Archive of Our Own

Everyone in Teyvat knows that, if you ever were to visit the city of Mondstadt, you'd be a total fool not to get a taste of the wine they serve there. It is said that dandelion wine is one of the finest there is in the world, and one of Mondstadt's more sought after delicacies. The sweet, yet refreshing taste of the beverage is widely appreciated by both the inhabitants of the City of Wind and Song and the travelers that happen to stop by.

So it's not that surprising to always see great movement in and out of the Angel's Share, the tavern owned by the Ragnvindr Clan. After all, they're the same family that owns and operates the Dawn Winery, where all of Mondstadt's supply of dandelion wine comes from.

A wide variety of people pick the Angel's Share as their tavern of choice when seeking wine, or other types of alcohol: tired adventurers in need of some rest that visit every once in a while. Travelers seeking a taste of the local specialties that visit once or twice, before leaving for good, replaced by new visitors. Even bards with their instruments in hand, more interested in narrating their stories and singing their songs, hoping to get money in return often spend their nights there. And of course, there are lots of knights as well, there to enjoy some leisure after a long day of work, protecting their beloved City of Freedom.

Anyone who has stopped by the Angel's share more than a handful of times knows that the tavern has a particular patron that visits often. So often that he has long been acknowledged as a regular, so often that it has become a habit for Mondstadters to walk into the establishment and expect to see those broad shoulders, blond hair and well kept armor that shimmers under the candlelight.

The staff and patrons of the Angel's Share have long learned to recognize the sound of the loud laughter of the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius and the glasses and jugs have long learned to recognize the shape of his lips.

Mondstadters are known to be heavy drinkers. But they all pale in front of Varka, the man who seems to be a master of holding down liquor just as much as he is of chivalry and knighthood.

Ever since becoming old enough to drink, Varka has turned the Angel's Share into a bit of a second home, indulging himself with alcohol to his heart's content, every hard day of work on the field being rewarded with generous glasses of wine, cider or whatever beverage sparks his interest on the tavern's menu.

Usually Varka doesn't pay heed to whatever's happening around him as he sits at the counter with a drink in hand, only greeting with a nod his fellow knights and half mindedly listening to whatever old song is being sung by whatever bard managed to perform at the Angel's Share that particular night. He knows those tales by heart, those stories about old heroes and tyrants are nothing but background noise to him, no different than the chatter of the other patrons of the tavern.

But everything changed after one particular night, back when Varka was still a simple knight. Just a young man in his late twenties with still so much to learn and to prove, a young man longing for the thrill of fights, always looking for strong foes to challenge. A young man with a wish deep in his heart to become one of the heroes those bards at the Angel's Share sing about in their songs.

Varka still remembers that night. How can he ever forget the night that completely turned his life upside down? The sky was clear, the moon was shining brightly over his precious Mondstadt, and the breeze was warm and pleasant, despite the colder season approaching. Varka remembers he thought that he particularly enjoyed the breeze that night. It smelled like flowers.

He later realized it actually smelled like him.

"Well, there you are, Varka. I was starting to wonder whether you were gonna show up tonight," Charles, the bartender, says, curiously eyeing the bandages covering the knight's arms. "What happened this time? Did you try to fight a Mitachurl with your bare hands again?" he asks, amusement clear in his tone. The knight barks out a loud laugh, eyeing his wrapped up arm, right where he knows a new scar is bound to form.

"Nah, those weaklings are no match for me no more. I've been looking for a new, exciting challenge for days now, and today I heard from a friend in the Adventurers' Guild that a Ruin Guard was found roaming around Starfell Valley, so I had to go and take a look myself."

"Based on the state you're in, I suppose you found it." The bartender points at his injuries with a nod of his head as he places a jug in front of Varka, not even waiting for the man to request his beverage of choice for the night. He knows the knight well enough to know that when he's still riding high on adrenaline after a fight, he wants something strong.

"Found that bucket of bolts at the Thousand Winds Temple and had a friendly chat with it. Let's just say it won't be causing troubles for the Adventurers' Guild anymore," he replies, ending his humorous comment with another laugh, before grabbing the jug, now filled with liquor, by the handle and taking a generous sip out of it.

After the brief exchange, Charles leaves to attend to his other customers and Varka focuses on his drink, every sip making his cheeks feel warmer and fingers feel tingly. When he reaches the bottom of his cup he's far from tipsy, let alone drunk, so he gestures the bartender by tapping his finger on the wooden counter, waiting for him to fill his cup again.

The door behind him opens, the gentle breeze from outside hitting the back of his neck first, causing goosebumps to form on the skin, and his nostrils right after, making him feel more lightheaded than the alcohol had managed to do. Varka recognizes this smell, it's a scent that every Mondstadter knows and holds dear.

Cecilia flowers.

"Good evening, my good friend. I can't help but notice that this fine establishment is in dire need of some music. Would you like me to provide it?" A cheerful voice makes Varka turn around in time to see the person who has just stepped inside the tavern.

Based on what he's wearing, what he just said, and the lyre in his hand, Varka can safely assume that they're in the presence of a bard. A few more heads turn to look at him as he makes his way towards the counter, his steps filled with the confidence of someone who acts like they own the place.

"In exchange I merely ask for a glass of your dandelion wine, for it has been a long time since I had the chance to taste it, and Barbatos only knows how much I've missed it," the bard continues as he rests one elbow on the counter, his eyes briefly landing on Varka before he goes back to looking at Charles with a charming smile on his lips.

Varka can't help but feel a little annoyed at the bard's words. He has never been too fond of people using Barbatos' name in vain, he finds it disrespectful. Still, he makes sure not to show his distaste. As a Knight of Favonius, there's a honor code he has to follow at all times, and avoiding at all costs to be rude or hostile towards anyone, may they be travelers from afar or fellow Mondstadters, is one of the most important rules to always keep in mind.

And even if that wasn't the case, Barbatos is the Archon of Freedom. He's a deity that believes in freedom so much he gave Mondstadt complete liberty to reign over itself. Varka knows that there are other Archons watching over their nations and people like monarchs. Not Barbatos, though.

So, by keeping in mind how much their Archon treasures freedom, it's only fair for the Children of Mondstadt to be allowed to use Barbatos' name as they please, as long as it's not blasphemous.

"Usually we don't offer any form of payment to bards. They earn their share by receiving offers from our patrons. You can use your earnings to buy yourself as much wine as you wish. If you manage to raise enough Mora, that is," Charles explains, never the guy to beat around the bush. The bard brings his thumb and index finger to his chin, nodding in understanding.

"Ah, I see. Then I shall play accordingly," he says as he straightens himself, walking towards the center of the room. Despite his usual indifference towards bards and their songs, Varka finds himself following the young man with his gaze, turning on his stoll to keep both eyes on him. The bard pinches a few strings on his lyre, making them vibrate with sound, probably to make sure the instrument is tuned perfectly. When he's satisfied with it, he starts playing.

It's a melody Varka's sure he has never heard before, but somehow it feels familiar and nostalgic, like something his heart has known forever and has been longing for since it has started beating. For the first time in so many years, Varka listens to a bard singing and he actually pays attention.

The bard sings about the Four Winds of Mondstadt. The topic isn't new, nor original, but the way he sings about them manages to seize the attention of every single person in the tavern. The bard speaks of the Winds like they're old friends, rather than protagonists of the myths of their Nation. His voice is clear and soothing, pleasant to the ear just as dandelion wine is pleasant to the palate, and Varka swears it almost feels like the air itself is standing still around them, as if also wanting to listen to the bard sing and fearing it could disturb him by moving around the room.

When the bard's song comes to an end, it is followed by a long, stunned silence. Even Varka, rarely impressed, find himself at loss for words. He feels like he has been listening to the bard singing for merely a few seconds and many hours at the same time. Finally, cheers erupt in the tavern, the patrons raising their glasses in appreciation, clapping their hands and cheering for the bard as he grins and bows, thanking them for their warm response to his song.

In the end, when the bard moves to sit on the stoll next to Varka's, the knight can hear the sound of Mora rattling in the man's pouch.

"I'll take a glass of dandelion wine!" he announces, clearly giddy at the prospect of having a taste of alcohol. "Even better, bring the whole bottle! Tonight I've earned enough to deserve a little treat for myself."

Charles nods as he moves towards the back to fetch the bottle, and the bard starts fetching the money from the satchel hanging from his belt.

