Love Tonics (Geralt of Rivia x F!Reader)
Summary: You visit a tavern during your travels with Geralt to sell some potions. As he watches you from the bar, the Witcher is reunited with an “old friend” who gives him plenty to think about.
Contents: Friends-to-lovers, vague nsft, romance, confessions, Bathtub scenes | 18+ | 4.9k words
Geralt sighs, rolls his neck, winces at the loud crack the vertebrate of his spine give out. The room is crowded – too crowded. He’s nursing ale, ready to down in a second and leave the moment you deign to. The potions you sell always go down well in magical-prohibition towns like this, shady underhand dealings in the taverns that will fund your lives for the month, plenty of time to gather ingredients and travel to the next town. He used to care a lot about slaying beasts on the way, making sure his keep was earned and it was more than yours, but now he just let it happen.
If you make more coin than him, you would pay for dinners and supplies and rooms, and if the sales were poor and monsters were rife, Geralt would cover the expense.
He wondered when he had become so complacent to rely on you, to let you rely on him. His left knee ached, still tender from a bad fall earlier that day. Maybe he was getting old.
“Having fun?” you asked, sidling up beside him.
You reached for his drink, already nodding back at an eager patron who had caught your eye on the other side of the bar. They were never as subtle as they thought. A gulp to clear your throat, and you returned the tankard to him.
You rolled your eyes fondly at his grumpiness, and he took his own sip, hiding his smile.
“One more customer,” you promised, “then we can get out of here.”
He watched as you rummaged through your pockets, cloak flapping around you, face crumpled in concentration until you retrieved a few coins and your potions bag. He grumbled in protest as you threw the coins down to pay for Geralt’s drinks, asking him to order you food to go rather than engaging with his arguments about money.
“Get us something nice,” you leant closer to him, a private comment between you, “it’s been a lucrative night.”
The glint in your eye was contagious, and Geralt’s wolf-yellow stare followed you keenly as you approached the customer who had beckoned to you earlier.
He watched the interaction passively, catching the bartender’s attention to order meals when he drifted past, keeping half an eye on you as you charmed the wide-set, bearded man at the other end of the bar. A subtle exchange of coin, poultice bags and jars marked the end of your exchange.
Geralt startled as a hand found his thigh, someone unfamiliar in your bar stool beside him.
He didn’t recognise her voice, but a subtle glance as he swigged his ale jolted the Witcher’s memory. He glanced back at you, hoping your customer might keep you talking a little longer.
“Wasn’t expecting you to be in town,” she drawled.
Her voice was still slow and sticky, drawing his attention and trapping him in her thrall like molasses engulfing him. The few times they’d had together were pleasant, sweet, but nothing he was desperate to repeat. Certainly not if he had to explain himself to you.
He wondered what you’d think, eyes drifting across the room to follow you. He hadn’t been to a brothel while you had been travelling with him, nor had his old flames drawn him in, their fires dampened. The hand on his thigh grew more insistent, stroking higher, and he forced himself back into the conversation.
“It was last minute,” he told Estellede gruffly, face in his tankard as he drained the dregs.
“Oh, here for something special?”
She was flirting, he knew that. Knew how she wanted this evening to end. Geralt, for the life of him, couldn’t be bothered.
“My partner wanted to visit.”
He nodded across the room in your vague direction, catching your brow furrowing as you noticed his conversation. A glance told you he was fine, and you tried not to stare at the woman, her hands obscured by Geralt’s body. That particular missing piece of the image wasn’t difficult to work out, as Geralt gently moved her fingers from trailing too close to his crotch.
Estellede didn’t seem especially put off. She had known him a handful of times across two decades – plenty of time to assume that the Witcher was completely incapable of having a partner in the romantic sense. Geralt remained stoic, hoping she might just leave. Wondering why he didn’t want to take up her offer. It was a question he chose not to think about too much, not while your eyes were on him from the other side of the bar.
“That’s a turn out for the books, White Wolf. Partner.”
She was teasing him, that trailing hand back again and her body pressed into his arm. He refused to give her more than a grunt, acknowledgement she was speaking.
“I should introduce myself – ”
Estellede stood abruptly, and Geralt’s fingers encircled her wrist, instinct winning over his stoicism. His grip was gentle but firm, as he pulled her back to stand beside his chair.
“I don’t think that’s wise, Estellede. And I’m not interested. Sorry if I’ve disappointed you.”
“Never thought I’d see the day. She your wife?”
He pursed his lips, passing his tankard from hand to hand and wishing the damn barkeep would return to refill it.
“Not married,” Estellede observed, her voice far too loud for the Witcher’s liking.
