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feroluce · 1 month

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Lucid Dreamer (1/2)

part 2

Gepard notices that it's been. Quiet lately. Like weirdly quiet. TOO quiet. He hasn't seen Sampo Koski in almost a week, which is about the longest he's ever been absent. And he is NOT worried. He's not! So what if they've been getting along more lately! So what if Gepard sometimes looks for him in his favorite hiding places! So what if he's been dreaming about blue hair and green eyes! It's nothing!!

But they're….strange, these dreams. Gepard doesn't usually remember what he's dreamt. It's out of his mind seconds within waking up. But these stick with him, they won't leave him be, they feel different somehow.

He dreams of Sampo bringing food to the frontlines and eating breakfast in his tent with him. Sampo always sneaks him extras. He dreams of chasing Sampo through the alleyways, Sampo sometimes letting himself be caught, Gepard sometimes catching him, and trying to ignore how it feels more like a game now more than anything else. He even dreams that Sampo tags along with him on one of his few civilian days. Sampo runs errands with him, prattles about inane bullshit while Gepard picks out groceries for the week, drags Gepard into some bakery he's never been to but he thinks Serval mentioned once.

And sometimes, it feels so close to reality, that Gepard half expects to see Sampo, shamelessly swaggering into the frontlines with all the guards' breakfast like his wanted poster wasn't only recently taken off the walls of Belobog. He's disappointed when it's always someone else instead. He tells himself his disappointment is ridiculous and if Sampo wants to go prowl around the Snow Plains or wherever he is, then fine. It's not any of his business.

…But it IS his job to investigate any unusual criminal activity relating to the frontlines. And the frontlines are Sampo's usual haunting grounds, and this is unusual activity, and Sampo IS technically a criminal, so it is absolutely part of his duty to look into this - is what Gepard tells himself the entire tram ride down into the Underground.

Natasha tells him he's gone, and Gepard has to steel himself. He knew Sampo made enemies wherever he went, there are a lot of people who would love his head on a platter, but he didn't think-

Natasha corrects him that she means literally gone. As in off-planet. Sampo always leaves her a note before he goes anywhere, so she knows not to expect any supply runs from him. He should be back in exactly two weeks. Thank the Preservation.

Gepard goes back home. He waits.

The uneasiness doesn't leave him.

"Where did you go?" Sampo stops dead in the middle of some story about Seele, and how you'd think someone with as blunt a mouth as her wouldn't have so much trouble asking a woman out, even if that woman IS the Supreme Guardian, and stares at him. He nearly fumbles his cigarette.

"Ahaha, what do you mean, I'm right here?" Sampo smiles at him the same way he always does. Gepard has no idea why he asked. It just popped out. He can never tell when Sampo is lying, anyway.

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Gepard idly mouths at his own cigarette. He almost never smokes, but he wants to ration their stocks of Blizzard Immunity, and it helps with the cold. It's seemed colder lately, for some reason.

Gepard flicks his lighter once, twice, sighs at the third time because a metal prosthetic and thick gloves make the damn things so difficult. Sampo reaches over and wordlessly kisses the end of his cigarette to Gepard's, lighting it. "Thank you."

Nothing happens for almost a full 30 seconds. Something churns behind Gepard's ribcage. Because Sampo never leaves a "thank you" hanging. This is the part where he gives his spiel about how helpful and kind he is and Gepard either brings up how long his rap sheet was before Bronya helped clear his name, or just stares deadpan because seeing Sampo squirm is weirdly satisfying.

"…I'll be back in one more week."

Gepard jolts awake in his cot, mouth dry and eyes bleary.

The hell.

The next dream he has, Sampo looks tired. Sometimes he seems normal. Sometimes he says strange things, like how he wishes he'd gone to some restaurant in Belobog. Ate his favorite food more recently. Brought something with him. Gepard asks why he can't do that now. Where would he bring something? Sampo only shrugs. His rebuttals have less energy.

Gepard doesn't know if he wants to dream more, or less.

He ticks down the days on his calendar. Natasha hasn't told him any different. She promised she would if she got any kind of message. Sampo returns tomorrow, from whatever vacation or seedy business dealings he's been off having. He is not excited about it. He is not looking forward to it. He's not!!