"Don't worry about the money," Varka says, smiling kindly at the bard as he looks up at him in curiosity and surprise. "I haven't enjoyed a bard's song in a long time. So let me treat you. You can see it as my way to thank you for your song."

The bard's surprise quickly turns into amusement, his eyes glimmering with a light Varka can't quite put his hand on as he takes the bottle Charles had just brought him and uncaps it with expert hands.

"Well, how could I refuse such a generous gift from one of the valiant protectors of Mondstadt?" he asks rhetorically, filling a glass for himself. "May I know your name, oh benevolent Knight of Favonius?"

The way he's being addressed makes Varka feel flustered for some reason, so he clears his throat before attempting to answer.

"Varka. My name is Varka."

"Ah, Varka." The bard repeats. "Well, I am most pleased to meet you, sir Varka. You may call me… Venti."

Venti. Varka likes the name.

"Nice to meet you too, Venti. It's the first time I see you around here. Don't tell me this your first time playing in front of a crowd here in Mondstadt?" Varka asks, feeling genuinely curious. He's pretty certain this is the first time in his life he has the chance to be witness of a talent of the caliber of Venti's.

"Certainly not. I've just been gone for a long time. It's nice to be back home, though," Venti replies with a smile as he brings the glass of dandelion wine to his face. The hem of the cup presses against his lips as he starts drinking, and Varka observes his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with every gulp of the beverage. When he puts down the empty glass, his lips are shiny because of the liquid, and his cheeks a pretty shade of pink. Suddenly Varka feels very thirsty. "But let me say… you're a Mondstadter, and yet you fail to appreciate the beauty of poetry and music. That doesn't sound right."

There's no actual accusation behind Venti's words. More like genuine perplexion. As if it's seriously difficult for him to believe that someone might not be too fond of music, especially when they're native to Mondstadt. Despite that, Varka still feels the need to explain himself.

"It's not that." He waves his hand around. Charles fills his cup again, and he silently thanks him with a nod. "It's just that I've been spending quite some times in here. And after a while all the songs the bards sing sound the same. They all tell the same old stories."

"I must've been away for a very long time. Hopefully my marvelous performance from tonight will make everyone step up their game. I'd hate for you to keep feeling bored when listening to fellow bards."

Varka doesn't say it out loud, but he doubts any bard could step up their game enough to make him feel captured by their performance like Venti did tonight. Not even when he was a little kid, still unaware of most of Mondstadt's old tales, he had felt so enamored by a bard's song.

"I'm just saying, bards need new stories to sing about. Or new ways to sing about old stories. Otherwise people are bound to grow tired of them at some point, you know."

Venti hums softly, pondering over his words.

"I see. But you see, bards sing about the heroes of the past to keep their memories alive in the minds and hearts of the living. How can people truly honor their Nation if they have no memory of its history?" he asks, matter of factedly. "With that being said, what stories would you like them… or well, us, to sing about, if not the old ones? That's what bards do, after all. Asking bards to go against the true purpose of their nature is like asking the wind to stop blowing," Venti asks, smiling as the traces the hem of his glass with the tip of his index finger.

"Well," Varka says, taking his own cup and bringing it to his mouth. He drowns half of it, letting the suspance grow between them, before slamming the cup down on the counter. A few drops of liquor spill on the wooden surface, but none of them seem to care as Varka's light blue eyes pierce through green eyes staring at him in amusement and curiosity. "I suppose the most logical solution is for new heroes to arise. So bards can sing about them as well."

Venti lets out a giggle, amused by Varka's reply.

"And do you perhaps hope to be one of those heroes?" he asks.

"I mean, what knight doesn't? Don't we all strive for glory?" Varka asks back with a smile of his own.

"Touché." Venti raises his hands in defeat. "Then I can only wish for you to succeed, Varka. I'd love to be the one to sing your story for the people of Mondstadt to remember."

"Then I'd be sure not to let you down!" Varka raises his jug of liquor in the air. "May the wind be my witness, I shall become a knight worthy of glory and recognition. A knight every single Child of Mondstadt will be proud of."

Venti looks at him for a long moment, an unreadable smile gracing his lips as he once again fills his glass and he also raises it up in the air, mirroring Varka's motion.

"The winds have heed your call, my knight. I'm sure they'll guide you down the path of rightfulness and protect you throughout your journeys, no matter where your ambitions will take you. May the Anemo Archon bless you."

After that fateful night, the Angel's share stops being just the place where Varka drops by at the end of his days to drink, but it becomes, most importantly, where he gets to meet up with Venti.

Sometimes he gets there and finds the bard in the center of a crowd, playing his lyre and singing his songs, and Varka sits down with a drink, enjoying the performance. Sometimes he finds him sitting at the counter, right where he sat that first night, sipping wine and glancing at the door, almost as if he's waiting for Varka. In those occasions they talk just like they did the first time, getting to know each other. Varka tells him about his life, about his travels before he officially became a Knight of Favonius, his training sessions, his aspirations. Venti tells him about his own travels in return, the friends he made throughout Teyvat, poems he has written and poems he'd like to write. Sometimes they engage in petty drinking battles, under the worried scrutiny of the rest of the Angel's Share's patrons. Each time Varka steadies himself, telling Venti to be prepared to lose, and each time he's the one who has to forfeit.

The knight genuinely fails to comprehend how is it possible for someone so minute to hold down so much liquor without feeling sick. Luckily, he is a good sport, and despite Venti promising every time that he'll let Varka win next time, that next time has yet to come.

There are times that Varka arrives at the Angel's Share but Venti isn't there. In some cases the bard arrives after him, bringing inside his familiar smell of Cecilias and greeting Varka with a gentle "Good evening, oh knight favored by the winds", but most of the times, if Venti isn't there, Varka knows the bard won't come at all. Sometimes Venti would be gone for just a couple of days at the time, but most of the times Venti would disappear for weeks, if not months. To his surprise, Varka comes to the realization that his heart seems to ache rather painfully whenever he spends more than a few days without seeing his bard friend.

"Why do you stop coming for long periods of time so often? Where do you go each time?" one night he asked after an absence that lasted almost a fortnight. Venti simply smiled as he rhythmically tapped his index finger against his glass of wine.

"I'm a traveling bard, Varka. Always staying in one place would defeat the whole purpose, don't you think?" He took a sip of wine. "I like to see myself as a free spirit. As free as the wind Mondstadters and their Archon love so much. I come and go as I please, just like the wind blows as it sees fit. Besides, I have many friends, as you know. Friends that sometimes I like to spend time with."

"And I understand that. I just wish you would let me know when you're leaving for a long time," Varka admitted, trying to hide his flustered cheeks by sipping from his own cup. "When you disappear like that, I can't help but worry, thinking about you, all alone Barbatos knows where."

Despite his attempt at sounding nonchalant, Venti seemed to notice Varka's shyness, and he smiled softly as he placed a friendly hand on Varka's arm. The touch sent shivers through the knight's body.

"You don't have to worry about me, dear Varka. I can take care of myself. But if knowing my whereabouts can give you some peace of mind, I'll make sure to let you know whenever I plan to leave on a travel," Venti promised solemnly. "But fear not, my friend. Barbatos watches over me like he does with every Mondstadter and I swear on his name that I'll always be safe in the embrace of the wind. No matter how many times I leave, the wind will always guide me back to you, my precious friend, and to my beloved Mondstadt."

Venti has been gone for over a month now. Varka still remembers the night he told him he was gonna head southwest, towards the neighboring nation of Liyue.

"I'm going to Liyue Arbor to visit an old friend. He's an old guy obsessed with antiques, and as much as he tries to pretend otherwise, he loves talking about the good old times in front of a glass of dandelion wine. Too bad he's too lazy to drag himself all the way here, I would've loved to introduce the two of you."

Considering how long it has been, that conversation about the good old times must be lasting way longer than imagined. With a sigh, Varka steps out of the Knight of Favonius' headquarters, rubbing his aching neck with his hand. Lately there have been many Hilichurls attacks in the Wolvendom area, so the Knights have been working non stop to put an end to that. It's not the fighting that bothers him, but rather the excruciatingly long hours spent sitting at a desk as he wrote down report after report on the matter that the Grandmaster had requested him to draft.

"If I ever become Grandmaster, I'll have to find someone to deal with all the paperwork in my stead. This is torture," he whispers to himself, making his way towards his usual destination, the Angel's Share.