He hoped her words would be obscured by the chatter of regulars, those customers you had served who remained for a pint. It took Geralt conscious effort to avoid looking at you, checking if you were approaching. If you were worried. Or jealous.
He wouldn’t look.
“No,” he confirmed, a gruff edge to his words which the woman was choosing to ignore.
“She’s quite close with that bloke over there. Are you sure she’s your partner?”
It was reflexive, the motion bypassing his brain, as Geralt whipped his head around in time to catch you in a perfectly boring conversation with the stocky man you had been selling to. More potions and coin were exchanging hands. He cursed aloud, Estellede’s damn cackling piercing his skull. Geralt grit his teeth.
He resisted the urge to thump the innocent bar top beneath his hands, quickly whipping his gaze away before you could catch him.
“Yes,” he ground out. “And I believe her business is almost done. If you wouldn’t mind leaving.”
Estellede laughed again, that high, clear laugh which cut through her rich, rasping voice.
“Why would I leave? I don’t even have a drink yet. And you have ruined the rest of my plans for the evening.”
The food wasn’t ready yet, and he knew you were looking forward to a decent meal. He wouldn’t deprive you that, and so the Witcher was condemned to remain in place. Estellede at least kept her hands to herself, as she looked between Geralt and his supposed partner.
“She’s not your partner, is she? Not in the way you want.”
He was in no mood for this. She was wrong.
“Testy,” Estellede mused, fingers tapping along the bar.
Refills of ale were finally being offered, and the pair sat in silence as they sipped. Estellede’s gaze kept slipping to you. It was making Geralt nervous. The woman caught him as he took a swig, wiping the ale from her mouth roughly as she spoke.
“She travel with you, Witcher?”
The truth felt like less effort. Geralt finally glimpsed hot food being wrapped in cheesecloth, taken from the kitchen only to be dropped on a different table.
He fixed her with a stare, catching the slight hitching of Estellede’s breath over the din of the pub. Good to know he still had some capacity for being intimidating.
“She helps fund the journey when the season’s slow, we have better protection travelling together… it just makes sense.”
“What does she sell?”
He knew Estellede didn’t really care, only insomuch as she could dig further into his psyche, but Geralt found himself suddenly keen to talk about it. To share.
“Potions. They’re really good. I think she could be a mage, if she chose.”
“Handy,” she conceded, once again looking at you with a searching gaze.
“She picked up how to make Witcher potions, too. Remarkable for a human, and very handy for me. She’s definitely saved my life with those.”
Geralt was never prone to bragging, so why did it feel so good to brag to Estellede about you? He bit down the worry – it was immediately superseded by surprise anyway, as the woman’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.
“You taught her Witcher potions?”
“She’s perfectly capable–”
“I’m sure she is. I’m just… that’s your culture. Your creed. I’ve never heard of a Witcher sharing… anything of it.”
He swallowed down the realisation which lodged in his throat. This was no time to be second-guessing himself. For the importance of his connection to you to knock the wind from his lungs like a charging Voref.
“You love her,” Estellede seemed to realise, far too loudly.
“I think you do.”
“Witcher, I didn’t know you could blush.”
He growled, despite knowing it would neither scare her nor convince her. Estellede smirked.
“You should tell her.”
“I forgot how annoying you are,” he grumbled.
“You should,” she insisted.
“How do you know I haven’t told her?”
“Geralt. I don’t believe for a second you would let her out of your sight, if you were truly partners in anything other than business.”
In truth, he hardly did let her out of his sight. But that would do nothing to help his case. He glanced at the corner again, shocked to see you gone. Before panic could set in her noticed you emerging from the back of the tavern, smiling as you took food from the barkeep.
“If you won’t enjoy my company tonight, you shouldn’t be alone. Tell her.”
Geralt waved her off with a grimace, pleased to see Estellede finally taking a hint and standing from her barstool. For one last moment she leaned in close, making you frown as you approached. Estellede whispered in Geralt’s ear.
“Tell her. Or I will be very offended you turned me down.”
“Goodbye, Estellede,” Geralt ground out.
You had paused on his other side, trying not to intrude on the moment, clearly feeling left out as your eyes roved the inn. Anywhere but Geralt and his companion.
With a polite greeting to you and a parting hand to Geralt’s shoulder, she took her tankard and left. You hesitated, uncertain if you should reclaim your seat.
“Who was that?” you asked gently, trying not to be demanding.
Geralt owed you nothing. You knew he had friends and… others, all across the continent.
“And old acquaintance. Just catching up,” he gave you and unconvincing smile.
You weakly returned it.
The chance of subject was unnatural, far too chatty for Geralt’s usual conversation, but you appreciated the gesture.
“Yep. Upsold him, we should be good for quite a while. I’ll need to make more heart tonics, though. And impotence potions.”
