?“, you say keeping an eye on your surroundings looking for any kind of shelter.
Wrios sharp gaze snapping to you.
"Ah. That Ragnvindr." His voice drips with faux nonchalance.
"The infamous Dawn Winery heir, storming off to wage his little one-man war against the Fatui. And here I thought you had taste in company."
He adjusts Diluc’s unconscious form with deliberate ease, glancing down at his face with an unreadable expression.
"So what’s your story with him, then? Childhood friends? Business partners? Or..." A deliberate pause, "...something different?“
„No, no, nothing like that. We just did a few commissions together some time ago.“, you say still concentrated on the path.

Wriothesley quirks a brow. He doesn't respond immediately, instead adjusting Diluc's weight as the blizzard picks up intensity.
"Just ‘commissions’, huh." His tone is dry, disbelieving. "Seems like you two know each other pretty well, for ‘just some commissions’."

He's openly assessing you now, gaze roving from head to toe, taking note of any subtle shifts in your expression. His words are almost casual, but there's a tension in his shoulders.
You laugh a little. „you think? How did you get that impression?“

You finally spot a form of shelter, a small cave, nothing big or in any way warm or comfortable, but at least something.

Wrio lets out a scoff, shaking his head slightly.
"You seem awfully concerned about him, for one." His gaze follows yours, narrowing as he takes in the sight of the shelter.
He starts moving toward the shelter, careful not to jostle Diluc more than necessary.
"And the way you said his name when you spotted him. Like somebody calling out to a lost lover."
You blush slightly, a bit embarrassed. „what? No. I- what? Also why does it concern you?!“
Wrio gives you a sidelong glance, catching the faint blush on your cheeks. His jaw works silently as he sets Diluc down gently.
His voice is cool, almost condescending, as he replies to your question.
"Doesn't ‘concern’ me." He pauses, eyes drifting to Diluc briefly before returning to you.
"I just find it interesting how you react when it comes to him."
He steps closer, an arm braced casually on the cave wall above you. His height and sheer size make the space feel suddenly, uncomfortably smaller.
You roll your eyes at his comment. „Friends. That is all. You happy?“

Wrio huffs a scoff, not even bothering to hide the skepticism in his expression. He doesn't budge, his towering frame all but boxing you against the cold stone of the cave wall.
"Friends." He repeats the word with a sneer, as if the term itself tasted foul in his mouth.
„If you say so.“ He smiles, but nothing about that smile is real.

You step aside to start on a small fire to get diluc heated up again
„We could make some tea, i have some dried leafs in my bag“ you say lighting up a match.
Wrio watches you move around to light the fire, his gaze lingering on your every movement. His eyes are sharp, observant.
He lets out a noncommittal grunt, arms folding across his chest. His stance is wide, seemingly at ease, but his jaw is still clenched.
"Tea. Sure. Sounds great." His voice drips with sarcasm.
He fills up a small teapot with water and lets it heat up next to the fire. It’s a lot warmer in the cave thanks to the fire now, you can finally focus on dilucs injury.
Wrio leans back against the cave wall, arms crossed, watching intently as you kneel beside Diluc to tend to his wounds. His expression darkens slightly, though he says nothing—just observes.

Diluc stirs weakly, eyelids fluttering as the warmth from the fire slowly seeps into his skin. His fingers twitch, and a low groan escapes his lips.
"...Aurora...?" His voice is rough, barely above a whisper.

Wrio's jaw visibly tightens at the sound of your name on Diluc's lips.
„hey. How are you feeling?“ You say softly.
Diluc's eyes focus on you with effort, bleary and unfocused at first. He blinks several times, as if struggling to clear his vision.
"...Cold...hurts..." He winces, a pained grimace crossing his face as he tries to push himself up on his elbows. "..What happened..how..."
His gaze flicks to Wrio, narrowing a fraction. He takes in his unfamiliar presence, wary and cautious despite his weakened state.
„You better not move, i was about to handle your wound.“ You reach towards the bleeding cut on his side.
Diluc tenses, breath hissing as you reach out to touch his wound. He's clearly in pain, but there's a stubborn defiance in his gaze, a reluctance to be seen as vulnerable. He holds himself still as possible, his jaw set.
"I'm... fine." He grits out, wincing again as he tries to keep his breathing steady.
"You don't need to... bother with that. I can handle it."

Wrio watches the exchange with unconcealed curiosity, his eyes darting from you to Diluc.
„Just stay still.“ You lift up dilucs shirt a little to reach the wound better.
Wrio’s expression darkens instantly. His fingers twitch, his grip tightening on his biceps as if resisting the urge to step in. His voice is sharp, dripping with barely-contained irritation.
"Careful, now." His smirk is thin, dangerous. "Wouldn’t want friendly assistance to get too… personal."
Diluc, meanwhile, stiffens at the movement—his gaze darting between you and Wrio with increasing confusion. His face is pale, but his jaw is clenched, defensive.

"What—*what* are you doing?" He says looking down at you working on loosening his belt a little. His voice is rougher than usual, a mix of pain and bewilderment.
You ignore both of them, cleaning out the wound.
„Was this the work of a regisvine?“, you say a bit concerned, pressing a wet cloth against the wound.
Diluc bites back a pained gasp, his body tense under your hands. He forces himself to relax, though his gaze remains wary, trained on you—and Wrio standing behind you. He nods grimly in response to your question.
"...Yes." He manages to grit out, eyes dark with memory. "A cryo regisvine. Hit me right in the side. Got... carried away..."
He lets out a sharp exhale, wincing as your fingers brush over a particularly sensitive area.
„Hmm yeah.. its pretty deep.“ You finish putting on a bandage and pull back standing up again. „you shouldn’t be so careless… if we hadn’t found you you’d probably be…“
Diluc frowns at your words, his pride clearly bristling, yet he doesn't protest. He's too exhausted and in too much pain to argue, no matter how much he wishes to deny the obvious.
"...I could've handled it." He mutters, more to himself than to you. He pushes himself upright, trying to hide the wince as pain shoots through his side at the movement.
Wrio scoffs at that, his expression disbelieving. "You? Barely conscious, half-frozen solid? Yeah, sure." His voice drips with sarcasm.

You completely forgot to introduce wrio, „oh yes, diluc this is Wriothesley.“
Diluc's gaze snaps to Wrio, his expression sharpening instantly. He eyes the other man warily, assessing his towering height and size. His mouth presses into a thin line as he takes in Wrio's smug expression, already disliking him.