He's about to start descending the many stairs leading to the lower part of the city, when suddenly a gust of wind ruffles his hair, making him turn around, perplexed. The windmills are unmoving, which is strange. There's always at least a little bit of breeze in the City of Wind. Varka can't remember the last time he has seen the windmills idle. Especially since he has clearly just felt the wind himself.

What is going on? he thinks, right before being startled by another gust of wind, the gentle force of it making him almost stumble backwards, up the flight of stair he just now descended. This is no normal wind, that's for sure.

He turns around, taking a few, uncertain steps up the stairs, and this time the breeze gracing his skin feels gentler, as if complimenting him for getting a clue.

"Are you guiding me somewhere?" he asks to no one in particular, looking around in search for an answer to his question. In response, the wind ruffles his hair, almost as if playing with it, which makes him chuckle, as he resumes walking upwards, wherever the wind wishes him to go.

As a Mondstadter and worshipper of Barbatos, it's only natural for Varka to believe that the wind has a mind and soul of its own. No inhabitand of the City of Freedom would ignore such a strong call coming from the wind itself. Even though this is the first time Varka is witness of the wind behaving in such fashion. He feels confused, and curious. But not scared. So he marches forward, following whatever path the wind is leading him down.

Not without feeling some amusement, Varka is reminded of all the times Venti has called him 'Knight favored by the winds'. Varka had always accepted the affectionate nickname. After all, the Knights of Favonius are the protectors of Mondstadt. Of course the Winds, so dear to their Archon, would favor them.

But right now, with the wind quite literally communicating with him, taking him somewhere he doesn't even know, Varka can't help but feel his heart swelling with emotion and anticipation. What if Lord Barbatos' is behind this strange occurrance? What if this is Lord Barbatos' will?

Varka straightens himself, trying to be prepared to whatever is to come. But to be fair, it's difficult to remain solemn when there's a cheeky breeze toying with his hair and clothes, making its way down each layer of clothing and caressing his skin, giving him goosebumps. Leaves and petals are being carried around by the wind, and they're quite literally tickling him wherever they manage to reach, and despite not being a ticklish person, Varka can't help but let out a small laugh.

Suddenly, the breeze stops, each and every leaf and petal falling to the ground around Varka's feet, the air as still as it was when he had just left the Knights of Favonius' headquarters. The knight looks around, lost and perplexed. He's near the plaza of the Favonius Cathedral.

"Where to, now?" he aimlessly asks, his voice soft and low. It's pretty late in the night, and no one is around. Usually by this time everyone is either at home resting or enjoying a drink either at the Angel's Share or the Cat's Tail. Still, Varka would rather avoid someone noticing him talk to himself in the middle of a deserted plaza. It would be difficult to explain that he was talking to the wind. "Why did you take me here?" he insists, taking a few steps forward, still looking around.

A single white petal flies in the air moved by the gentlest blow of wind, nothing compared to the previous gusts pushing him forward, circling around him a couple of times, before caressing his lips and flying away, up in the night sky. Varka watches it until it disappears from sight, touching his bottom lip, perplexed.

He's about to turn around and leave, ready to forget this strange event, when the faint, yet familiar, sound of a lyre being played makes him stop in his tracks.

Could it be..?

Varka steps forward, towards the center of the plaza where the huge Anemo Archon statues stands, watching over Mondstadt. The knight looks up, out of habit, and what he sees makes him do a double take.

Venti is on top of the statue, sitting on Barbatos' hands, playing his lyre with the most relaxed expression ever on his face. As if he's not sitting many meters over the ground. As if he's not sitting on a God's statue as if he owns it.

"What in the-" he whispers to himself as he makes his way towards the statue, stopping at its feet. It's tall, too tall. And Venti is still playing his lyre. The only way to get his attention from down here it would be to yell. But that could startle the bard, making him fall down, or worse, notify someone of what's going on and potentially put Venti in a very awkward position with the Knights of Favonius. Varka hasn't read their whole handbook of rules, he admits it, so he's not sure there's any specific rule on the matter, but he's pretty certain that climbing the statue of the Anemo Archon and sitting on it must be at least a little frowned upon.

Unfortunately for him, there's only one logical solution.

I must be insane.

He starts climbing.

It doesn't take long, Varka's height and agility help him make it to Barbatos' hands in just a couple of minutes. He doesn't even have a labored breath.

"I didn't take you for a climber. You always manage to surprise me," he says, trying to jest despite the absurdity of the situation. He can't deny it, as much as he'd rather have his feet safely on the ground, instead of precariously placed on the hands of a statue depicting a divinity, he's happy to finally see Venti after so long.

"Bold of you to assume I climbed all the way up here. Unlike you, I lack the physical strength to climb a 20 meters tall statue, my friend." Venti turns just enough to send him a smile. He tilts head, gesturing for Varka to approach. "Come closer. It is said that those that sit on Barbatos' hands are destined to be beloved by the Anemo Archon."

"You know, I think Barbatos wouldn't be too fond of people climbing his statue and sitting on it," he admits, but despite his words, he cautiously moves forward, sitting next to Venti.

"And I think that he would find the situation quite amusing." Venti sends him a playful wink. "Look. From here you can see Windrise. When this statue was built, they made sure it would point in that specific direction. What a nice little detail, eh?"

Varka smiles at him. He feels his heart swelling in his chest. He had truly missed Venti.

"If you didn't climb the statue, how did you get up here, mh?" he asks. Venti shrugs with a grin, lifting the pendant hanging from his belt. Under the moonlight, the teal green orb shimmers upon the touch of its owner.

"Let's say that the wind lent me a hand."

Varka stares at the Anemo Vision Venti was showing him, brows furrowed in confusion. How did he fail to notice that Venti had a Vision? Has it always been there?

"So, how has Mondstadt been in my absence? Nothing out of the ordinary, yes?" Venti asks cheerfully, once again focusing on his lyre and playing a few notes. Varka would rather not answer, and remain silent, basking in the pleasant smell of the night air and the soothing sound of Venti's music, but he understands his friend's curiosity.

"Nothing out of the ordinary." He confirms. "Everything has been pretty uneventful. The only difference that your absence has brought, is a decrease in sales of dandelion wine at the Angel's Share. I'm pretty sure Crepus Ragnvindr will be thrilled to know you're back."

His jest makes Venti burst out laughing, the sound as pleasant as the melody he was just now playing on his lyre. Varka loves making Venti laugh. More than anything he loves the sound of his laughter, but he also loves the way his nose wrinkles as his face morphs into an amused expression. He loves how Venti laughs with his whole body, often resting his hand and forehead agaist Varka's shoulder, looking for support in case he might fall off his stoll (or, in this case, off Barbatos' hands).

"I would like to believe that good old Crepus missed more than just my Mora, Varka. I'd rather be remembered because of my talent with music and poetry than my ability to drink alcohol."

"I mean, one could argue that the way you drink that much alcohol without batting an eye could be considered a talent worthy of recognition as much as your artistic ones." Varka lets out a laugh, amused by his own words and Venti follows suit with a laugh of his own.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Venti jokingly pats Varka's arm, before shifting on his seat, probably searching for a more comfortable position. The movements makes him scoot closer to Varka, their elbows brushing as they sit closer than they've ever done. The proximity makes it impossible for the knight to ignore the warmth radiating off Venti's body, and the usual scent of Cecilias. "To be fair, I've been missing the Angel's Share just as much its owner has been missing me. Liyue has some good wines, but I must admit that osmanthus wine doesn't make it for me. My friend really tried to make me like it, he said it's a flavor that eventually anyone can grow fond of, but… meh." He shrugs. "I still prefer dandelion wine."

"Well, I don't have dandelion wine on me, unfortunately," Varka says with a sigh, fetching a small flask from the inner pocket of his uniform and hands it to his friend. "But I suppose that a little taste of Mondstadt will do, at least until the next time we get to go to the Angel's Share."

"Oh, would you look at that!" Venti giggles cheerfully as he takes the flask, his fingers brushing against Varka's with purpose. It makes the knight blush. "Don't tell me you drink while on the job, you naughty knight!" he singsongs, uncapping the small bottle and sniffing the beverage inside.

"No, of course not!" Varka is quick to defend himself. "The Grandmaster would kill me. But you know, you never know when you might need to offer someone a drink. A good knight is always prepared."