Gepard falls asleep late that night, unable to settle. He dreams again.

He's alone. There are tons of people everywhere, the frontlines are always crowded. But he's alone. They all pass right by him as though he were a ghost. Gepard starts to walk before he realizes his feet are even moving.

He checks the trashcans in the dead end alley. He checks the supply crates that someone always stacks too high because they don't feel like finding more space for them. He pauses to check the soldiers that march past him, watching their footprints in the snow.

He finally finds Sampo on the rooftop along the northernmost wall, the one that looks out over the plains, towards Everwinter Hill, towards where the Stellaron had once been kept. With a full moon and an entire land of white snow, Gepard can almost see clear out to the horizon.

"Found you." Sampo stiffens, and Gepard is almost prepared for him to sprint off the roof. He doesn't. But he doesn't relax either. Gepard sits down next to him and stares out at the wastelands.

"…I fucked up." It wasn't what Gepard had been expecting. Sampo never 'fucks up,' Sampo just gets into incidents that are entirely, supposedly, not his fault and that he just happens to always be within the vicinity of.

"What did you do now?" It must be really bad if Sampo is coming to the Silvermanes for protection.

Instead, Sampo ignores his question completely. "See out over there? Right on the other side of that mountain. There's a safe house that way. It's hidden under a lot of snow and dead trees, but it's there. And in that safe house is a box full of letters. I need you to deliver those letters for me."

Gepard's brow furrows. It's a weird favor to ask. Sampo would never tell anyone where his hidden safehouses were. It defeated the whole purpose of a hidden safe house.

Something is wrong, something is really really wrong.

Gepard turns back to look at him again and startles, all of his questions dying in his throat, because the entire left side of Sampo's head is suddenly matted down, dark and sticky, his skin is dyed red red red-

"In three more months, there's gonna be something big happening." Gepard grabs Sampo's hand and it feels slick and warm against his palm. "I won't be here. So I need you to do my end of things for me." Gepard tries to keep hold, but something is fading, something is slowing, the sun is coming up but the colors are all wrong, everything feels like encroaching fog, Sampo's hand slides right through his. "I was gonna come back with my mask to finish setting the stage, but…" Gepard makes a frantic grab for Sampo's wrist, the air twists, he comes back empty-handed. "They have you. And you're the Iron Wall of Belobog. So it'll be ok."

Gepard finally manages to find his grip, snatches the front of Sampo's dark wet jacket and yanks him forward to hold onto him, and this close up, he can see it better, his colors are bleaching out, leaking outside the lines as if Sampo will become part of the background, as if he's fading into the strange fog that's been closing in on them. His fingers are already starting to feel empty again.

"Wake up."

Gepard jolts awake, uncurls his hands from where they're fisted in the blanket, scrubs the dampness off his face. Breathes. Breathes. Breathes. Today is supposed to be the day.

He throws on his civilian clothes, and he goes down to the shipyard the IPC had built. He finds a spot where he can see every person that returns to Belobog, and he waits.

And he waits and he waits and he waits.

No one he recognizes appears.

#sampard #gepo #hsr gepard #hsr sampo #gepard landau #sampo koski #honkai star rail #hsr #blood #my fics #lucid dreamer #there was more to this but it didn't feel right included here so part 2 tomorrow maybe?#I just think Penacony being the land of dreams presents some FASCINATING possibilities like showing up in other people's dreams #the end of masquerade duet killed me just beat me dead #Sampo going through all this trouble just to protect Belobog...#poor Ray got such an earful that night haha #In the Penacony dreamscape someone can change their appearance however they want but I think in this case where one of the dreamers AREN'T-#-on Penacony it would take more concentration to keep that illusion up #and if someone were say. hurt and badly bleeding. it would start to fall apart eventually as they lost their concentration.#but oh my heart #Sampo being away and missing Belobog so badly he shows up in his friends' dreams just to do the same mundane shit they always do...#He probably showed up to everyone #he sat around and kept Natasha company in her clinic. he pestered Seele until he provoked her into asking Bronya on a date.#he played one last song with Pela and Serval. he told them he'd always kept his old bass guitar.#he took Hook out on one last joyride on his scooter and he even let her sit up front and steer like she'd always wanted.#and he stood around to shoot the shit with Gepard #he got to go do things like run domestic errands together with him. as if they could have been something more than what they were at the en #it was nice to get the chance to do all that #it was nice