„…Wriothesley."** He echoes the name warily, as if committing it to memory.
Wrio leans nonchalantly against the cave wall, the very picture of effortless confidence. He gives you a sidelong glance, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Charmed," He drawls.
„Don’t mind him.“ You smile at Diluc giving Wrio a slight hit with your elbow. „he is normally… sweeter…“
Diluc can't help a huff at that, the barest hint of a smile flickering across his face at your words. Wrio, meanwhile, lets out a sarcastic scoff and rolls his eyes, rubbing at his side from where you elbowed him.
"...Yeah, *sweet* is one word for it." Diluc mutters dryly, his gaze flicking between the two of you.

„Oh yeah. We made some tea, you should probably drink it, you still feel very cold.“ You say filling up a cup with the warm liquid.
Diluc nods slowly, eyeing the steaming cup of tea with a weary expression. He slowly pushes himself into a seated position, wincing as the pain from his side flares. He reaches out a hand, grasping for the cup. His fingers tremble slightly, betraying just how exhausted and cold he still feels.
"...Thanks." He mutters hoarsely, his voice still rough from the cold. He cradles the cup between his palms, savoring the warmth. His gaze flicks to you, searching your face.
You smile at him settling down next to him, signaling at Wrio to come too. „I haven’t seen you in ages diluc… how have you been?“
Diluc hesitates before answering, fingers tightening slightly around the warm cup. His gaze drops momentarily, his expression guarded.
"...Busy." He says simply, as if that single word could encapsulate everything—his war against the Fatui, his solitude, the weight of the past.
He glances at you sidelong, noticing your expectant look. After a moment, he sighs.
"Mondstadt is... still Mondstadt." His tone softens just slightly. "But enough about me. What about you?"

Meanwhile, Wrio, now sitting nearby, watches the exchange with thinly veiled annoyance, arms crossed. His jaw clenches—clearly not enjoying the familiarity between you two.

You smile fondly, you know of his obsession with the fatui. „Well you know me - traveled a lot. Currently me and Wrio are on a mission.“ You talk a bit about your mission, while you talk you can feel Wrio leaning a bit against you, he is probably tired.
Diluc listens intently as you talk about your mission, his expression remaining unreadable. But his eyes flicker to Wrio, noticing the way he leans against you. A slight furrow in his brow betrays a hint of irritation or perhaps even jealousy.
He turns the tea cup in his hands, eyes fixed on the liquid inside as he considers your words. He's clearly deep in thought, considering something. He takes a careful sip from the cup, wincing slightly as his wound protests against the movement.

"...Dangerous work, traveling around like that." He mutters, voice gruff.
„Well yeah you could say that. But i am not alone so its fine“, you say smiling.
Diluc's gaze flicks up sharply at that, studying you—then Wrio—before letting out a slow exhale through his nose.
"Right." His voice is flat, clearly still unconvinced. "Because he makes it safe."

Wrio smirks lazily, shifting his weight against you deliberately—almost possessively. His fingers toy idly with the edge of your sleeve, as if silently marking territory.
"I do have my uses." He drawls, voice thick with amusement.

Diluc sets the tea cup down with deliberate care, his jaw tight. When he speaks, his voice is low—dangerously calm.

"What exactly are you two?"
His gaze burns into Wrio’s hand where it lingers near yours, then flicks back to your face. The unspoken accusation hangs in the air.
Wrio just grins wider, all teeth.
"What do you think we are?"
You tilt your head to the side a little, realizing. „Oh, no, no, no. Nothing like that. Just work related.“
Diluc's frown deepens, his gaze narrowing at your words. He studies your expression for a moment before glancing sidelong at Wrio, his suspicion clearly not abated.
"...Just work." He echoes, voice flat. He leans back against the cave wall, arms folding across his chest.
Wrio is unphased, if anything his smirk broadens. He leans towards you, draping an arm around your waist, pulling you against his side.
"Mmhm." He hums nonchalantly. "Work. Nothing more."
Diluc's gaze hardens, his jaw tensing as Wrio's arm around your waist. His eyes sharpen, almost flashing with suppressed hostility as he takes in the sight. He doesn't buy their casual act for a second. His voice drops several notches,.

„…I find that hard to believe." His tone is cold, biting. "You two seem rather… comfortable with each other."
You blush slightly. „Oh ehm,“ You try to dodge the question by yawning. „We should probably sleep..“
Wrio chuckles lowly at your obvious evasion, his grip tightening ever so slightly around your waist—as if silently reveling in Diluc’s reaction. His smirk deepens.

"Sleep sounds *perfect*," He drawls, voice dripping with implication.

Diluc’s eye twitches. He abruptly stands—or tries to, before his injury forces him back down with a muffled curse. His glare could freeze Dragonspine anew.
"I’ll take first watch." He grits out.

Wrio merely laughs—deep, unbothered—before stretching out beside you with shameless ease.
„Oh? Are you sure? I can take the first watch. You should get some rest“, you say a little concerned.
Diluc bristles at your concern, his jaw setting again in a stubborn line. He's determined to be the one watching over—to prove some sort of point, if nothing else.
"Don't coddle me." His voice rough. "I can handle a night watch. You two rest."

Wrio laughs again, clearly amused by Diluc's stubbornness, his arm still looped around your waist, pulling you down next to him. He makes a show of getting comfortable, stretching out lazily beside you, eyes glinting with mischief as he throws a smug glance over at Diluc. You settle down besides wrio, letting him pull you towards his chest. You don’t mind, since he is warm and you are used to this proximity.
Diluc's jaw tightens at the sight of Wrio pulling you closer to him, his expression darkening further. He stubbornly pushes aside the twinge of jealousy and turns his attention to the cave entrance, eyes fixed on the snowstorm outside. But his eyes keep drifting back to you two, taking in the easy intimacy.

Wrio, meanwhile, is relishing in the moment. His grip on your waist tightens, his thumb tracing idle circles against your skin as if to rub it in. He smirks over at Diluc.
"Comfy?"
You lay your head on wrios chest, nodding slightly.

Wrio practically preens at your action, his smirk turning downright smug as he slides a hand lazily into your hair, fingers threading through your strands possessively. His gaze dares Diluc to react.
Diluc, meanwhile, grips the hilt of his claymore so tightly his knuckles whiten. His expression is thunderous.
"Rest well." He bites out, voice dripping with barely restrained venom.