Venti brings the bottle to his lips, sipping the liquor. A drop of the beverage escapes from the corner of his mouth, traveling down his cheek and jawline. Varka follows it with his gaze, watching as Venti hands him back the flank and bring his thumb to his face, capturing the small drop and subsequently licking his finger clean.

"And you are a very good knight indeed," he says with a wink. He must've realized that Varka was staring, if the look he's sending him is any indicator, so Varka is quick to look away. "So that's it? Was the head of the Ragnvindr Clan the only one who missed me in over a month?" Venti asks after a long silence, his upper body leaning slightly forward so he could better look at the knight's face.

Varka musters his courage and dares to look at him as well. The bard is smiling, his aqua green eyes half lidded as he stares at him up and down. As if trying to impress every single detail in his memory.

Varka can feel blood rushing to his cheeks, so he's quick to avert his gaze once again.

He's not blind. He knows Venti is beautiful. It's one of the first things he had noticed about him. His features are soft and youthful, his skin fair and flawless, like the one of a porcelain doll. His lashes are long and black, caressing his cheeks every time he bats his eyes. His hair shiny and soft looking, to the point that many times the knight has found himself wishing to run his hand through it. And his body… despite his clothes being simple and modest, enough is shown to make the mind wander.

"Of-" He clears his throat, trying to make his voice sound less shaky. "Of course I missed you as well. You know that already," he mumbles. Small hands sneak their way around Varka's arm, and suddenly Venti's chest is pressing against the knight's biceps.

"Look at you, getting all flustered!" Venti is cooing at him, petting his arm like one would do with a puppy. Despite their size difference, Venti's demeanor makes him feel small under that aqua green gaze. "Who would've thought you could get so shy when talking about feelings, uh?"

Varka clears his throat, trying to focus on anything other than the pretty man invading his personal space, the way his fingers send shivers down his spine or, worse, the way his warm breath is caressing Varka's skin, seeping through the layers of his clothes.

"Venti-" he manages to say, but the bard has plenty to say himself.

"You know, I've performed a few times, back in Liyue Harbor. There's so many tea houses and restaurants where a bard looking for a quick Mora can sing his songs," he whispers. With every sentence, he gets a little closer, and Varka is starting to take into consideration the possibility of jumping off the statue just so he could escape from the situation.

This is inappropriate. This is so inappropriate, to be so close to someone in public. On top of Barbatos' statue, no less! Anyone could see us. Anyone could see us!

"But after a couple of times I came to the realization that I was bored." Varka sends Venti a quick glance, and finds the bard looking back at him, batting his lashes. "It was soooo boring to perform there, in front of all those people, without you there." He sighs, almost pitifully.

"Venti, maybe we should-"

"I love performing for you. You look so cute when you watch me perform. You're always so focused and amazed, your eyes are so full of wonder and you even stop drinking, because your attention is on me and me only." At this point Venti is whispering in his ear. "It almost feels like you're worshiping me, Varka," he almost purrs, his lips leaving a featherlight kiss right at the base of Varka's neck.

All the blood that Varka previously felt rushing to his cheeks is now traveling down, concerningly.

He feels like cursing himself for getting in this situation.

But then he remembers how he got in this situation in the first place.

The wind brought him here.

Maybe this was all a test. Maybe Barbatos wanted to test his resolve. See if he was a worthy knight. If he was prone to falling for temptation.

With one swift (and daring) motion, Venti lifts his leg and rotates his body so he's straddling Varka's lap, his thighs almost straining to fit around Varka's own thick ones. The sight they make… it sure is something.

"Would you like to do that, mh?" Venti asks. "Worshiping me, I mean. I bet you'd be so good at it." He cups Varka's cheeks between his hands, his eyes filled with adoration as he looks at the knight's face. "Chanting my name like a prayer, giving me all I ask of you and more, taking what I give and being grateful for it. Would you like that?"

All those years spent training his self control get easily thrown out the window, his resolve melting like snow under warm sunlight when Varka finds himself looking into Venti's eyes, the bard smiling softly as he waits for his reply.

And Varka knows that this is his chance. That Venti is offering him a way out, that he just needs to say the word and this will be over. The touching, the flirting, this whole conversation. He can prove that he's above his impulses. He can pass Barbatos' test and show that he's a man with morals, a knight that can resist temptation.

He just needs to say no.

But then his eyes leave Venti's and fall on his lips instead. Those pink, slick with saliva, inviting lips. His hand, that he had instinctively placed on Venti's back to prevent him from falling when the bard had climbed over his lap, moves a little lower and he feels the straps of Venti's corset. That corset that so deliciously highlights Venti's figure.

Why must temptation be so… tempting?

Barbatos is a benevolent Archon. He will forgive me.

"I- yeah. Yeah, I would. Please." He nods obediently, and then he holds his breath, impatient to see Venti's next move.

Venti chuckles softly, visibly pleased by the answer.

"Good boy," he murmurs. Then he sneaks one hand behind Varka's neck and pulls him down for a kiss.

Now, Varka has kissed before. Both men and women actually. Mostly women though. But no one, man or woman, has made him feel quite as breathless as Venti manages to do with a simple peck of the lips.

Despite the fact that Venti is still comfortably sitting on Varka's lap, the kiss feels nice and chaste. Simply two people pressing their lips together. And yet, Varka swears he can feel liquid fire in his veins as he holds Venti close more firmly, making their chests touch. The flask he was holding, the one that he had offered to Venti and that was given back to him, escapes his grasp, his left hand moving to join his right one where it seems to fit perfectly, on Venti's back. Right above the inviting curve of his ass. He faintly hears the sound of metal hitting the ground below them. Not that he cares that much, right now.

Varka should've imagined that things were bound to go downhill fast.

It doesn't take Venti that long to deepen the kiss, his warm tongue first sliding expertly over Varka's bottom lip and then making its way inside his mouth. Varka can still taste the liquor in his breath and fuck, he'll never be able to drink this brand of liquor without being reminded of this kiss. He has never felt like this before. If he could smell Venti's flowery scent before, now he feels completely engulfed by it, as if it's clinging to his clothes and skin. Like he's being branded. Venti's body is warm against his, despite their many layers of clothing, the proximity making it impossible for Varka's growing arousal to-

"Oh my…" Venti murmurs against his lips, the glee clear in his tone. Varka opens his eyes, trying to pierce together his memories and remember when he had closed them, expecting Venti to be looking at him. But Venti's eyes are downcast, looking at the pretty evident bulge in Varka's pants.

Safe to say, Varka is mortified.

"So excited already?" Venti asks, tilting his head to the side. He plants another kiss on Varka's lips, open mouthed and definitely less chaste than the first one. "You're so eager to show me how good you want to be for me."

Varka doesn't have the heart to tell him that his body is simply reacting to all the stimuli it's receiving, and he also doesn't have the chance to tell him, because Venti's greedy lips find their way back on his once again, his tongue exploring his mouth.

A strangled moan escapes Varka's lips when he feels the gentle brush of Venti's fingertips over his growing erection, and the knight genuinely fears that, if he keeps getting touched and teased like this, the tent forming in his pants might be too much for the fabric of his crotch to handle, making it rip to shreds.

"Please…" He sighs when Venti breaks the kiss to focus on kissing his neck instead, leaving a trail of saliva wherever his mouth goes. His body convulses, almost losing its balance when the bard's teeth gently scratch a spot behind his ear. "Fuck-" he curses under his breath, instinctively flexing his fingers against Venti's back. Pulling him closer. Making it impossible for him to escape. Venti hums in appreciation, and Varka can feel the ghost of a smile pressing against his skin.

"Oh so this is the spot, mh?" he mumbles, almost to himself, before he resumes his ministrations over that one sweet spot.

Varka is not an experienced man. It might sound weird that, despite being a handsome young man well into adulthood, he has never experienced the pleasures of the flesh. But to be fair, he has always been more focused on his training, then his travels, and then more training. And yes, even though he has had his fair share of experiences with kissing, and even some make out sessions, it has never gone any further than that. Varka likes to drink and have fun, just like most knights and adventurers, so it's not weird for them to have one too many drinks and become a little too handsy with each other. It's nothing serious. Just young people having fun. Most of the men he has kissed in his life are fellow knights he exchanged kisses with out of goliardery rather than actual heat of the moment.