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thirteenducks · 1 year

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dinner & diatribes

(zhongli x wife!reader) [NSFW]

༻❁༺ content: fem!reader, established relationship, ~5k wc

༻❁༺ tags: dom!reader, sub!zhongli, accidental stimulation, masturbation, handjobs, orgasm denial, teasing, zhongli has dragonesque tendencies including a rut season, reader is only a little mean about it <3

For all of his wisdom and eons of knowledge, Zhongli's not quite certain what to do when he ends up achingly aroused at a dinner party with his wife. The plan from here: survive, and retain his pride at all costs.

Zhongli’s long, gloved fingers were curled so tightly around the glass in his hand that it was a miracle it hadn’t cracked yet.

Curses. To be in such a state, in a public place like this, with her and all of our friends as witnesses...

He let an obscenity softly slip out under his breath.

It was partially his own fault, Zhongli told himself. After all, that dress had been handpicked by him to adorn his beloved tonight. His eyes naturally gravitated to her the way they always did, admiring the beautiful flush that animated conversation had brought to her cheeks, though it besieged his mind with thoughts he’d rather not be having at the moment.

It’s a good thing you retired, you old bastard. These are hardly thoughts fitting of an archon at any time, let alone at a banquet with his wife and dearest friends.

Zhongli took a shaky sip of his wine and bit back a low groan, wishing it would cloud all of his senses the way it did his thoughts. His discomposure, to his dismay, was growing by the minute. Under the table, he could feel the uncomfortable tightness in his suit trousers every time he shifted.

Earlier that afternoon, he’d felt the telltale stirrings of something in his subconscious. As he helped his wife prepare for the evening, fastening her necklace of jade, his more base desires had urged him to leave a mark on her lovely exposed neck, as if her garments and the arm wrapped around her waist were not enough to announce her as his. He had heard the rush of blood in his ears, had felt the outbreak of sweat on his forehead, and yet he had done nothing to prepare.

And now, Zhongli would pay due penance for neglecting to keep on top of his calendar.

Curse the limits of this human body. In his archon form, he wouldn’t be considering bringing himself off in the restroom of a reputable establishment to stave off a rut, of that he was certain.

While excusing himself to the men’s room was the quickest way to relief and thus the most tempting course of action, it would never be enough; Zhongli knew his vessel too well to pretend the issue would be resolved that easily. If memory served—and his always did—this might go on all night, regardless of how many times he...

He drummed his gloved fingers anxiously on the expensive tablecloth. No, temporary release was not the solution. Besides, he’d rather relive the wrath of Osial a thousand times than walk across this dining room with his arousal prominent in his trousers.

This brought him to the next scenario, which required letting his beloved know of his current... predicament.

It wouldn’t be too difficult. He was worked up enough that a gentle pass of her lovely hand over his lap would convey his message just fine. He pushed past that dangerous thought before he could dwell on it for very long.

While she would most assuredly be understanding, as she was in all her husband’s matters, Zhongli’s pride protested just a little too much to really consider going through with it. The promise of leaving early under the guise of sudden sickness was enticing to his weary mind, but at home, he could hide nothing from her. To show such vulnerability, even to his wife, would be a trial indeed for an ex-archon.

He sighed, bringing his eyes back into focus from a few decidedly unsophisticated fantasies of what she might do in response. Tch. Stay lucid, Morax.

Only one option remained. He fought back a grimace at the thought of it, but if he was to end the night with the same grace he began it, he would have to suffer through the rest of dinner and endure until he was safely at home behind a locked door. Such a show of restraint actually might kill him, he thought, but what other choice did he have?

A woman’s voice from across the table interrupted his internal monologue; Yanfei had asked his opinion on a popular betting game. In the interest of appearing like his normal self, who never passed on an opportunity to impart knowledge, he suppressed the sound that was forming in the back of his throat and attempted to compose himself.