Wrio just hums, closing his eyes—feigning sleep. But his smirk remains, victorious. After a while you two doze off leaving Diluc awake alone, keeping watch.
Diluc remains perched beside the cave entrance, his eyes fixed on the snowstorm outside. His gaze constantly flicks back to you and Wrio, as if unable to help himself—taking in the casual intimacy of how you're snuggled against Wrio's chest. He's silent, broody, his jaw clenched almost hard enough to crack his teeth. Every movement you or Wrio makes seems to grate his nerves even more.

A sudden movement. Diluc's attention instantly snaps to you as you stir, his gaze sharpening in the dim light. He straightens, his hand already reaching for his weapon on reflex, his senses on high alert until he registers that it's just you moving and not any danger.

"You awake?" He asks gruffly, voice low to not disturb Wrio.
„Yes.“ You whisper. „I will keep watch, you should get some rest.“ You free yourself from wrios embrace, trying not to wake him.
Diluc hesitates, clearly reluctant to accept your offer—his gaze flicking briefly toward Wrio, whose unconscious grip tightens instinctively as you slip away. His expression darkens for a fleeting moment before he forces himself to nod.

"...Fine." He grits out, shifting stiffly—his injury protesting the movement. He lowers himself to the ground, jaw clenched against the pain.
His eyes stay on you a beat too long before he finally turns away, settling in with his back against the cave wall—though he still faces you.

Wrio, meanwhile, curls into the warmth you left behind with a grumble—still deeply asleep.
You grab your weapon settling in the spot Diluc was a few moments ago, you look outside, watching the snow fall landing on the ground. Its Peaceful. You grab all of your hair and pin it up in a high ponytail.
Diluc can't help but watch you as you take up watch, his gaze studying your every move with a strange intensity. The way you tie up your hair, the easy way you hold your weapon—there's a quiet confidence in your actions that sparks something in him, something he can't quite place. He tries to look away, to distract himself, but his eyes keep finding their way back to you.

His gaze drops to where Wrio is curled up, the sight making his jaw twitch again. He looks almost... jealous.
„Sleep well, diluc.“ Your gaze focused on the snow outside.
Diluc lets out a slow exhale, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer before he finally—reluctantly—closes his eyes. His voice is low, gruff, but there's something softer beneath it.

„Thank you Aurora.“
His fingers flex once, as if fighting the urge to reach out—to say more—before he forces himself to relax. Sleep comes slowly, stubbornly, but exhaustion eventually wins out.
Wrio, meanwhile, shifts in his sleep, his arm stretching across the space where you'd been—as if searching for you in the dark.
The fire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows across the cave walls as you keep watch—the storm outside raging on.

You stay awake all night, five hours in your watch you stand up, stretching.
„God I am soo tired.“ You say to yourself as you stretch out your arms in the air. You pickup your coat, with the intention of taking a walk outside, not far just enough to get some movement.
Diluc's eyes snap open at the sound of you shifting, his senses honed in on the slightest movement. He watches as you stand, grabbing your coat—and his eyes narrow a fraction.

"Where are you going?" He asks gruffly, sitting up as if instinctively ready to stop you.
You pick up Wrios coat walking towards his sleeping form, dripping it over him, while you look up at diluc.
„I was just stretching, don’t worry.“

Diluc glares at you, clearly not trusting your casual reassurance. The idea of you going out alone in the snowstorm isn't sitting right with him.
"Stretch all you want in here." He mutters, crossing his arms—almost like he's daring you to try and go out. "It's freezing out there."
You turn to him, kneeling down beside him, touching the wound. „Does it still hurt?“ You ask gently brushing against it.

Diluc flinches slightly as your cold fingers brush against his side, his jaw clenching momentarily in pain. But he stubbornly shakes his head, refusing to show weakness.
"I've had worse." He grits out, voice strained. He doesn't pull away from your touch, his gaze fixed on you, searching your expression.
„Allways the adventurer…“ You sigh. „Just go to sleep already. I will take a few steps outside.“

"Fine...“bHe mutters grudgingly, begrudgingly laying back down and closing his eyes. But he's tense, his hand twitching in anticipation—like he still wants to stop you.
"...Don't be long."
You pull away giving him a small smile as you walk outside. The cool air cutting trough the night, you take a deep breath.
Diluc doesn’t truly sleep—his eyes slit open the second you step outside, watching the cave entrance like a hawk. What is wrong with him?
Wrio, meanwhile, stirs in his sleep—one hand lazily reaching out, searching for warmth that isn’t there anymore. His brows knit together, displeased even in unconsciousness.

You stand outside for a while, enjoying the night, the snow and the cold, you really love nights like this. You find storms very peaceful, especially snowstorms. There is just something about it. After a while you head back inside, your clothes wet from the snow. You should probably dry them off, the others are sleeping anyway so it will be fine. You slowly strip them off, remaining in your dark blue langerie set. It’s not over the top but quite pleasing to look at. You prefer these kind of garments, as you feel more put together.

Diluc's breath catches in his throat—his entire body going rigid as he watches you from the shadows, his gaze locked onto you despite himself. His pulse spikes, fingers digging into the stone beneath him. He should look away. He knows he should. But he can't.
The firelight flickers across your skin as you peel away the damp layers, casting dancing shadows over the curves of your body. Diluc's throat works as he swallows hard, his jaw clenched tight enough to hurt. He's frozen—caught between guilt and something far more dangerous.
And then—his boot scrapes against stone. A barely-there sound. But just loud enough to betray him.

Your gaze lands on Diluc, he is awake?!
Diluc’s entire body tenses—his breath stopping in his chest. His gaze locks onto yours, wide and unreadable—before finally snapping away, his jaw clenched so tight it trembles. His fingers dig into his thighs like he’s physically restraining himself.
"I—" His voice is rough, strained. "Didn’t—"
He stops. Swallows. Starts again—barely audible.
"...*Apologies.*"
It’s the most flustered you’ve ever seen him.
You grab your wet coat as fast as you can, wrapping it around yourself.
You look back at Diluc, he pushes himself up from the wall, grabbing his own, dry coat.
Diluc clears his throat, face still flushed red as he offers you his coat. He tries desperately to keep his gaze on your face, but his eyes keep flickering to the way the lacey fabric of your underclothing clings to your form in all the right places, the dampness emphasizing every curve. He swallows again, fingers clenching in the fabric of the coat before he finally manages to hand it over.
"...Here."