All of this to say, Varka feels definitely out of his element right now. He's not exactly sure he can fully comprehend what Venti is doing or how he's doing it, for all that matters, and he fails to understand how is it possible that Venti kissing his neck can feel this good, but his rational side trying to figure out whatever's going on gets promptly silenced by his more instinctive one, the one trying to enjoy the moment while it lasts.

Venti's alternating soft and gentle kisses with bites, sometimes he even sucks on his skin, and it makes the area feel all sensitive and tingly. Whatever this is, it feels divine, the assault on that sensitive spot on his neck makes him melt under the bard's expert touch, his head tilting backwards to leave Venti more room to continue as he pleases.

"Venti… oh- shit, Venti…" he repeats over and over, like a prayer, the words coming out of his mouth definitely incoherent, but somehow they seem to greatly please the man on top of him.

"Just like that. Love how you pray for me," Venti whispers under his breath, blowing against the sensitive skin, and Varka feels goosebumps forming on the wet spot. Venti doesn't waste much time and resumes his relentless attack on Varka's neck, but something's pocking at the back of the knight's mind, a little nagging voice speaking to him. What is it saying? It's so difficult to focus when your body is feeling so many things at the same time. Maybe his brain is just trying to tell him to do something, instead of simpy sitting there like an idiot, begging Venti to do… what exactly? Whatever he pleases? That doesn't sound so bad. Venti seems to know what he's doing, and Varka can only take what Venti gives, enjoying the feeling of his mouth on his skin, the pleasant breeze ruffling his hair, the warmth and softness of Venti's body against his, in stark contrast with the cold and hard feeling of the marble he's sitting on, and-

Wait.

Wind? Marble?

Shit.

"Fuck, Venti…" He tries to say, gently placing his hands on Venti's shoulders, but a sneaky bite teasing a patch of skin behind his eat makes Varka's eyes roll to the back of his head, whatever word of protest coming to his lips morphing into a shameless moan. "V-Venti, we… maybe we should stop."

It's like a magic word. The moment he says that, Venti's lips immediately leave their spot on Varka's neck, the bard sitting very still and very straight on his lap, putting as much distance as possible between the two of them. Varka can almost feel Venti scoot back, shifting more towards his knees than his thighs, so he has to hold him more securely to avoid the two of them losing their already precarious balance and falling down the statue.

"Is everything okay? Have you changed your mind? Was it too much?" Venti is bombarding him with questions, staring at him with eyes open wide. The cheeky glint in his eyes from before is gone, replaced by worry, uncertainty and… regret? "Was it uncomfortable? Did I hurt you? Let me see." He cups Varka's face, gently tilting his head to the side to look at his neck.

Fuck, now Varka feels bad. He didn't mean to upset Venti, damn it.

"No, I- it's fine. Venti, I'm fine," he promises, catiously taking his hands off Venti's back and gently taking his wrists instead, trying to soothe him. "This is fine. More than fine, actually. You're amazing and… fuck, I don't know, but… it's cool." Every single word coming out of his mouth makes him cringe. Why is he so fucking awkward? Thankfully, Venti doesn't seem to share the sentiment. Instead, he relaxes, his worry replaced by wary confusion.

"Why did you want to stop, then?" he asks.

Despite everything, an awkward laugh escapes Varka's lips. Maybe it's because of the turmoil in his heart, too many emotions clashing in his chest and too much blood pooling between his legs instead of being in its rightful place inside his brain, the absence making his thoughts foggy and incoherent. Maybe it's simply his weak attempt at calming Venti down and reassuring him that he's okay. Or maybe it's just the way he is, a person that reacts with a laugh in front of any kind of situation, may it be a horde of Abyss Mages charging at him or the most beautiful man he has ever seen sitting on his lap. Varka doesn't know. Still, he laughs.

"I dunno… I just think that maybe we shouldn't be doing this stuff on Barbatos' statue. It feels… kinda blasphemous," he admits, scratching his nape. Venti stares at him for a long moment, eyes filled with surprise, before he lets out a laugh of his own, filled with relief and amusement.

"Oh Varka," he says, fondly. "Trust me, I'm pretty sure that the God of Freedom would be thrilled to know that his people feel free to love whoever they want, wherever they want." He leans forward, kissing Varka on the lips. A fleeting little peck that lasts for less than a heartbeat. Still, it makes Varka wish for more. "And, most importantly, however they want," he adds with a smirk.

The promise behind Venti's word is clear in his tone. It makes Varka's manhood twitch in interest between them.

"But, you're not wrong. Someone could see us. And they probably wouldn't be as lenient as Barbatos on the matter. We should go somewhere more… private." Venti brings his index finger to his chin, feigning deep thoughts. "We certainly can't go to your place. You live in the Knight of Favonius' Headquarters' right? I'm pretty sure this late at night they must be pretty… crowded."

"Yeah. You can say that." Varka nods, running a hand through his hair in a desperate attempt to look unaffected by the absurdity of the situation. They're talking so casually, as if they're not discussing where to go so they can resume doing… what, exactly?

Whatever they were doing. Possibly something else. Something more. Something Varka had never thought could happen with a man. Not one as beautiful as Venti, that's for sure.

"We can go where I'm staying, then. I don't have a home here in Mondstadt, but when I stay in the city I book a room in a small hostel near the Angel's Share." Venti seems satisfied with his plan, because he's immediately climbing off Varka's legs, with an ease and nonchalance of someone completely unbothered by the fact that his legs are hanging 20 meters over the ground. Varka feels his breath getting stuck in his throat, immediately extending his arms to assist Venti and make sure he doesn't fall off the statue. "It's set then. Let's go."

"Wait! For Barbatos' sake, Venti, wait a second!" Varka literally begs him, almost immediately regretting his choice of words.

What an awful moment he picked to invoke his Archon's name…

"What?" Venti looks at him, confused by his hesitance.

"We can't just… walk together inside the hostel like that. Someone might see us!"

Varka's desperation must be evident in his expression, because Venti looks at him for a long moment, before nodding his head once.

"Mh, sounds fair. It's not like we're doing anything wrong per se, but we don't want any rumors spreading around, right?"

"Right." Varka nods back. Now that there's a safe distance between his body and Venti's, his mind is working more and more clearly, and taking into consideration how complicated the situation is, Varka is genuinely wondering whether this ordeal is worth the hassle.

As if reacting to the thought, his half hard dick aches in protest, confined in his pants. The message is clear: yes, whatever is about to happen is totally worth the hassle.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind taking a stroll outside the city and see where the wind take us. I bet that sex under the moonlight must be pretty nice." Venti doesn't look nearly as ashamed by his words as Varka feels. How can someone be so… unbothered by this type of conversations? "But it's your first time, and you deserve better than sex against a tree or something."

Varka feels his cheeks warm up in shame.

"How do you- it's not my-" He stammers on his words, flustered. Venti smiles at him, softly.

"Varka, I can tell it's your first time. No offense, but you got all worked up because of a few kisses on the neck. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

Varka wants to argue and defend his honor, but when he lowers his gaze, his own bulge makes him shut up. Venti's not wrong. He did get excited over nothing.

Before he could even begin to wallow in his own self pity, a soft kiss is placed to his cheek, gentle fingers caressing his shoulder in the gentlest way possible.

"Nothing to be ashamed of. I love how well you respond to my touch. How eager you are. And I can't wait for us to get to the actual fun part." Venti reassures him with velvety voice, his lips still close to Varka's face, caressing his cheek with every word he spoke. Varka turns his face around in time to see Venti smiling at him, almost playfully. Suddenly, his eyes grow wide in excitement. "I have an idea! I could just walk into my room normally, open the window for you and you could climb inside!"

Varka blinks. He waits. Waits for Venti to laugh, say it was just a joke.

He doesn't.

"You want me to climb a building and… enter your room through the window?" he asks.

"I mean, you made it up here with no sweat, I'm pretty sure you proved you're a pretty good climber," Venti tries to reason with him, nodding his head, more and more convinced with his plan. "C'mon, it's not like it's a ten story building! It's on the first floor, you'll be fine!"

"How do I even recognize your window? Everyone's window is open tonight, it's the middle of the summer!"

"I'll hang something outside or something! You'll figure it out." He picks up his lyre and stands up, playing afew notes. As he does that, a wind current forms right under the statue and Venti jumps down, his wind glider appearing from under his cape and he elegantly lands on the ground.

"Wait-"

"I'll see you there!" He cheerfully waves at Varka, before walking away, humming under his breath.