Surreptitiously pressing one hand to the obvious outline in his pants and curling the fingers of the other into his palm, he gathered himself enough to give a believable response, if not quite of the usual length.

His friends seemed satisfied enough with his answer to leave him alone for the time being. He begged a prayer to the heavenly principles that his wife wouldn’t happen to look over on a whim and see her husband with a hand slotted between his legs and a thinly veiled blush.

The marginal friction it provided was simultaneously heaven and hell, but he couldn’t stay like that forever. Not when he might be discovered at any moment. He dug his nails into his palm harder, leaving crescent marks even through his glove, and bit his inner lip as he released his shaft and placed his hand limply on the table.

As he was fighting to stabilize his lust-shrouded mind, Zhongli felt a soft hand on his flushed upper thigh. He turned to his right, his cock twitching in mingled surprise and pleasure, and cursed internally. There, looking so lovely that she hurt to behold in his current state of mind, was his wife, who turned her body toward his and met his eyes with a look of gentle concern. Did she know...?

To his quiet dismay, her thumb began to move in circles against his thigh in what he assumed was meant as a comforting gesture to a husband she believed to be feeling ill. (He was. Please, attend to your sick husband, he thought.)

Unfortunately, her ministrations were having quite the opposite effect on Zhongli’s hormone-riddled vessel. The circles became larger, spanning the skin from his inner thigh to his trouser pocket. As her movements got bolder, she began stroking his leg like she would be stroking a different part of his body right now, if he had his way, and oh— if she would just move her hand a little to the left, please. Please.

But no, they were still at this accursed dinner and he had a reputation to maintain, he reminded himself staunchly. He fought off a headache as his southern head pulsed in mocking synchrony.

It was pathetic how easily he melted under her touch in any circumstance. With this added to the already considerable strain on his self control...

At the moment, Zhongli was barely fighting the urge to buck his hips into his wife’s hand, to grind against it for any source of satisfaction he could get.

He gripped the edge of his seat with the hand hidden from her view, knuckles turning white with exertion, and coerced his features into a calm smile. She returned it and fell back into conversation with someone on her other side, but kept her hand on his leg, tracing shapes in the fabric and driving her poor husband absolutely out of his damn mind.

He slipped into a dazed state for a minute, feeling nothing but her soft touch and the rubbing of the sensitive head of his cock against the seam of his pants.

The scraping of a chair across the table brought him back half to his senses, and he bit his cheek hard, the pain momentarily clearing his mind. He looked up from the clock his eyes had been fixed to on the far wall of the restaurant just in time to see most of the table gathering their belongings from the coat rack and hugging their goodbyes.

Mercifully, her hand then eased from its maddening position on his thigh as she arose to give her farewells; “—for the both of us, as my husband is unfortunately not feeling his best right now,” he heard her explain as she ushered the Liyue Qixing out the door with many sweet compliments to their families. He could collect himself only enough to smile and give a gentle wave as they and the rest of their dinner companions exited the parlor into the brisk night.

He then had only to wait for the check to be delivered by the waitress before he would be on his way home, one minute closer to relief, to having her under him and—

He bit back a curse. He was still here. Childe had yet to finish his umpteenth glass of expensive Snezhnayan wine and seemed to be in no rush to leave the company of Morax and his darling wife, much to his friend’s chagrin.

Liyue customs stipulated that the hosts of the table may not leave until after their last guest had quit the table, a fact that was all too inconvenient for Zhongli as he recalled it bitterly. Why did he establish that rule? That surely must have been one of Guizhong’s.

But, he thought, he had made it this far. He would not make a fool of himself now, even if it ended up being the final nail in the coffin for the man known as Zhongli.

Now that there were less prying eyes, he took the opportunity to shove his left hand between his thighs under the table and waited impatiently, biting his cheek at intervals until he drew blood. He could taste it, metallic and sharp on his tongue, and it shamed him enough to keep his composure.

And still the bastard wouldn’t leave.