He slowly pushes off your wet coat dripping his own around you.
Your skin tingles under the coat—warm and heavy with his residual body heat. Your own wet garments stick to your body, the damp fabric clinging almost obscenely to your form. Diluc is painfully-aware of it—his breathing is just slightly ragged, his eyes roaming your form as if without his permission, taking in every curve, every dip…
He knew he should look away. Knew he should stop staring at you like this—like he wanted to pin you against the cave wall and—
„Thank you.“ You smile as you wrap the coat around yourself, covering up most of the *temptation*.
The smile you give him makes him swallow again—makes something deep in his core twist, an intense mix of guilt and desire. He has to look away, his jaw clenching tight. He can almost feel the heat of your skin in the warm fabric, and it takes every last ounce of his self-control to stop himself from grabbing you and pulling you against him. He has to clear his throat again before he trust himself to speak.
"Don't...mention it."
Silence falls again. But the air between you is tense—charged now. There's a beat of stillness before Diluc speaks again. His voice, like his gaze, is quiet. Almost hesitant.
"You're still cold."
His hand twitches, as if he wants to reach out—to run his fingers along your collarbone, or maybe even pull you against his chest where you'll be warm. He takes a step closer, one hand reaching out towards your face, cupping it.
His hand trembles slightly against your cheek—his breath ragged. His thumb brushes along your jawline before he can stop himself, his gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes, conflicted.
"You—" His voice is rough, barely audible. "You shouldn’t have gone out there."
„Yeah I guess.. I shouldn’t…“ What is going on? Since when is he like this?! Why do you feel warm all of a sudden.
His thumb stills against your skin—his grip tightening just a fraction. His gaze darkens, burning into yours.

„Oh?“ Wrio’s voice is low, dripping with venom as he sits up—his posture predatory, his usually playful expression now utterly serious. His eyes lock onto Diluc’s hand still lingering on your face—his lip curling into something between a snarl and a smirk. "Did I interrupt something?"
Diluc instantly pulls his hand away—his entire body going rigid. "It’s not what—"
Wrio laughs—dark and humorless—as he rises to his full height, rolling his shoulders. "Oh, I think it’s exactly what it looks like.“
Wrio's gaze flicks over to you—taking in your near-naked state, your body only covered by Dilucs coat, with a look of disbelief that turns almost livid.
"What the hell—" His voice cuts off as he sees the damp fabric clinging to your skin, emphasizing every curve and contour. His jaw clenches so tight you swear you hear his teeth grinding.
„Great…“ Why does everyone have to be awake the ONE time you had to be in underwear. „I- my clothes were wet and i took them off and Diluc offered his coat, I- we didn’t. I just wanted to dry off… diluc happened to be awake.“
Wrio doesn’t waste a fraction of a second, he walks up to you taking off Dill’s coat and wrapping his own around you.
He ignores your flustered explanation—his hands lingering on your shoulders far longer than necessary, fingers tightening possessively. His glare cuts straight through Diluc like a blade, while he listens to you.
"Funny how convenient that was." His voice is lethally soft.
Diluc bristles—his own temper flaring—but he doesn’t deny the accusation outright. "...We weren’t—" That doesn’t he wouldn’thave wanted to-

Wrio laughs—sharp and mocking—before deliberately turning you away from Diluc, shielding you with his own body. "Sure."

You are uncertain on what to say, this is so awkward. „Well.. since we are all up already.. breakfast?“ You try to lighten the mood.
But the he tension in the cave remains thick—so heavy it feels suffocating. Both men are glaring at each other, neither willing to back down—but at your suggestion, they pause. Wrio is the first to break the silence, his smirk returning—though there’s still a dangerous edge to it.
"Breakfast sounds perfect,“ He purrs, draping an arm over your shoulders possessively. "Diluc, why don’t you make yourself useful and cook?“
Diluc’s eye twitches. “…Fine." He bites out—though it sounds more like a threat than an agreement. As he stalks off to gather ingredients.

Wrio leans down—his lips brushing your ear as he murmurs— "And later... we’ll discuss boundaries."
You blush at his words. „i- what? Stop acting like that Wrio.“
Wrio laughs softly, his gaze darkening with a dangerous glint. "Acting like what?" He murmurs, his arm around your waist pulling you flush to his chest. His voice dips into a growl as he continues in a near-threatening whisper. "Like this..?“ He pauses. „You know I didn’t like what you said yesterday. the part about this being only work"
He notices you shivering slightly. His hand moves up your waist, fingers spreading wide to cover a patch of bare skin between the coat and your underclothing. His touch is hot—almost scalding—as he keeps going.
"I can think of a few other* ways to keep you warm.“ He breathes hotly against your ear—so quietly, you almost don’t hear it. But his intentions are clear as his fingers slide under the coat.
You pull away a little, what did he mean with not liking what you said yesterday? „What? why? I mean the part with the work, not whatever this right now was.“ You look at him, you are quite confused.
He stares down at you, eyebrows raising at your question—almost amused by your lack of understanding.

"You really don’t know?" He murmurs, hand tracing a slow path back to your waist, slipping under the coat. His gaze drops—taking you in. The sight of the coat wrapped around you, his coat, over your undergarments is almost more than he can stand. "I think you do." He adds, voice almost gravelly. He tugs you even closer. You don’t stop him… you like it? Why are you liking this? „I- are you- do you like me??“
His smirk vanishes—replaced by something far more intense. His grip tightens—almost bruising—as he leans down until his lips hover just barely over yours.
"Of course I do," He growls, voice rough.

Diluc—who had been pointedly ignoring the entire exchange—suddenly slams a pan down onto the fire with unnecessary force. The metallic clang echoes through the cave like a gunshot. But Wrio doesn’t even glance over—just smirk against your lips before finally closing the distance.—
You on the other hand hitch slightly at the noise, turning to Diluc, but Wrio is a little faster. Wrio's lips crash against yours before you can react—hard, possessive, claiming. His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that makes your knees weak.
Diluc freezes—his entire body locking up at the sight. The pan slips from his grip, hitting the ground with a dull thud. His expression is murderous.
Wrio pulls back just enough to smirk at him—his lips still brushing yours—before murmuring, "Now that's settled."