Well, shit.

Varka runs a hand thorugh his hair, trying to make sense of everything that went down in the last… half an hour?

Venti kissed him. Venti is attracted to him. Venti wants to have sex with him.

Varka pinches his cheek, right where Venti previously planted a kiss. The pinch doesn't hurt, but it's hard enough to prove that he is, in fact, not dreaming.

Well, shit.

"Varka? Is that you?" A startled voice makes Varka flinch in surprise and lower his gaze to see his fellow Knight of Favonius and friend Frederica stand right under the statue. "What are you doing up there, are you crazy?!"

Perfect. Right when Varka thought things couldn't get any crazier, now someone has spotted him right on top of Barbatos' statue. And he has an erection.

"Oh, I was just… you know… the view is nice from up here, so…"

Even from a distance, Varka can see his friend raise an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Come back down right this instant," she orders. With a sigh, Varka climbs back down. As he approaches the young woman, he tries to fix his pants as he can, in a weak attempt to hide the bulge in his pants. "What has gotten into you? Climbing on top of Barbatos' statue? What if someone saw?" she scolds him, and Varka almost feels like a kid under her strict gaze.

"I mean… it is said that those who sit on the statue's hands are meant to be beloved by the Anemo Archon, so…" he tries to smile, telling her that same (questionable) trivia Venti told him just half an hour ago.

Frederica doesn't look impressed. Actually, she looks bewildered.

"What on earth are you saying? Are you drunk again?" she asks, leaning forward to sniff him to see if he smells of alcohol. Her brows furrow in confusion, and Varka's pretty sure he knows why. "Why do you smell like… Cecilias?" Varka opens his mouth to answer, but before he can even try to find an excuse, she lifts her hand, shutting him down. "Wait, you know what? Don't answer. I really don't want to know." She sighs. "Just go. Be thankful I'm not ratting you out to the Grandmaster."

"You won't? Really? I am thankful, actually." Varka can't help but smile. Frederica isn't exactly a friendly person. Varka's not entirely sure she considers him a friend, to be completely honest. The fact that she's willing to cover up for him is maybe one of the nicest things she has ever done for him.

"I said go. Lunatic," she mumbles under her breath, but there's no actual malice behind her words. Although she does look a little over the edge, so Varka quickly steps back.

"I'll see you tomorrow." He turns around and walks away. Frederica might be nice to him sometimes, but still… she is scary. Varka really hoped that her relationship with Seamus would make her warm up, even a little bit, but apparently Seamus is the only one worthy of witnessing her gentler side.

Now, back to his main focus. Getting to Venti's room. The walk towards the hostel mentioned by the bard is quick and, thankfully, uneventful. He stops in front of the building and, just like he had imagined, almost every single window is open. Varka sighs, staring at each and every one of them, looking for Venti's. The high-pitched sound of a window creaking open a little wider catches the knight's attention, and that's when he spot a familiar patch of green hanging from the window's handle. The simple hat with golden embroidery and a white flower attached to it is impossible to miss. That must be Venti's window.

Varka rubs his hands together to brace himself for the climb and, despite Venti's reassurance, the task proves to be harder than expected, especially with the threat of being spotted by either one of the other guests of the hostel, or by someone walking out of the Angel's Share. When he finally manages to climb inside the room, Varka lets out a relieved sigh and rubs his shoulder.

"Seriously, next time we need to find a better solution, because this was a really risky id-" Varka stops mid sentence when he finds himself facing the bed.

The bed where Venti is lying.

The bed where Venti is lying completely undressed.

Varka takes a step back, taken by surprise, and his hand flies to his face in a useless attempt to cover his flustered cheeks. Venti is smiling at him, toying with the hem of the bedsheet covering his waist, the thin white fabric the only thing protecting the bard's modesty from sight.

"Already thinking about 'next time', Varka?" he asks amusedly.

And fuck, Varka did indeed say 'next time'. He really is thinking about next time. He doesn't even know if Venti will be impressed enough this time to bother with a second time. That was such a stupid thing to say!

"I- Sorry, I meant- I didn't mean-"

"It's okay. I know what you meant." Venti shushes him and sits up, the bedsheet shifting slightly on his lap, but staying in place. Now that the surprise from before is mostly gone, Varka takes his time to admire the absolute perfection in front of him. Venti's body looks as lovely as he had imagined it. His skin looks soft and smooth. The faint abs on his stomach are flexed because of the way he's sitting. The delicious curve of his hips is hidden under the bedsheet, and Varka feels his mouth go dry because he seriously can't believe that someone so beautiful is actually there, right in front of him. "Come here, my knight." Venti breaks the silence and gestures Varka to approach with a gesture of his hand. "Let's get you undressed."

And well, Varka is only a man.

A man trained to obey orders. So he's quick to comply, stepping towards the bed and obediently kneeling on top of it, bringing his hands to his jacket to take it off.

Venti's hand are immediately on top of his, helping him remove the garment, and with a swift motion Varka is suddenly lying on his back, Venti smiling on top of him.

"Let me do it," he whispers and lowers himself to kiss Varka on the mouth. It's a kiss as heated as the one they previously shared on Barbatos' statue, and Varka can once again feel that hot trail of thrill running through his veins as he shivers under the the featherlight touch of Venti's hands over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt.

One piece of clothing after the other gets removed and discarded out of the way until Varka is completely naked as well. At some point throghout Venti's task, Varka had interrupted the kiss, pressing his lips on the skin of the bard's neck and leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses down his neck and clavicles. The inviting smell of Cecilias is inhebriating from this close, Varka swears he can almost taste it every time his tongue laps at the skin of Venti's left clavicle. He's not exactly sure of what he's doing, he's definitely not as skilled as Venti is on the matter, but despite that, Venti doesn't seem to mind, if the little sighs and moans escaping his lips are any indicator.

"So good to me," Venti whispers in appreciation, tilting his head backwards and placing a hand on Varka's chest, right above his heart. "So gentle, so careful…"

If he wasn't for the fact that he's worried he might sound stupid, saying this out loud, Varka would tell Venti that he can't help but be so gentle. Venti feels so delicate under his touch. So frail. The softness of his body is in stark contrast with the roughness of Varka's own body and Varka feels a little too aware of that.

So he simply remains silent, gently caressing Venti's sides with his fingertips as he studies the absolute perfection in front of him, engraving every single detail to mind. A while ago, Varka had noticed Venti has freckles. They're not very evident, they're easy to miss if you're not careful. But after you know they're there, your eyes can't help but be drawn by them. And now Varka is delighted to notice that Venti was hiding more of those. Little light brown dots that almost look like flakes of pure gold are spread over Venti's shoulders, forming abstract patterns. Also, there's light blue marking decorating Venti's body, on his chest and thighs. Maybe tattoos he got in a faraway Nation. It almost looks like they glow under the moonlight coming through the window. Varka likes them. And he decides to show his appreciation by lowering his head and leaving a soft kiss over the diamond shaped marking on Venti's chest.

Gentle hands run through Varka's hair, moving his fringe away from his forehead, and Varka lifts his gaze to look Venti in the eyes. Sometime while Varka was distracted admiring him, the bard's cheeks had turned a pretty shade of pink, and now his eyes are staring lovingly at the man under him.

"God, look at you." Venti sighs happily, toying with a strand of blond hair. "There's so many things I'd love to do to you. But not now. We'll have time for that, and right now I'm feeling too impatient for foreplay." Venti shuffles on top of Varka, settling comfortably right above his hips. Like this, Varka has a perfect view of Venti's erection standing proudly between them, and his own erection is almost touching Venti's behind. The proximity is enough to make him shudder. "Let's get you inside me."

Those simple words manage to do something that Varka didn't even think was possible: they make him grow even harder. The prospect is exciting, but it also raises a few concerns in his brain.

He's no expert when it comes to sex, but he knows some things. Knights talk among each other; when it's time to unwind in front of a warm meal or a jug of beer, experiences get shared. And sure, Varka never had anything to say himself, but he has heard plenty to know that sex is not that easy. Regardless of the type of… entrance that is going to be used, some type of preparation is always involved.

"Wait," he says, bringing one hand to Venti's arm and gently taking a hold of it to make sure he has the man's attention. Once again, when faced with hesitance, Venti goes immediately still, his eyes meeting with Varka's to study his expression in search of any type of discomfort. "Shouldn't I do… something for you first?" he asks.

