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Xiao is used to adeptal power, but there’s something about this place that is, without a doubt, entirely Aether.
He appears like he’s dropping in from a short distance, his feet touching softly on soft grass reminiscent of another place far from Liyue. Xiao hasn’t traveled far enough to know, his duty keeping him more or less grounded in a place where only the people change century after century, if you look past the natural corrosion of time, wind, and salt.
The trees here are different, some knotted and some glowing. He recognizes the borders of Mondstadt and Sumeru, but here combined because the Traveler is so used to going that it wouldn’t occur to him that those places could never actually touch.
Here, though, in his domain, is the entire world.
Xiao approaches the house, passing five different cats along the path, all completely unconcerned with this new visitor. Are they real, or are they too just manifestations of what Aether thinks should be here?
He lets himself in past a sleeping forge and a patch of sunflowers surrounding a crude metal statue. It must carry some kind of meaning for him, or perhaps he just liked it.
The house is quiet. Aether and Paimon are usually attached at the hip, but in here they have their own separate spaces. No one can come uninvited so neither have to worry about the other being attacked. Paimon has a little house on the other side with giant piles of mora and gemstones she can sit and nap on, which is apparently her ideal paradise.
It’s impossible to miss that Aether’s is just a home.
Xiao stops in front of a portrait of a girl with pale yellow hair in a blue dress, holding a bouquet of white flowers and smiling brightly like she’s never known any other feelings beyond joy and peace. He isn’t sure who painted it, but if his guess is right, it wasn’t painted from memory.
A dream, maybe.
Xiao looks away, an ache in his chest drawing him back to the present. There are people he can only see in his dreams now too, but there’s no one left who would know how to paint them. He’s never told Aether this, but since they’ve met, he’s been keeping his eyes open for a different traveler, just in case.
He wonders how many people from all the other nations keep their eyes open too for blonde hair and blue dresses. Has there ever been another person in the world less than a god who could make so many people hope they finally get what they want?
Xiao steps carefully up the stairs. He could probably appear wherever he wanted to in this place like he does in the real world, but this is Aether’s home, and truthfully this small ritual of moving through it and absorbing all the little changes gives him time to think of what he should say.
He doesn’t have to speak this time.
He finds Aether sleeping on top of his bed over the covers, clutching a pillow with his braid loose but not completely undone. Warm, false sunlight bleeds through the window, making the bare strip of skin across his lower back glow a soft gold.
Xiao allows himself a moment to watch him, to observe him like this when the room is still bright enough to show the perfect slope of his nose and the curve of his ear.
It’s never a good idea to get attached to people, but there’s something about Aether that makes it impossible not to. But there is a small comfort in knowing that even if he is always going, he can never really be gone.
And the teapot helps.
Xiao moves towards the bed as quietly as possible like a ghost until he’s close enough to sit next to him. The bed dips with his weight, but Aether doesn’t stir. He would have no reason to here.
Tentatively, he grazes his hand over that bare strip of skin, finding a golden trail of peach fuzz that catches the light in small sparkles like dew. The skin itself is warm to the touch, but that warmth comes from Aether himself and not from the light.
He moves his hand up to his back to the loosened braid where he works it apart in gentle plucks, digging his fingers in to the knuckle to separate the more stubborn crosses of strands.
Once it’s freed, he brushes his hair to the side, scooping it off onto a pile next to him to expose his back. He still wears a shirt, but that’s fine. Xiao knows what the muscles beneath it look like already. He has them memorized by touch, sight, and taste.
He moves his hand over him, his touch light enough that he won’t wake him but following the outline of a massage. Aether hums softly in his sleep, letting Xiao know that it feels good.
He presses a little harder, testing the waters so to speak, letting the heel of his palm press against his spine while his fingers web over his lower back, so close to the top his pants that the right flex would slip the tip of his longest beneath the band.
Temptation gnaws at him, its teeth so sharp it’s almost irritating.
He could, just a little…
It wouldn’t be anything to let his hand slip just a few inches, not enough to bury himself beneath his clothes but at least enough to feel where his body is its softest.
He takes a deep breath, inhaling through his nose and exhaling from his mouth, letting the blood in his veins moves where it wills, the heat of it rising to a slow simmer.
No, he tells himself, warning himself like a child with its hand hovering over hot coals. He can’t just touch him because he wants to, just because they’re finally, finally in the same room again.