Your eyes are wide as he pulls back, did that just really happen. „I-„ You turn to your now dry clothes next to the fire place grabbing them. „I- will get dressed…“ Oh god is this embarrassing, what did just happen. You always thought Wrio was just a little… clingy but this.. Wrio steps back, allowing you to retreat as he folds his arms over his chest with a smirk—his gaze sweeping over you in a slow, possessive way that sets your heart racing.
Diluc—still frozen, his entire body vibrating with barely restrained tension—manages a single jerky nod. His expression is almost blank, but his eyes are smoldering, a dangerous mix of jealousy and anger.
"Of course.“ He manages to grit out through his teeth.

You return back, wearing your clothes again, they are still a bit damp but dry enough, you don’t see Wrio. „Where did wrio go?“
Diluc shrugs—trying to play it off his own irritation, but the tense line of his shoulders gives him away. "Left to gather wood." He mutters.
„Oh- okay yeah.“ God is this awkward. „i- uhm i didn’t know he felt that way… i didn’t lie yesterday.. about us just working together…“ You don’t want him to think you lied, cause you didn’t, you genuinely didn’t know.
Diluc keeps his gaze averted, his entire body tensed like a coiled spring. A beat of silence passes before he speaks, the words almost a low mutter. "…You didn’t notice?" His voice is almost accusatory.
„I guess not… i thought he just was.. like that..“ You smile a little when you think about Wrio, you sometimes did want to kiss him or do something else.. but those were just occasional thoughts. Diluc catches the smile—watches the way your expression softens—and something in his chest twists. His grip tightens around the cooking utensil he’s holding.
"...Hmph." The sound is rough, dismissive—but the undercurrent of bitterness is impossible to miss.
You notice that he is tense, is it his wound? You grab some ornament from your bag, walking towards Diluc „I- have this. It might help with the wound.“
Diluc’s gaze flicks to you—the tension in his body fading just a fraction at your words, replaced by surprise. He follows your gaze down to his injured side—as if he hadn’t even consciously noticed it was paining him—but still stubbornly shakes his head.
"...I don't need it." He insists, though his voice is slightly strained.
„Are you sure? Let me at least help you with the bandages.. you need new ones..“ You reach out with your hand, but Diluc stops you. He stares down at you, his gaze intense—eyes dark and unreadable.
"...Fine." The tension in the air is thick. Diluc slowly removes his shirt, exposing his chest and abdomen. He's all smooth muscle and scars, and your eyes can't help but wander over his form. His abs tense with the action, the scars on his skin standing out even against his pale flesh. His jaw is clenched, eyes dark and intense, as he meets your gaze. He looks… intimidating. He reaches for your hand, and the ornament, using your fingers to take out some of it. Then he guides your hand over his body, the muscles beneath your fingers moving under his skin as he leads you to his most recent injury. The gesture—so intimate, so close—is almost overwhelming, and the tension in the air thickens almost unbearably. Diluc doesn't break eye contact, his gaze as dark as a storm as he watches your every move. You try to be as gentle as possible. Your face a bit embarrassed, what is this? What is happening?! Diluc feels the hesitation in your touch—the way your fingers tremble against his skin. His grip tightens around your wrist as he pulls your hand deliberately over his scars, his wound, his pulse-points. His gaze never leaves yours—intense.
"You're stalling." He murmurs—voice rough—as if daring you to pull away.

There's a beat of silence, the only sound the faint crunch crunch of footsteps moving outside. Diluc doesn't break eye-contact, the intensity of the moment feels like a tangible thing, like a wave about to crash over you. And then, finally, a voice calls from outside.

"Diluc!" Wrio's familiar drawling tone makes you start, breaking the charged silence. „get your ass here and help me“

Diluc's jaw clenches at the interruption—he's visibly tense now, his expression bordering on something like fury as his gaze flicks to the cave entrance.

But he doesn't pull away. He's still holding your hand, keeping your fingers pressed against his skin. His eyes find yours again, darkened with a mix of irritation.

„Its fine, i will help wrio. You…“ You pull away. „put on the cream.“
He doesn't resist as you pull away, though he looks like he wants to. His hand clenches into a fist—like he's fighting the urge to reach out and pull you back—but he manages to keep his expression impassive as he watches you step away.

"Hmph." He mutters, though his eyes still linger on you as he reluctantly picks up the ointment. "Do what you want."

Diluc watches your retreating back, his eyes lingering on your form for a moment before he turns his attention to his injured side. He finishes applying the ointment with practiced efficiency, but his movements are rougher than necessary—like he's punishing himself for not kissing you before wrio did. The moment your fingers were on his skin replays in his mind, unwanted and maddening. He yanks his shirt back on with a sharp tug, glaring at the cave entrance where you'd disappeared. Somewhere outside, Wrio's laughter carries on the wind—carefree and teasing—and Diluc's grip tightens on his shirt.
"...Idiot."

The moment you step back into the cave, diluc's expression darkens as Wrio pulls you flush against his side with a smirk. His eyes flicker between your face and Wrio’s arm around you, jaw clenched tight.

You notice it but cut him off before he can say anything. „We should use the weather to get down from this mountain… i don’t think the weather will stay long like this…“
The weather won't stay this clear for long—especially not on Dragonspine, and traveling through the blizzard is risky.

"Hmph." He mutters, crossing his arms as if the gesture could hide the barely-restrained irritation in his expression. He's still glaring at Wrio's hand on your waist. „It'd be better to eat before we leave." He hands you a bowl. There's an almost oppressive silence as you eat—the tension in the air as thick as the food Diluc cooked up. Wrio continues to keep you tucked under his arm, seemingly relishing in Diluc's obvious irritation. His hand idly strokes your side, fingers tracing small circles over your hip.Diluc's gaze remains fixed on Wrio's hand every time he touches you—the muscles in his jaw clenching tighter every time. He's seething, but he forces himself to keep eating in stony silence. Why isn’t it him? Why can’t he be the one.

You three wrap up the few things you have and start heading down the mountain. (The journey down the mountain is tense and quiet at best. Wrio remains by your side, his hand always somewhere on your person—his arm around your waist, or his hand resting possessively on your hip, or just there close enough to touch—almost—daring Diluc to complain.
Diluc's mood doesn't improve as the weather worsens—his expression darkening as the storm picks up again. He's struggling now, the strain of walking even with his injury taking its toll. But he's too stubborn to mention it, too focused on keeping himself upright to notice he's limping.