Venti blinks a couple of times, perplexed.

"Something for me? You mean like… pleasuring me?" Venti's eyes leave Varka's for a split second, landing on his own dick, before going back to the man's face.

"No. I mean, yeah, kind of. Not like that though. More like, uhm… you know. So I don't hurt you." Varka cringes at his own awkward, half-assed explanation. He'd be genuinely surprised if Venti manages to understand what he means simply by… that.

As if proving his point, Venti stares at him with a lost expression, brows furrowed as he tries to make sense to what Varka just said. But then, something seems to click in his mind, his eyes going wide.

"You mean, like, prepping me?" he asks. Varka is both impressed by Venti's ability to understand him and astounded by his own idiocy.

Why couldn't he just say it like that?

"I mean, isn't that what you do before doing… it?" he says, gently rubbing Venti's arm. "Don't take what I'm about to say as me bragging, but I'm not exactly… small, you know."

A long silence falls between them, and suddenly Venti is laughing. So hard he's actually bending over, forehead pressing against Varka's shoulder, and the knight can feel against his chest the way Venti's body is shaking with every fit of laughter.

He turns his head, embarrassed. He once again managed to make himself look like a damn fool.

"Please don't laugh at me," he begs, lifting his free arm to cover his face so he can hide his shame. To his defense, Venti tries to sober up at that, but when he moves Varka's arm out of the way so he can look at him, the knight can see his face twisting in a strenuous attempt at keeping his laughter at bay.

"I'm not laughing at you, Varka," he promises, his eyes showing his honesty. Varka's heart settles down, a little bit. "It's just… my Archons, you're just so cute," he coos, lowering his head to make his and Varka's nose touch, the touch so affectionate and intimate that it makes Varka get flustered once again. "I really lucked out with you, uh…" he whispers, almost to himself. His thumbs gently caress Varka's cheek and he places a kiss on his lips.

"I'm pretty sure that's something I should be saying," Varka admits when Venti breaks the kiss. "You're like… perfect."

Venti smiles, a slight hint of sadness flashes in his eyes, so fast that Varka wonders if he had just imagined it.

"I can assure you I'm not at all." He places another kiss on Varka's lips, quick and playful. "But to answer your question, you don't have to prep me or anything. I took care of everything myself, so you don't need to worry about it." He grins, that cheeky side of him back once again at full force, and it makes Varka gulp in anticipation. "Just focus on me. I want your absolute and undivided attention."

"You have it," Varka says without an ounce of hesitation. The answer visibly pleases Venti, the bard smiling at him from above as he lifts his hips and positions them.

"Perfect," he whispers. A soft hand gently wraps around the base of Varka's erection, the simple touch making him shiver, and then he's being angled right towards Venti's warm entrance.

"Fuck," he moans, the feeling of his tip breeching Venti's hole and making its way inside, little by little, is driving him insane. Venti's descent is slow but relentless, adjusting himself as he takes Varka in as if his body was made for this. It doesn't take him long to sit on Varka's hips, hole stretched around Varka's whole length, from tip to base. Varka feels like he could come from this alone, the feeling of Venti's tight heat around his dick is just too much. "Fucking- Venti, you feel so- fuck," he says, unable to form a proper sentence. He forces his eyes open to look at the man on top of him, and what he sees makes a slight hint of worry form in his chest.

Venti's not moving, his eyes are closed and brows furrowed. Both his hands are placed on Varka's chest, fingers spread open.

"Venti." Varka lifts his free hand to cup Venti's cheek, softly caressing it. Is he in pain? Is something wrong? "Is everything okay?"

"'t's fine," he moans softly. A sigh of relief leave's Varka's lips at the confirmation. When Venti finally moves, it's to open his eyes and look back at Varka, aqua green irises filled with arousal and bliss. His body slowly relaxes and his lips distend in a smile as he tilts his head to the side, leaning into the touch of Varka's hand. "You feel so good. You fill me so good, Varka…" his words are slurred, similarly to when he drinks a little too much. His cheeks are flushed in the same fashion too. It's like he's drunk on pleasure. The thought makes Varka wish he could just… move, or do something, his dick aching for some action. But he doesn't dare to move a muscle without Venti's approval. "Been waiting for this… for so long." He flexes his fingers, digging them in the flesh of Varka's firm chest, using it as a leverage to push his hips back up. "Ever since I saw you, I've been thinking about- shit, so big."

There's a brief moment of stillness when Venti completely lifts himself up, Varka's erection almost all the way out of him, but then Venti sinks back down.

"Fuck." Varka instintively brings one hand on Venti's hip, gripping it firmly as he assists Venti in the act of lifting himself up again. Every small movement of Venti's body sends shots of pleasure all over Varka, his skin covered in goosebumps even though he feels hot, so hot that he's sweating as if he's running a marathon, and his muscles feel like they're on fire, every nerve tingling because of the pleasure, and Varka literally has to use every single drop of self control he owns not to move his own hips to thrust back inside of Venti's hole.

"Mhh, don't do that." A wet tongue slides over Varka's bottom lip, a messy kiss shushing him before he could let out a moan when Venti once again sinks down, his ass pressing deliciously on the base of Varka's dick. "Don't close your eyes, my knight. I want you to look at me. Look at me, okay?" Venti whispers between kisses. "You promised me your undivided attention, remember?"

"You… have it," Varka says between moans, the same words he spoke earlier. Still, he forces himself to open his eyes, eager to please Venti.

"That's it." Venti nods and presses his forehead against Varka, looking him in the eyes with such intensity it makes the knight feel like his literal soul is bared in front of the bard for him to see as he pleases. "So handsome… so good." Venti's pace hastens just slightly, and he bites his lip to stifle a moan. Varka is fighting his own grunts and moans of pleasure, desperately trying not to be too loud, but fuck, it is difficult. Especially with Venti's inner walls being so warm and tight around his cock.

They remain silent for a while, the only sounds heard in the room their sighs, moans and the occasional curse escaping Varka's foul mouth. Remaining still is getting more and more difficult, every time Venti's hips lift up, Varka has to fight his own instinct to thrust back inside. Venti's slow and steady pace feels amazing, but it's not enough. Not nearly enough.

"I want you to fuck me," Venti says all of a sudden, almost startling Varka.

"But I am," Varka replies, hoping that the panic he feels in his chest hasn't bled too obviosly in his tone of voice. Is he not fucking Venti? Is he doing something wrong? Fuck, he must be an awful lover…

"No, I mean- actually fuck me." Venti quickly climbs down Varka's hips, plopping on the mattress and comfortably laying on his back next to Varka. He turns his head to look at the knight, smiling gleefully at him. "C'mon, you know I'm a little lazy. Were you expecting me to do all the heavy work?"

Varka stares at him with wide eyes, finally grasping at the true meaning behind Venti's words.

"Wait, you want me to-" He lifts himself up, sitting on the bed. Venti's head digs in the pillow and his smile grows bigger.

"Mhmh." He nods. "And don't be afraid to be a little rough with me. I won't break, you know."

Varka nods back with a gulp, positioning himself between Venti's spread legs. If seeing Venti fucking himself on his dick was a godly sight, seeing him like this, basically offering himself to Varka is something that cannot be described by human words. His dark indigo hair, messy strands in streak contrast with the white pillow, look like an halo around his angelic face. His body is flustered and glistening with sweat. He really does look like an angel. He's only missing the wings to completely look the part.

Despite the bard's teasing words, Varka can't help but gently place his hands on Venti's knees, carefully spreading his legs as he brings his erection to the warm hole ahead of it. The slide inside is easy because of Varka's precum and whatever type of ointment Venti must've used to loosen himself before the knight could climb inside the room. He observes the way Venti shudders after his first, tentative thrusts, bringing one hand to his mouth and biting the knuckle of his index finger to stop himself from moaning out loud.

That reaction is enough to make Varka feel a little bolder, sliding one hand down Venti's thigh and pushing inside him with more conviction. And fuck, it feels amazing. Venti feels amazing. Being able to set the pace feels amazing.

"Varka…" The way Venti sighs his name instead simply saying it makes something snap inside of him. It's like that last bit of inibition and self control just vanishes. Varka feels his hand grip more firmly Venti's soft thigh, angling it open in a way that gives him enough room to move. He snaps his hips forward, thrusting into Venti so abruptly that the frame of the bed creaks in protest, the headboard bumping against the wall with a small thud. A surprised whimper escapes Venti's lips, his free hand gripping the sheets in a desperate attempt to ground himself as the knight fucks into him like a man on a mission.