Zhongli had always been in an uneasy truce with the Cryo Archon while he reigned, but at the moment he felt like socking her in the face on her subordinate’s account. Was he waiting to pay the check? Or did he just unconsciously enjoy watching his friend wallow in agony?

If the former were the case, there was no need. Even if his wife had not brought his wallet with her when she left the house that evening– always two steps ahead of her husband’s mistakes– her purse was just as able to cover the cost of dinner. So much planning and preparation had gone into tonight, he recalled with an edge of bitterness, only for his own hormonal cycle to throw a gargantuan wrench into his well-earned enjoyment.

His thoughts momentarily went blank as the tightness in his pants throbbed in time with his rabbiting heartbeat, sending whatever blood his cock could spare rushing to his cheeks and shivers down his spine. Principles above. Zhongli would never go out at this time of year again while he walked this mortal earth, he vowed.

Body desperate, mind cloudy, conscience resigned, he dimly wondered whether he could get away with rocking his hips against his hand in his current slouched position.

Before he could give in to his base urges, the check finally did come and it was paid and sent away with as much grace and elegance as the poor man could contrive while barely fighting off the desire to thrust into his own hand.

As the waitress left the room, bidding them a ‘restful night’ (Zhongli would have scoffed if his mind was clearer), his beloved yawned and stretched her arms out. He watched almost in slow motion as she let a hand drop under the table to his lap, inches from the pronounced outline in his pants, with a noise of tired contentment that went straight to his dick. He jolted from the sudden touch so close to where he needed it most, slamming the hand holding his coin purse onto the table with a conspicuous jingling of coins.

The noise drew Childe’s attention from the animated story he was telling, and he glanced from Zhongli’s tightly clenched hand to his pained expression, raising an eyebrow.

He was spared an explanation by his wife. “You’ll have to excuse my husband, he’s feeling a little off at the moment,” she murmured, caressing his amber tresses with her manicured fingernails, her knowing eyes trained on his. Zhongli could do nothing but close his own and pray that she didn’t move her other hand any lower on his lap. “I’m afraid the soup did not agree with him tonight... in any case, we shall be departing shortly to get him to bed, poor dear.”

If he was listening rather than lost in fantasies of pressing her into their mattress, he would have thought that an excellent choice of words.

Childe took the hint and pushed himself back from the table, giving his regards to both of them and gathering his belongings. To his credit, though having stayed far past his welcome in his friend’s eyes, he did not tarry long with his goodbyes.

And if the harbinger did make a noise that sounded too little like a cough and too much like poorly contained laughter on his way out of the building, Zhongli internally thanked him for keeping his suspicions to himself.

“Are you able to stand, my love?”

Her voice was a balm to his frayed nerves on any other night, but he had pushed past his limits tonight. As it was, Zhongli was undeniably coming apart at the seams. It would be a miracle if he held it together until they arrived at their home, let alone convinced his companion he was merely feeling the effects of some ill-prepared dish.

He sighed. Pride be damned, there was certainly no use in concealing what would soon come to light by more embarrassing means than these.

“Beloved, I’m afraid —” His words slid into a choked moan as she moved her hand sharply to hold him, right there, applying steady yet unmoving pressure in a way that nearly brought him to tears from mixed pain and pleasure.

“Ngh - I- You—” He swallowed a low, guttural sound that originated from his hindbrain and turned to face her, eyes clouded with lust. “You knew. I should have- ah - guessed.”

She smiled, caressing his cheek with one hand and while pressing into him with the other. “Of course I did, love. Should I not notice when my husband is in distress?” she purred. In a gentler tone, she added, “Is this helping? I don’t want to make it any more difficult for you...”

He took a moment, steadying his breathing and focusing the rest of his spent energy on her soothing presence.

“I- Mm. Yes, I- I think so.” The heat and gentle pressure of her hand had abated some of the tightness in his pants for the moment. Gingerly moving his thigh from its locked position, he found that he could put weight on it without losing his balance.

He made a motion to get up and she moved with him, adjusting her hand so that he could stand as comfortably as possible. She gathered the rest of their belongings, Zhongli standing stock-still while she tucked his wallet back into his coat pocket. He tried not to focus on the warmth of her hand over his chest and the thrumming heat that rose to meet it.