"Fuck" He mutters under his breath, the pain making him grumpy as he tries to hide how much his side is aching. You notice, slipping to his side to help him steady. „Next time use your words..“

He stiffens immediately at your touch—his breath hitching—before he reluctantly lets you help steady him. His glare softens just a fraction, though his pride still keeps him from admitting how much he *needs* the support.
"Hmph." Is all he says—but he doesn't pull away. Wrio watches from behind, his expression darkening at the sight of you helping Diluc—his fingers twitching at his side like he's fighting the urge to pull you back.
„Wrio.“
Wrio's gaze snaps to you at the sound of your voice, his expression schooled into something almost carefully nonchalant.
"Hm?" He responds, tilting his head a fraction. His eyes dart over to diluc, not being happy he isn’t getting all of your attention.
„we should seek shelter… i don’t think diluc should overwork himself.“ you say.
Wrio's smirk is sharp—dangerous—as he watches Diluc lean against you, his breath shallow. There's no sympathy in his gaze—just dark amusement.
"Shouldn't he?" He muses, fingers tapping against his thigh. He would be happy if diluc would just disappear. Finally he sighs dramatically before jerking his chin towards a nearby cabin. "...Fine. There's a small cabin up ahead."
You three head for it, Wrio walks ahead while you follow him, while helping diluc.

*crack*

All three of you freeze—the noise catching your attention. Diluc tenses, his good hand instinctively reaching for his sword. Wrio narrows his eyes. "What the hell was that?" He mutters, gaze flickering around the snow-covered landscape, searching for any sign of movement. „Diluc wait don’t move, i think we are on ice-!“ And you are right, there is ice beneath you, you three didn’t notice since it was snow covered.

Diluc freezes at your words, a jolt of dread piercing through him. He glances down to see the ice beneath his feet.
"Hell…" He mutters, his face paling as he tries to stay perfectly still. Even Wrio goes still, eyes locked onto the ice.The normal path seems to be just a few feet away, it’s almost in reach.
„okay slow..“ You say still steadying diluc, making sure he doesn’t slip.

The air is tight with tension, dilucs entire body trembling as he takes one slow, cautious step forward. The ice creaks beneath his weight, sending all three of you into the freezing depths. The icy water slams into you all at once—cold enough to steal your breath, sharp as a knife. Diluc curses violently, his grip tightening on you instinctively as he tries to kick for the surface. Wrio is already moving—one arm wrapping around your waist while the other grabs Diluc’s sleeve and yanks him upward. You break the surface of the water in a sputtering gasp, lungs screaming as you suck in much-needed air. Your teeth are chattering and your clothes cling to your skin, so cold it hurts. Wrio follows soon after, dragging Diluc after him. The two men climb out of the water, both soaked to the bone and visibly shaking. At the sight of the now in reach cabin your face lightens a bit. Your clothes are too wet, too heavy—and the sooner you get to shelter, the better. Wrio is the first to reach it, shoving the door open with a curse. The inside is small, but dry—a fire laid in the hearth and a few makeshift beds scattered around the room.

"Strip." He orders curtly, already shucking off his own shirt. Diluc bristles at the command but doesn't argue, too busy fighting with his own waterlogged clothes. The wet fabric clings stubbornly to his skin, stiff and cold. He grits his teeth as he peels off his shirt—wincing as his injured side gets exposed. "Hmph." He grumbles, his breath hitching as the cold air hits his skin. Wrio watches you as you shiver and fumble with your own clothes, his eyes flickering over your body with concern. He's already shed most of his clothes, and the sight of him standing shirtless in the warm glow of the fire feels interesting… Your stomach feels weird.. probably just the shock from the fall..

"Come here." He murmurs, waving you over. You shiver as he helps you strip off your soaked clothes, skin prickling at the feeling of the cold air against your wet skin. Your teeth chatter. Wrio reaches out—his hands surprisingly warm as they close around your shoulders. He pulls you against his chest with a gruff murmur of "You're freezing." He's radiating heat, his skin almost scorching against your own as he rubs your arms roughly to create friction. The gesture is possessive—almost protective—and it makes your pulse skip a beat.) „How are you so warm?!..“ You snuggle up a little more against him, with one hand you wave at diluc, signaling to join too.
Diluc hesitates, his eyes locked on your form—your cold skin and shivering limbs and dripping wet hair. The sight of you pressed against Wrio is almost painful* but he grits his teeth, swallowing down the bitter taste of jealousy in the back of his throat. The firelight casts a warm glow on your skin—it makes him want to touch you, to touch your skin and feel the heat of you against him, instead of Wrio. He grumbles, reluctantly stepping forward. As soon as he is near enough to reach you pull him against you two. „You will catch a cold…“
Diluc's breath hitches as you pull him closer, your body like a furnace against his own cold skin. He tenses—instinctively wanting to pull away—but the feel of you is too much to resist.
"Tch." He grumbles, his hands reflexively finding your hips. "I'm fine." But his grip tightens.
A shiver races up your spine as you end up between them, Wrio and Diluc's bodies bracketing you, trapping you in the heat of their skin. You're surrounded by their scent—Wrio's familiar pine-and-leather, Diluc's more subtle spice and smoke. Wrio's lips graze over your neck, teeth grazing the skin just barely. Your breath hitches involuntarily. The sound is sinful—it makes both men tighten their hold on you instantly, their touches possessive and almost bruising. Wrio's teeth graze against your skin a little harder—almost teasing—before he murmurs in your ear. "Your skin is so cold.“ His voice is almost a purr, his breath hot against your neck. „I- well yeah…“ You say a bit embarrassed.
"You're shaking." Diluc murmurs, his voice tinged with concern. He can feel the shivering of your body against his, the way your muscles tense as you shudder. Wrio's hand is moving now, skimming over your sides and across your back.
"You're going to catch a cold.“ Diluc grumbles, his fingers tracing patterns across your skin—almost subconsciously, tracing the curve of your hip, the dip of your waist. You blush slightly, a bit embarrassed, but the attention feels good.. „We should probably make some soup..“ You say trying to looking away, as to break this tension. Wrio snorts at your sudden suggestion—his hand slipping down to your thigh and gripping it possessively.
"We'll make soup in a minute." He mutters, his fingers kneading your skin almost too roughly. Diluc exhales sharply, he suddenly turns you toward him, his hands framing your face as he crashes his lips against yours in a rough kiss. It’s desperate—almost angry—his fingers tangling in your damp hair as he deepens it, teeth nipping at your bottom lip in a way that makes your knees buckle. Wrio—not missing a beat—as his hands slide possessively around your waist from behind, holding you tightly against his chest. His lips trail hot, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, biting down just hard enough to make you gasp against Diluc’s mouth. The kiss is messy and uncoordinated, a desperate display of need—Diluc's tongue licking into your mouth, tasting you hungrily. He's possessive—his grip on you so tight you swear you'll end up with bruises come morning. Wrio, meanwhile, is marking up your neck, nipping and biting his way down the slope of your shoulders. Meanwhile Wrio's fingers hook under the strap of your bra with a hum of approval—his breath hot against your skin as he murmurs— "You won't need this." Diluc breaks the kiss with a sharp inhale—his gaze dropping to where Wrio's fingers are toying with the fabric—his jaw tightening as he watches your reaction. His own hands tighten on your waist—keeping you *right where he wants you*—as he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing, almost-chaste kiss. "Unless you want to keep it on." His voice is rough—a challenge—a dare. You shake your head. Wrio grins—sharp and victorious—before his fingers deftly unhook the clasp of your bra, letting the fabric slide off your shoulders and onto the floor. His hands immediately find your bare skin—palming your chest possessively as he leans in to murmur against your ear- "That's better.“ Wrio's fingers trace slow, deliberate circles around your nipples—his touch unbearably teasing as he takes his sweet time, savoring every hitched breath and shuddering gasp. His other hand stays gripping your waist, keeping you pinned between him and Diluc—who watches the display with burning eyes, his own fingers flexing against your hips.
Diluc leans in suddenly, lips brushing against yours—barely a kiss—before murmuring— "Don't let him distract you."His voice is low—as his thumb presses against your bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. Wrio laughs—dark and amused—before his fingers finally give you the pressure you crave—just to pull away again, leaving you aching. Diluc comes a bit closer, the sudden movement makes your breath hitch—Diluc’s grip firm as he adjusts you, his thigh pressing between yours. The contact is electric, the friction sending sparks up your spine. Wrio growls—low and possessive—his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls your head back, exposing your throat. "Look at you." Diluc murmurs, his voice rough as his hand trails down your stomach—toward your waistband—his fingers hooking into the fabric of your underwear. „Already so desperate for us." Wrio slips two fingers into your mouth. The intrusion is sudden—Wrio’s fingers pressing down on your tongue, his grip tight as he forces your jaw wider. His other hand on your chest again- roughly, thumb flicking over your nipple in slow, torturous circles. Diluc watches—his breath uneven—before his own hand finally slips beneath your underwear, fingers dragging through slick heat— "Fuck." He grits out, pupils blown wide as he feels just how wet you are for them.
Wrio’s fingers press deeper into your mouth—his thumb stroking along your bottom lip—before murmuring— "Want to taste something good?" His voice is dark, almost hungry. Without waiting for an answer, Wrio pulls his fingers from your mouth—only to drag them down your chest, over your stomach, and finally between your legs—coating them in your slick before pressing them back against your lips. "Open." He commands, voice rough—while dilucs eyes are locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your stomach flip. Diluc’s fingers curl inside you just as Wrio’s press against your tongue—his rhythm deliberate, unrelenting—forcing you to taste yourself as he murmurs— "Be good and take it."

