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Aether dolefully stared at Venti, who was occupied with woefully groaning about the grip of steel that “crushed” his ribs.
“I don’t get it,” he mused for the fifth time in ten minutes.
“Of course you don’t! Unlike me, you have your ridiculous abs out all the time!” Venti groaned, lightly flicking the mentioned muscles before collapsing on Aether like a weighted blanket. “You can’t even handle the agony of being sexy and wearing a corset simultaneously.”
Aether readily agreed and mindlessly embraced the new weight on his thorax. Was it really so awful to wear a corset? Seeking fingers traced the leather vice biting into Venti’s sleek body, slipping one, slipping two digits into the tanned oxhide. It was hot, burningly so, and the friction between his own gloved hands and the hide failed to help.
“Hmmnh…”
Hurriedly, a chaste “what’s wrong?” was pressed into Venti’s hair.
“Nothing- it’s just nice when you dig your fingers into my back like that,”
Aether huffed in relief and retracted his warmth, fueling Venti’s despair. He gently entwined his palm in strands of ombre hair and tugged, exposing the shell of Venti’s ear and kissed it as he whispered an offer.
The smattering of pink and the eager smile on Venti’s lips is so beautiful, followed with: “Oh, Archons, please give me a massage. Everything aches, Aether. Everything!”
Aether smiles so brightly it mirrors Venti’s one of relief. Both of their hands fumble with the familiar knots on Venti’s unfamiliar corset, and laugh when the tips of their fingers meet and electrify each other. Aether looks up at Venti lovingly, there are hearts and shards of light in his eyes of molten gold as he slips the corset off Venti’s slim waist. The moan Venti gave at the sensation of freedom could have sustained Aether for a millennia, drinking it in like ambrosia. Aether palms the muscles heaving at the relief.
“Wait,” Venti hushed, smile bedazzling Aether into compliancy.
And he rips his shirt off, revealing the expanse of his stomach, smooth skin and radiant heat. His pure untarnished body is devoured by Aether's ravaging eyes as he shrugs his cravat off and flings them over the couch.
Venti’s ribs are lined with strips of red, etched into his skin like a musical score composed in blood. The lines stretch and relax with each breath the bard’s bare and exposed chest takes; Aether is more than willing to trace and feel the grooves of the penmanship all over Venti’s body- he longs to scrawl new markings to the canvas of his body.
Irises composed of enslaved, biting hurricanes bore into Aether’s mora-infused ones, watching him intently. Using the sharpened tips of his bared teeth, Aether freed his hands from their thick jewel-studded confines and mindlessly abandoned his gloves somewhere on the table. From the moment Aether’s palms grazed his torso, Venti’s chest pounded as a sluggish warmth settled in his stomach and burned through his muscles, curling around his heart in a scorching grip.
Fuck , just like the vice-like constraint around his beating heart, Aether’s hot fingers charred the expanse of his form, penning words of love all over his body and soul in the wake of his touch. Aether hummed as he went, roving the expanse of Venti’s heated skin, kneading the angular bones stirring under his touch.
Venti felt like he was melting under Aether, a flame flickering anew in his cheeks, heavy in his ears, coursing through his groin like a liquid blaze. Aether looked at Venti- how he looked, with his lidded eyes of smelted honey- adoring the disarray he caused. He leaned in further; the cold gold-laced gem of his chest piece thrumming in time with Venti’s alight pulse- leaning further and further in the charged heat between them until his lips were an atom away from Venti’s.
Groping Venti’s slim sides, a small whine left the bard’s tongue; spit-glazed lips overflowing with music best left on a mansion’s couch. Venti needily ground upwards, finding relief in the muscular expanse of Aether’s abs unmarred by restricting clothes, screaming praise for Aether’s poor clothing choices.
Aether obliged, shifting his hips so that Venti could hug their bodies together, his legs straddling the muscles of Aether’s chassis, crying out at the friction between them, hot tears tracing down his paper cheeks and staining them like ink. Aether whined, hands coming to the stop at Venti’s tense, firm back. Feeling his length grind against Venti’s asshole was so fucking much, like the archon was trying to rub his consciousness out of his dick.
And the worst part was that Aether would have let him.
If Venti asked him to fall on his sword, he would have.
If Venti asked Aether to please and praise him like fleeting murmurs were permanent, he would have.
He would have done anything, hopelessly infatuated with Venti as he drooled all over himself, pleasuring himself in such an obscene way using Aether’s body. Aether gnawed at his lip brutely, a plea for Venti to crush their mouths together- tongues enveloping, swallowing everything Venti would allow him to. Aether revelled in the flavour with furrowed eyes, drinking from the God’s lips like a prized chalice; Venti’s lips spiced with the amalgamation of acrid alcohol and piquant apple rinds.
He can pinpoint the exact moment Venti’s shaking body gives a final grind, a beautiful staccato moan trembling from his spit-soaked mouth. They huff and collapse, exhausted, onto each other's trembling bodies.
"You should wear that corset more often," Aether hums.