Finally, after a certain man’s longest night in centuries, they moved from the accursed dining room out into the Liyuean night. The light breeze cooled his flushed cheeks as they stood in comfortable silence in the doorway of the restaurant, watching the muted streetlights sway in the city below.

Until now, the thought of logistically how to maintain this compromising configuration while walking about the streets of Liyue Harbor had not yet crossed the foggy wasteland behind Zhongli’s dilated pupils, and it was clear by his hesitation in beginning the journey home.

“You know... you could always duck into an alleyway, if you’re that desperate,” she giggled, relishing the annoyed blush that spread across her husband’s face. Both of them knew he’d never agree to such a scheme— he, the former Geo archon, rutting in an alley like a stray tomcat...!

He barely allowed himself to entertain the thought. Restaurant bathrooms were one thing, but the moonlit streets of the city he raised from the ground? Not while he still retained an ounce of pride.

Still, the matter yet remained.

She glanced at his face, seeing the restraint that was causing his brow to knit and his jaw to tighten as he considered their options. It did cause her pain to know that her beloved was so uncomfortable, yet her own desires weren’t impervious to the thought of his growing sexual frustration and the feel of the warm length pressed against her left hand.

The ghost of a whine escaped his lips and she was shaken out of her own reverie by his obvious need for her to take initiative.

“Well then, my love, let’s get you home. Shall we?” She smiled up at him as she undid his coat buttons and wrapped one shoulder of the ample fabric around her, shielding his predicament from the world as long as she stayed close to his side. Thus prepared, she took his trembling hands in hers and tugged him along next to her as they fell into step.

Much to Zhongli’s relief, stay close she did. As they started down the restaurant steps, she felt one of his gloved hands release hers and snake around her cloaked waist to cling to her, desperate for stability.

As aware as she was that she had this powerful man in the very palm of her hand at the moment, she valiantly resisted the instinct to tease and test his resolve to maintain respectable appearances while in public.

At first, she succeeded. Until he started being unfair and moaning under his breath in the lewdest way imaginable, that is.

They were halfway to their residence and Zhongli was trying oh-so-hard to keep it together, for her sake and for his own, but for fuck’s sake, the way her hand would involuntarily stroke him when he took a step, sliding up and down his clothed shaft and making walking ten times harder than it needed to be—

“Ngh~ My-My dear, I- Mmph.”

She chanced a glimpse of his face and momentarily lost her balance, causing both of them to stumble and her husband to whine lowly at the loss of friction.

Between the sounds coming from the beautiful man next to her and the look of utter pleasure melting his expression, she decided she couldn’t keep her vow. Blushing, she gripped him harder in retaliation, which earned her a gasp.

“Please, darling, I- o-oh,” he whispered, trying very hard to glare at his assailant through the haze of lust that clouded his gaze.

Craving the gentle sounds escaping him more than her conscience could fault her for, she began moving her hand a little more purposefully with each step, rubbing him through his pants in a gentle rhythm until an uncharacteristically weak hand caught her wrist.

“N-No. No more.” He looked simultaneously aroused, angry, and pleading; he was far too close to the edge to conceal anything. “I beg, darling.”

That settled it. Slowing her pace to nothing, she ceased her teasing to instead hold him gently as her face buried itself into the warm crook of his neck. They stood there in the darkened street for a peaceful moment, no sound breaking the silence aside from the distant sounds of the commercial district and Zhongli’s panting breaths.

“My apologies. I got carried away,” she murmured into the fabric of his collar. Her breaths ghosted across his collarbone and made him shiver, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Can you keep going? Should we stop here and rest?”

He exhaled shakily, relieved at her change of heart. Had she known just what fantasies of taking his wife against the nearest wall, decorum be damned, were currently making his blood run hot, he was sure she wouldn’t feel near so much remorse for her earlier actions.

Against all odds, they arrived at their doorstep in one piece. To the empty Liyuean night, they appeared to be a newlywed couple returning from a nice night out on the town, though the husband looked to have had a few drinks too many by his mannerisms.