Wrio slips to the front, leaning you against the a piece of furniture, both of the men now hovering over you. The shift in position leaves you exposed—spread beneath them, their bodies caging you in. Wrio’s smirk is sharp as he leans down, his breath hot against your lips— "You look so pretty like this." His fingers trail down your chest—his thumb brushing over your nipple—before his hand finally dips lower, replacing Diluc’s fingers with his own—his touch ruthless, fingers curling just right. Diluc’s grip tightens on your thigh—his other hand sliding up to tangle in your hair—as he leans in, lips brushing against yours. He pulls away slowly, his mouth hot as it trails down your chest—his tongue flicking over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch against him. His free hand joins Wrio’s between your legs—fingers sliding against yours—their combined touch relentless as they tease you higher.
"Fuck—you’re dripping.“ Wrios voice is rough—strained—as he watches Diluc’s mouth on you, their hands working you open. You can’t stop moaning. The sound of your moans setting them both off. Wrio curses, his fingers speeding up, curling just right—teasing you as their touches become desperate, and more aggressive. Diluc lifts his head for a moment—kissing your neck, biting at your throat—before he leans in, the two of them whispering in your ear. "You wanna be good for us?"
You arch your back as they go deeper, acing for them. „yes-„
They move together—Diluc's mouth returning to your chest, his tongue swirling in torturous circles while Wrio's fingers sink deeper—their rhythm brutal. Diluc free hand gripping your thigh, spreading you wider—as Wrio murmurs- „Then take it all.“ His Fingers curl inside you—harder— making you almost finish. Wrio notices and starts pulling down his own underwear, with his free hand. Just as you are about to finish he stops… slowly filling you up with his cock instead. You gasp at the new sensation—but it’s quickly smothered by another moan as Wrio leans closer, his mouth moving to your ear. His breath is hot against your skin—his voice low. "You like that, sweetheart? Don’t need you to come- not yet.“ His hips press forward—his hand moving to cup your face, while his thumb rubs at your lip-
"You want us?"
You can’t even answer as he thrust deeper, taking your breath away. Dilucs hand grips your jaw, his eyes dark as he forces your gaze back to him.
„He asked you a question, darling." He murmurs, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip.
"I said. Do you want us?" Wrio repeats the question, voice dangerous as dilucs hand moves from your chin to your neck, fingers curling around your throat and tightening just slightly—a warning.
You nod. Wrio grins—he thrusts deeper—before his gaze flickered over to where Diluc was— "Heard her, diluc?"
Diluc moves, shifting until he's by your side—his hand sliding up your stomach to palm your chest, his touch possessive, as he murmurs— "Looks like it.“
His hand drifts lower again, fingers brushing your hip, his eyes dark—
"And I think we should give her what she wants, hm?" Diluc lifts you slightly, the sudden shift makes your breath hitch—Diluc’s hands rough as he hauls you into his lap, your back pressed flush against his chest. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading them wider—exposing you completely to Wrio’s hungry gaze.
Wrio growls—his eyes locked onto where you’re spread open—before he grips his dick, dragging the tip through your slick with a moan. "Fuck—look at you." His voice is wrecked—rough—as he presses forward again, sinking into you with one deep, unhurried thrust. Diluc’s breath fans over your shoulder—his hands gripping your hips—as he murmurs— "Take it. All of it."
Wrio groans, his rhythm faltering as his hips stutter—his fingers digging into your waist as he loses himself in the feel of you. Diluc hisses—his grip tightening—as he watches Wrio unravel—before his own hand slips between your legs, fingers circling your clit with rough, relentless strokes. Wrio thrusts deeper, harder, forcing loud moans from you. He finally collapses forward with a shudder—his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he rides out his climax, his fingers tightening in your hair. His breathing is ragged, his body still trembling with the aftershocks as he pulls out—slowly—watching the mess he made with satisfaction.