He puts his hand on the bed where it’s safe, where he can’t get himself into any trouble. As long as he keeps his hand on the bed he can’t put it anywhere else, and as long as he doesn’t put it anywhere else, he can’t get burned.
The position moves him closer though, giving him better access to his scent. Aether smells like…
Freedom.
He smells like freedom, like fresh blooms, like rushing waters, and campfire smoke. He smells like the world and all its influence, but he’s so much like him that Xiao can’t help but close his eyes and breathe him in.
He moves closer, following a thin, invisible trail of smoke until–.
He’s flat on his back.
His eyes flash open, his body tensing as another form presses him down onto the bed, the hand on his wrist firm but not bruising. Aether’s eyes are heavy from sleep, but there’s still the spark there of a trap successfully sprung.
He grins down at him, his hair curtaining them and spilling down all sides in a golden veil, and Xiao’s heart rabbits in his chest from the surprise.
“You caught me,” he says evenly, hoping that the hammering pulse in his throat doesn’t give him away. It should be impossible for anyone to tackle him, let alone catch him by surprise, but Aether has like a hunter stalking his prey, using his own body like a fresh, enticing piece of meat. This shouldn’t feel as good as it does.
“You came,” Aether says, tired but happy, like he didn’t quite believe Xiao would. Is accepting invitations so unlike him? He comes every time Aether calls, so why shouldn’t he appear occasionally after Aether has explicitly told him to?
Aether releases the grip on his wrist so he can better brace himself above him, keeping Xiao in a cage of arms and legs with just enough room between them that Xiao can freely and easily reach up and bury his fingers in Aether’s hair.
He tugs at him slightly, and Aether follows down to his mouth, soft lips sending a surge of something sharp and dangerous down his spine, not too different from a strong liquor warmed just to the right temperature for a cold night.
His body, always coiled for a fight, relaxes into putty beneath him, the kiss overriding every single one of the instincts he’s honed over time. He’s safe here. Needed and not for the reasons most people do.
They are just tangled breaths, the soft shuffle of clothes brushing against each other, the gentle creak of a bed when their weight presses into it fully without a single hair of separation between them.
The kiss finds a tempo, rushed and blooming, and the thunder of his pulse only spurs it on.
How long has it been? Weeks? Months?
Every time feels like a continuation of the first, a mutual desperation to get back on task and find that moment again when Xiao finally allowed himself to let someone in, just for it to be the person he may have always been waiting for.
In the blink of an eye, he flips them. Aether lands with a pleased look of surprise on his face, the thrill of being tossed around by someone with capable strength so obvious that Xiao almost laughs.
This time it’s his turn to descend, and where before he was encouraging at best, now Aether acts. Warm fingers work their way beneath his shirt, urging it up, and Xiao doesn’t miss the way Aether’s eyes track the angles of his body as soon as he gives in and pulls it off.
Aether’s comes next, both of them alternating back and forth. They undress each other like it’s a game of cards until it’s just scars and sunlight, and they’re both so greedy with it he’s glad this room is just for them.
Aether runs his hands over his body, openly stealing touches Xiao only let himself think about, because there’s no reason to hold back. Not with them. Not when they’re like this.
He kisses him once before he moves down, takes a bud between his teeth, and then moves to nose his navel as Aether stretches and bends beneath him in an involuntary arch.
“Here,” Aether says, finally reaching the limit of his patience before he reaches for the table and a nondescript vase that Xiao belatedly realizes is missing flowers.
It’s not filled with water.
Of course Aether wouldn’t keep something like this out in the open, too obvious when someone like Paimon is always close by, but a flicker of something bitter and wicked wonders who else has seen it and known.
But Aether is out of breath, naked beneath him, and the look on his face could only contain one word.
You.
He wets his fingers with it, moving himself up to look Aether in the eyes as he presses close, waits for him to catch his breath before he pushes in.
There.
That beautiful tightness. That tense little ring of him that begs to be stretched and filled.
Aether’s mouth parts slightly, his chest rising as his cheeks flush to the color of silk flowers. He pulls Xiao back to his lips even as his thigh raises to make more room, the sudden heat of his body like a sweet promise of what’s to come.
He presses into him deeper, working him open as Aether groans into his mouth, the sound just as delirious as Xiao feels causing it. His movements become slow strokes as he fucks him slowly and steadily with just his fingers, making himself burn with impatience.
And Aether, just as bad as he is, grabs his wrist to stop him, his eyes so intense they’re nearly feral. He doesn’t have to speak for what he wants, rarely speaks anyway, but like for most things, his need is loud and clear.