Every single thrust is accompanied by either a moan, a whine or a whimper coming from Venti, the bard completely unashamed to voice his pleasure and let Varka know how good he's making him feel.

"Such a pretty voice," he whispers breathlessly against Venti's mouth, kissing him like a desperate man. Despite being the one doing most of the action now, he doesn't feel in control of the situation. He still feels hesitant. He's still searching for any sign on Venti's face of discomfort or disapproval, anything that could show that he's not actually enjoying this.

But Venti kisses him back, humming in the kiss as their tongues clash messily, saliva smearing their lips. It would probably feel a little gross, if it wasn't so fucking hot.

Venti's arms wrap around Varka's torso, pulling him even closer, and at this point Varka's not even thrusting anymore, he's simply grinding and rotating his hips, loathing the mere thought of leaving Venti's delicious heat.

"Varka… fuck, just like that…" Nails dig into Varka's back after one particular shift of his hips. "Right there, fuck, please."

The desperation in Venti's voice is enough to push Varka forward, eager to get more and more of those pretty sounds coming out of Venti's mouth. He's so focused on the task at hand that when a familiar clenching sensation in his stomach hits him, his movements falter, and his forehead presses on the pillow next to Venti's head, face hiding in the crook of his neck.

"Shit…" he breathes out tightening his hold on Venti's thigh with one hand and gripping the bed's headframe with the other, trying to steady himself. "Venti, I'm so close, fuck-" he says, shoulders trembling as his whole body tries to delay what's about to come.

[author's note: that was an awfully ironic choice of words on my part, holy shit. still, kinda funny tho. i'm keeping it.]

"Inside," Venti almost begs him, holding him closer, as if his weak attempt could actually stop Varka from sliding outside if he wanted to do so.

Good thing Varka has no intention to. On the contrary, he's quite thrilled to oblige, angling his hips so he can thrust inside Venti one last time.

The low moan he lets out is muffled against Venti skin as he comes, while Venti's blissed whine echoes in the room as he also climaxes, ropes of come falling all over his stomach and chest.

They both remain still, gasping for air and desperately trying to catch their breath. Varka feels his muscles twitch, even his trained body starting to strain because of the uncomfortable position so, as carefully as he possibly can, he lowers Venti's leg and slides out of him. The sight of his hole covered in Varka's come, twitching and gaping around nothing is almost filthy enough to reawaken Varka's now soft cock, but the knight is too tired to move a muscle, let alone get hard again.

Still, as he watches Venti's body lying on the bed, the bard still panting softly with his eyes half closed, there's one more thing he feels he needs to do, no matter how exhausted he feels.

"Can I?" he asks, catching Venti's attention. It takes Venti a few seconds to realize what Varka's looking at and what he's asking permission for, but when he does a lazy smile forms on his lips, one hand moving to softly caress the knight's messy hair.

"Be my guest." He gestures to his stomach with his free hand, and that's enough for Varka to immediately dive in, licking his lips before running his tongue over one of the stains of come on Venti's stomach, licking it off. The taste, mixed with the saltiness of Venti's sweaty skin makes him sigh, delighted. Without skipping a beat, he inches upwards, licking off every single drop he finds, inebriated by the taste, and he only allows himself to roll on the bed next to Venti, lying down tiredly, when he's completely certain that every single drop has been cleaned off the bard's body. "I'm not gonna lie… that was pretty hot," Venti admits with tired amusement in his tone. Varka turns his head to look at him, and he finds that Venti was already turned towards him, his smile warm and eyes filled with content affection.

"How about… everything else?" Varka asks timidly, waiting for Venti's response. He hasn't felt this nervous ever since he tried the entrance exams of the Knights of Favonius and was waiting for the admission letter. "Was it okay?"

"Okay?" Venti's eyebrows shoot upwards at the question, and the bard rolls on his side so he can face Varka. "Varka, you made me come untouched. You know how hard is that?" he asks. "That's not something people just manage to do, especially not on their first time."

Varka can feel hot embarrassment travel fast to his cheeks, so he looks away, painfully aware of how red his face must be right now.

"You shouldn't say stuff like that. you'll end up boosting my ego too much." He tries to jest to hide his shyness and Venti giggles next to him, shuffling on the bed. Varka feels a light blanked being draped over his body, and goosebumps form on his shoulders, arms and chest. He hadn't even realized that he was getting cold.

"Well, your ego deserves to be boosted." The gentleness in Venti's voice makes Varka's heart skip a beat. "You did great. Were so good to me, just like you promised." A soft kiss is placed on his shoulder, right above an old scar. "Took everything I gave and gave me everything I asked and more. So, so good."

Varka decides to just accept the compliment and lets his eyes fall shut. The afterglow is starting to slowly fade and the adrenaline is slowly getting replaced by tiredness. Before he could end up betrayed by his own worn out body and sleepy mind, Varka slowly sits up, the blanket shifting off his body and leaving it defenseless against the night's cold air creeping in from the still open window.

Venti lets out a displeased hum when the blanket uncovers part of his naked body as well, his eyes opening slowly to send a tired glare in Varka's way. He looks like he's about to fall asleep, cheek pressed against the pillow and body comfortably splayed on the mattress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, stretching one arm towards Varka, taking his hand and bringing it to his lips to leave a small peck on his knuckles.

"It's late. I should probably go back to the Knight of Favonius' Headquarters. We have early training in the morning," Varka replies, turning his hand so he can caress Venti's bottom lip with his thumb. Despite the affectionate gesture, the bard's frown doesn't ease, deepening instead.

"Do you really have to go?" He pouts, batting his eyelashes at Varka, looking like a puppy. It almost feels difficult to imagine that this man right here is the same that was riding Varka's dick less than an hour ago.

"I can't just skip training, Venti." Varka sighs. Never like right now he had wished he could, though.

"Well, I'm not saying you should. I'm just wondering…" Venti inches forward, resting his chin on Varka's leg with a playful smirk on his face. "Is there a particular rule that says you have to spend the night at your dorm?"

Varka looks down at him, toying with one of his little braids. As a result of their previous activities, the pretty braids Venti usually styles his hair into are all messed up, barely kept together. Still, Venti looks adorable like this.

"Not exactly," he admits. Venti tilts his head to the side, pressing his cheek against Varka's leg. The way his soft cheek squishes against the firm muscle of the knight's thigh makes Varka's heart clench, and he has to physically refrain himself from cooing.

"Then stay!" Venti whines with a pout. "You can leave early before the sun rises. And maybe… we can arrange a little warmup session before your training, before you leave?" he offers, his cute expression replaced by that cheeky little grin Varka is getting used to by now. "Besides, it's cold outside now…" Venti adds with a sigh.

As if on clue, a cold breeze sneaks inside the room from the window again, making Varka shudder. He looks at the window, and then at the bed. Venti lying on it. The choice is way too obvious.

"Fine." He gives in, patting Venti's head to make him move his face away from his leg. "Let me just close the window."

Venti hums happily as he lets Varka stand up and walk towards the window. Varka can feel his gaze burning holes on his back and he doesn't have to turn around to know that Venti is probably checking him out.

"I hope those are gone by tomorrow. They don't exactly look like the type of marks you get when fighting an hilichurl, or a Ruin Guard," Venti says. Varka fastens the latches to close the window and turns around to look at him, confused. Venti laughs softly, amused by Varka's cluelessness. "Go check your back in the mirror," he suggests.

Varka does as told, approaching the small mirror in the room and turning around to look at his back. Among his battle scars, there are ten freshly made scratch marks. Pretty impossible to misinterpret.

"I'll just have to make sure no one sees me undressed tomorrow." He shrugs and walks back to the bed, wrapping himself in the blanket. His words manage to make Venti laugh.

The moment he's under the covers, a soft and warm body presses against his, and gentle arms wrap around him.

"Don't think about it now. Close your eyes and sleep." The softness in Venti's voice makes it impossible not to oblige. A kiss is placed on his forehead. "You did so well for me tonight. You deserve some rest."

Tiredness quickly takes over, and Varka's brain can barely register Venti's words as he falls into a peaceful slumber.

"Sleep safe and sound in the wind's embrace, my knight. For I'll be here when you wake up tomorrow."