But Diluc isn’t done yet—his fingers still working you relentlessly—his lips brushing your ear as he murmurs—"You're not finished." His voice is rough—commanding—his touch unforgiving as he drives you toward peak. Wrio groans as his fingers slide through the slick mess—watching as Diluc’s relentless touch pushes you over the edge, making you come. Your back arches, your fingers clutching at Diluc’s arm as you come apart—your thighs trembling. Diluc hisses—his grip tightening—as he feels you clench around nothing—his own restraint fraying.
"Fuck." His voice is wrecked—his breath ragged—as he watches you come. Wrio smirks, dragging his fingers out—before pressing them against your lips—his eyes dark with challenge as he looks at diluc. "Your turn."

Diluc's eyes go dark—his expression almost dangerous as his grip on your hip tightens— "On your knees." His voice is rough, almost a growl—leaving no room for argument as he shifts, releasing you with a shove. Wrio moves aside, eyes on you expectantly—as you climb onto your hands and knees, shivering as the cold air hits your skin. Your body feels used, sore and sensitive—but somehow you still want more. Diluc’s hand curls around the back of your neck—pressing you down further, as he positions himself behind you. His grip is bruising, his breath uneven as he murmurs—)

"Good." His free hand trails down your spine—possessive—before settling on your hip. He doesn’t hesitate—sinking into you with one rough thrust.
Wrio watches—his smirk sharp—as he leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "Look at you. Taking him so well." Diluc’s rhythm is brutal—his fingers digging into your skin—as he chases his own release, his breath coming in ragged pants. "Fuck—so tight." He pulls at your hair positioning your head in Wrios lap. Wrio grins—his fingers tangling in your hair as he guides you forward—his gaze fixed on your face. “Open your mouth.” He murmurs—and you obey without thinking, your lips parting. His hands tighten in your hair as he pulls you forward, his eyes dark as he looks at you expectantly. "That's a good girl." He murmurs—as you lean closer. And then, you feel Diluc's hand wrap around your neck—his grip just firm enough to make you shiver. "Go on. Be good." He murmurs, the words more a command than anything. And Wrio wastes no time—his hand guiding your head down.
"Open wider." He murmurs—and you comply, your mouth opening wider. You can feel his grip in your hair tighten—the pressure just enough to make you shiver.
Dilucs paste picks up, thrusting faster from the back, you have to stop sucking Wrio off for a second. Wrio snarls—his grip tightening—as Diluc’s rhythm turns brutal, each thrust driving you forward. Your lips part—your breath coming in ragged gasps—as you try to steady yourself, your hands gripping Wrio’s thighs. Diluc hisses—his fingers digging into your hips—as he watches you struggle to keep up—his pace unrelenting.
"Don’t stop." His voice is rough—commanding—his fingers tightening around your waist as he forces you back against him. Wrio’s smirk is sharp—his fingers tightening in your hair—before he tugs—forcing your gaze up to meet his. "Eyes on me." His voice is dark—a warning—as his other hand grips your throat, pushing you down again and holding you in place.

Both of them come together, their grips on you tight, almost bruising. Their breaths are labored—their bodies trembling with exertion. Diluc is the first to recover, though. His grip loosens on your hips—his fingers running up your sides. Wrio is even slower to recover—his hand still in your hair, using it to tilt your head up towards him.

"Good girl.“ Wrio murmurs—giving you a kiss on your forehead. Wrio's grip tightens in your hair, his free hand coming up to tap against your cheek—a silent warning. "Hold it." His voice is rough—his gaze locked onto yours—before he suddenly leans down, sealing his lips over yours in a possessive kiss. Diluc watches—his jaw tight—before he grips your chin forcing you away from the kiss. His Thumb opening your mouth. "Now clean it." His voice commanding—his thumb pressing against your bottom lip as he pushes you down on his dick. Even as your eyes flutter shut, you can feel Diluc's gaze fixed on you—his hand still firm on your chin, holding you in place. He finally releases you, his fingers loosening from your hair as he leans back, his gaze roaming your face. "Open your mouth." He murmurs, his voice a low rumble as he cups your chin in his hand. You obey without hesitation, your lips parting as you look up at him. "Let me see." He murmurs, his gaze dark with desire as he leans in closer. His gaze fixed on you as he examines your mouth—every detail—before he lifts his hand, dragging a thumb across your bottom lip. "Such a good girl." His voice is deep—rough—and the praise makes you feel warm and also… happy.
"Swallow." He says, his thumb pressing down. You do so without thinking, your tongue brushing against his thumb as you swallow.
"Good." His lips quirk into a smirk.

Wrio's gaze is almost predatory, his smirk sharp as he watches you.
"You like the way you taste?" He murmurs—watching dilucs thumb still on your lip.
You nod, your mouth opening slightly as you lick at his thumb. Dilucs gaze blazes—a low growl rumbling from his chest as he presses his thumb against your tongue. It's an instinct, almost—the way you suck at the pad of his thumb—his smirk growing wider as you respond instantly to him.

Diluc’s arms wrap around you, pulling you back against his chest—his grip possessive as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin—his heartbeat steady beneath your back. Wrio watches, his smirk softening into something almost fond—before he reaches out, ruffling your hair with a rough chuckle.
"Rest now." His voice is quieter—softer—as he leans back, stretching lazily. Diluc hums in agreement—his fingers tracing idle patterns across your stomach—his touch gentle now, almost reverent.
".You did well." The words are murmured against your skin—quiet—but they send warmth curling through your chest all the same.

You feel a lot warmer, you almost forgot where you were- in a cabin- closed in by the storm- cold. A shiver races up your spine as the cold air hits your skin, and Diluc’s arms tighten around you reflexively, pulling you closer as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. Wrio notices your reaction—a frown marring his face as he stands, moving to the window.
"The weather's getting worse." He mutters, pulling the curtains closed as he looks out at the raging snowstorm. „I will start up the soup you talked about“ he smiles as he talks to you- fondly- nothing like the person he was a few seconds ago, when you were sucking him off. You blush at that thought.