He grabs the bottle on his own this time and reaches between them to stroke Xiao from base to tip, making sure the slide in will be perfect for both of them. Xiao’s breath shutters out as he looks down at the ripple of skin over Aether’s abs from the angle, at the way he leaks over his own hip in anticipation.
Xiao reaches down, takes over, and wastes absolutely no time at all pushing himself in, relishing in the way Aether’s body only pretends to struggle to take him.
Aether sighs in pleasure, his head rolling back to expose the perfect column of his throat. Xiao grabs his thighs, spreads him apart as he meets him skin to skin, taking full control as Aether takes him completely. He rolls his hips back and forth in a slow wave that pushes out a moan, Aether’s arms moving automatically over his head to brace against the headboard. This is something they’ve both waited too long for.
He rolls down to him, burying his face in Aether’s neck, needing to feel his warmth against his chest as he fucks into him, the slap of it dulled by their soft gasps and huffs.
He mouths at his skin, one hand splayed against his thigh as he thrusts over, and over, and over again. One of Aether’s arms curls around his neck in a half embrace, needing that closeness too.
Sometimes he wishes he was a man of more words. Then he could tell him how good he feels, how hard he makes him, how much he missed him. Truly, painfully missed him.
He missed him like a person misses breathing when they’re under water or how they miss the sunlight during the winter. He missed him like he’s spent every single day waiting for Aether to just speak his name into the wind.
“Xiao,” he whispers, the word dripping with need, and Xiao nearly loses it right then and there. His hips jerk, a gasp tearing from his lips as he nearly claws a row of stripes over Aether’s thigh. He said all he had to do to make him come was say his name, but this is not specifically what he meant.
And yet.
He groans into Aether’s shoulder, the sound something animal and hungry. This time it’s Aether who claws at his back, who rolls his hips beneath him to take him deeper, faster.
How long has he stopped himself from saying his name?
Weeks.
Months.
Aether’s breaths pitch, coming out harder and fevered. His eyes wrench shut as his mouth parts on a silent cry, and Xiao fills him without thinking, without fully expecting it. He comes, buried into him to the hilt, and the feeling of that wet heat pouring into his insides must be what forces Aether to follow. He paints Xiao’s chest in a jagged line as Xiao thrusts, chasing every possible pulse and ripple he can get out of this until he feels his own thighs tremble, his strength sapped out.
He pulls out—or rather falls out—as he drops down on top of him, out of breath with spots in his vision. He must have forgotten how to breathe because suddenly he sucks in a gulp of air and gasps it back out before it can fully reach his brain.
Aether pants beneath him, his breaths quick and body tense like he can still take more. Without thinking, Xiao plunges two fingers inside him, then a third, and he curls them without mercy as he pulls out a second, quick and dry, but enough to give him that final crash.
They’re immediately in each others’ arms, kissing like they’re under a spell, or maybe fresh out of one, and it feels so good that he barely notices the way the sun blinks away and is immediately replaced with false moonlight.
Stay, it says.
Just for tonight.
Your duties can wait, but I can’t.
Aether turns them, hooks a leg over his hip, and silently requests it again, this time with a pleading look in his eye Xiao can’t say no to.
“We’ve made a mess of your bed,” Xiao notes like that’s an answer in either direction.
Aether’s eyes sparkle, his pupils blown like a cat’s. “Did we?”
He looks down to a different bed with different sheets, somehow softer and more suited for his skin, and a smile of amusement spreads across his lips.
To think someone would use adeptal energy for something like that. Every bone in his body should be horrified.
Instead, he’s just endeared.
“If I’m needed, will you go with me?” Xiao asks, breaking every rule he has, because Aether is capable.
Strong, skilled, reliable, and–.
It’s just better with him there. It shouldn’t be, but it is.
Aether nods, the sated smile on his lips making him look soft and lazy. They would probably stumble towards a fight like this, but that’s okay.
He kisses him again because Aether is his to kiss. He allowed himself this, and to deny it wouldn’t be fair to either of them.
Aether tugs a blanket over them, shielding their naked bodies just in case.
“I’ll make your favorite,” he says like Xiao needs another incentive to stay, like that would be the one thing that could keep him here a little longer.
Xiao doesn’t answer. He just twists Aether’s hair around his finger while he watches him, content to just be.
Aether closes his eyes, not having to worry that Xiao will still be here when he opens them again.
He pulls him to his chest, silently grateful that he can.