Zhongli fumbled with the key in his breast pocket with his other hand braced against the doorknob, almost dropping it in his uncharacteristic haste. His companion gently took his hand in hers and guided it to the lock, sliding it open with a click. A gentleman even in his current state, he ushered her in ahead of him before passing through the familiar doorway.

That disciplined façade was dropped as quickly as he could shut the door behind him. Barely remembering to turn the lock behind him, he slumped against the wall of the entryway, panting.

Sensing his inability to move on his own, she took his arm and half-carried him to their bedroom, cheeks heating from the very vocal response his body gave to her touch. He’d moan for her again like this when he was feeling better, she vowed, already planning her method of attack.

He slumped onto their freshly made bed as she propped him against the headboard and watched through clouded eyes as his wife started to undo the lacing of her intricate gown.

Feeling his gaze on her, she gave him an apologetic smile as she worked on removing her clothing. “I’m sorry, dear, I promise I’ll be there in a moment. This lace is so delicate,” she murmured, glancing down at it as if certain it would tear any second now.

She had meant to attend to him straight away, but she couldn’t bear to ruin the beautiful dress he had picked out for her, nor the jewelry that had caught her eye on their honeymoon so long ago. They were gifts from him, pieces of his love, and she could feel that love in his gaze whenever he saw how she treasured them; she knew how much it meant to him that she treated them with such care.

On most nights such as this, Zhongli would be the one removing them from her body with a tenderness that spoke to his patient nature. Tonight, however, her husband’s low and breaking voice called out from where he lay on silk sheets behind her, less composed than she had ever heard him when she wasn’t performing some act of pleasure on him.

“Please, my dear, my-my gem, I-” He swallowed thickly, biting back another moan that rose in his throat. They were getting more difficult to swallow by the moment. “I need- I won’t last much longer without-”

The desperation in his tone nearly made her fold, but she was determined not to ruin his gifts. No matter how he moaned, she thought.

As she pulled the dress over her head and moved quickly to hang it up, she heard a rustling of fabric behind her and the sound of clothing hitting the floor. By the sound of it, he’d succeeded in removing his coat, at least.

Her name fell from his lips like both a curse and a prayer as a tie and pin clattered onto the nightstand.

“Ngh- You...” he cut himself off, panting, as he unzipped his pants enough for the impressive tent in his boxers to spring out of them. “Leave me no- ah! - choice, then.” He was palming his cock with abandon now, working himself desperately through the damp material like his life depended on it. She turned from the closet just in time to see him finally ridding his erection from its confines and gasping as the cold air met his flushed, weeping head.

If he had been suppressing his sounds of arousal before now, no longer. They tore from his throat like an erotic music box, some high and needy, some like the rumbling of far-off thunder.

He tore his gloves off in annoyance, apparently not getting the friction he sought, and discarded them to the floor in a way she’d never seen him do as he stroked himself faster, chasing release.

It didn’t take long to work up to his peak, with the state he had been in all evening. His head was thrown back against the headboard, incoherent sounds forming at his lips, and in that moment, his wife thought him the perfect picture of a debauched god.

“Zh- Dear, I...” Half-conscious, she dropped the earring in her hand onto the dresser and took in the finest piece of art she’d ever seen before her. It was certainly something to witness a man like him in his moment of sheerest vulnerability. Knowing how much he needed her touch just then, she forsook the rest of her jewelry and rushed to him.

It was her name on his lips as his hips began to buck wildly and his breath hitched, tears forming in golden eyes trained on her as she knelt next to him. She pressed her forehead to his own, caressing his face and murmuring words of praise.

The knot snapped all at once, his whole body twitching and flushed and heavenly.

She held his face as he came down from his intense high, breathing heavily and holding her gaze through half-lidded eyes. An impressive amount of release decorated his bare chest, while some had landed on the unbuttoned dress shirt that still clung to his shoulders and arms. His beautiful face was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as she kissed him softly, carefully, his lips red from abuse by dragonlike fangs. Before she closed her eyes, she mentally burned the image into her brain forever.

Humming quietly as his breathing began to steady, she retrieved a towel from the cabinet of her nightstand and began tending to his slicked stomach and hands, gently cleaning the remains of his pleasure with care. Bent over his chest, she felt arms around her waist pulling her up, some of his usual strength having returned to him after his initial release. She let him. Straddling his lap in her lace undergarments, she settled herself against his hips as she helped him remove his shirt and let it fall next to the bed.

Another obstacle between them having been removed, he pulled her in by her jade necklace, meeting her lips halfway in a soft, passionate embrace. Momentarily satisfied, he shifted to target the side of her neck, trailing a line of burning kisses until he got to the offending piece of jewelry that had kept her from his side for so long.

As his warm lips met cold metal, Zhongli brought up an elegant hand and expertly unlatched the chain, laying it on the nightstand with far more control than she would have expected of him— though she caught the subtle shake in his hands as he pushed his legendary self-control to its limits.

It had been mere moments since he had come, but his body was already responding to her proximity, cock hardening at an amazing rate as she started to rock her hips against him. He groaned in response, hands coming up to grab at her thighs, feeling the effects of his rut kick in yet again.

A bead of sweat rolled down his abdominal muscles and through the neatly-trimmed trail below his navel before disappearing into gold-hemmed boxers. She watched its progress, in no hurry to quicken her pace, and migrated her fingers from his flushed cheeks to the amber strands of hair that stuck to his forehead. Smoothing them back, she smiled at him and massaged his scalp with her fingernails, eliciting lovely sounds from her husband’s parted lips.

He took the opportunity while she gazed at him so lovingly to capture her lips with his own, elongated canines nipping at her as she deepened the kiss.

Once his wife had succeeded in lulling him completely, her hand dipped between them suddenly to grab at his length and Zhongli gasped prettily into her mouth. She smirked against his lips. Fingers dancing along his shaft that flushed a beautiful gold with arousal, she teased him enough that she could feel his heartbeat rabbiting against her hand and his breathing hitch in his throat.

Taking pity, she finally moved her forefinger up to his sensitive head and swirled the bead there into his soft skin, slowly building in intensity. Before he could wince from the overstimulation, she resumed a rhythmic pace on his shaft that caused his head to fall back against the headboard with a thunk . Finally, finally, she had her hands on him and he was getting the friction he needed so desperately all evening. He could cry from relief.

Then, just as he started to feel the knot in his abdomen build once more from her steady attention, she pulled her hand away with a butterfly kiss to his nose and he whined, pulling back from her with a pitiable look in his eyes.

“-Really, darling?” His words spoke to his annoyance at being denied, but his face betrayed him, as did the breathlessness of his tone. “ Please stop teasing or I’ll- ah- ”

She cut him off with a gentle kiss to his tip that forced him to inhale sharply. Her grin was akin to a Chesire cat’s. “Or you’ll what, dearest?”

Zhongli huffed gently, his hips rocking against hers traitorously. He made no reply.

She placed a hand lovingly to his chest, tracing the markings that streaked his torso from collarbone to hip. They flushed gold under her wandering touch, thrumming with power and arousal, as well as barely-contained anticipation.

As she finally brought her eyes up to his, gaze swimming with endearment, he allowed himself to hope that his torment was over for the evening. His wife’s more teasing tendencies surely must have been satisfied by now. She did love him, didn’t she? She must feel some sympathy for her partner of so many years. She must.

“Now, let’s get you out of these pants, hmm?”

Oh, thank fuck.

His last thought was of gratitude before she helped him kick off his trousers and his mind finally, mercifully, went blank.

◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇─◇──◇─◇◇

Later that night, when the hormonal effects had mostly subsided and he lay with his exhausted wife on his chest, playing with her hair while she rested, he made a few mental notes in whatever part of his brain was lucid.

One was to buy a calendar for his office. The second was to evaluate the removal time coefficient of a gift before buying it in the future. The final was to invest in a more durable set of sheets.

And if any other thoughts crossed his mind before he succumbed to his own exhaustion, they were lost to the Liyue night.

｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─ ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆｡ﾟ

A/N: this is my first work on here! thank you for reading! <3

#pls enjoy my tribute to flustered stoic men #i wanna see em fall apart #love that old man <3 #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin zhongli #genshin x female reader

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