Geralt wrinkled his nose, and you laughed.
“Humans get old, and once they do, they’ll pay through the roof to have working dicks again.”
“It’s funding our dinner,” you teased, holding out one of the cloth-wrapped bundles of food.
It smelled amazing, he had to admit. The cold weather outside wasn’t inviting – and he wondered if you would mind staying in the tavern a while longer. Even if that last customer kept staring at you. Geralt didn’t think you had noticed. Or you were ignoring the man.
The Witcher took his portion, holding it to his nose, and pretending to loathe it.
“You’ve rather ruined my appetite.”
“Too bad,” you laughed, “I’ll just eat both meals.”
As Geralt finished his drink, he caught you glancing at Estellede, now laughing with a group of friends by the window. Your expression softened, something approaching worry settling on your face for the briefest of seconds, until you shielded it from him once again.
“We could stay here, tonight. If you wanted,” you offered nonchalantly, rubbing the rim of your tankard.
Geralt tilted his head, waiting for you to continue.
“Since you have an old friend here you might want to stay with. I could get a room upstairs here, leave you to it for a bit.”
“I believe I said she was an acquaintance,” Geralt corrected gently.
You didn’t respond, staring down at your drink. It broke his damn heart.
“If you wanted to, I wouldn’t mind sleeping in a real bed. We could regroup again in the morning,” you tried, forcing some energy back into your voice.
Geralt couldn’t help frowning at your tone, sorry to have soured such a successful evening for you. Damn Estellede.
“That’s a kind offer, but not something I’m remotely interested in.”
You didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the jugs and tankards laying behind the bar.
“We could still get rooms,” he continued, “or you could. To get a break. I’ll sleep anywhere, though. Don’t waste coin on me.”
You blinked, and he wasn’t really sure if you were listening. The tankard cradled in your hands was held firm, above the sticky wooden counter. Geralt shifted in his seat. That knee was bothering him again.
“We should just go,” you said finally, pulling your cloak tighter around you and moving to finish up your ale.
The feeling settling in your chest was so intense, familiar and yet so much worse than you had felt before. You couldn’t place it, didn’t know how to fix it, how to make it leave. You only knew that Geralt’s acquaintance made it boil up and ache behind your ribs, filling your throat and making your eyes sting.
“Hey,” Geralt’s hand settled on your forearm, a suggestion to stay.
Not an insistence.
“Talk to me,” he murmured.
“I don’t feel well.”
The words were sharp, and The Witcher waiting a moment more, seeing if you would elaborate. You didn’t.
“We’ll get you a room then,” he decided, “a bath and a meal might help. Plus some proper sleep.”
You reached silently for your coin purse, and Geralt stoically accepted the coin, silently pledging to pay you back the moment a job found him.
“This is a steep rate for a room,” he pointed out, counting the coin in his hand.
“No, I can’t. Not on your coin.”
You gave him a withering look, and Geralt stood, wandering off to find lodgings.
Talking to the tavern owner (at full height, with swords nestled along his back) secured a good rate for a room and a hot bath. A single room. Geralt would sneak the coin back to you and sleep in the stables with Roach – he was used to it anyway.
The two of you fetched your bags in silence, taking them up to the room Geralt had a key for, which he declared to be yours. It was the only key he had, and you suspected he hadn’t bothered with a second room. You tried not to picture Estellede, her hand on his upper thigh and her lips to the shell of his ear.
“You want me to stay?” Geralt asked, eyeing the hot bath and the screen placed beside it.
“Only if you don’t mind.”
He didn’t. He perched on the bed, view of the bath obscured by the screen, and stared up at the ceiling as he listened to the rustle of clothes and the crackle of the fire.
“Tell me about her?”
He could hear you descending into the bath. Geralt pulled the sword from his back, laid it across his lap. Stared at it.
“No one special.”
The light movement of water sounded like a tsunami to his ears, each slight shift dragging his imagination to places it didn’t belong. He could hear you thinking, imagine the questions ticking through your mind as you sank into the warm water.
“She really wasn’t,” he insisted, fingers stroking down the sword blade, “someone I’ve… met a few times.”
He wondered if you’d nodded behind the screen. He hadn’t heard you speak.
“It sounded like a successful evening?” he tried.
Is this what it’s like talking to me?
“It was,” you finally replied. “Like I said: they bought a lot and paid well.”
He could hear you scrubbing your skin. The shifting of water in the tub. He propped the sword up against the bed, a metallic clunk as the blade unbalanced and fell to the floor.
“Sorry if you were bored tonight,” your voice crept from beyond the screen, and Geralt leant back onto the bed.
“All part of the job. It’s warmer here than camp, anyway.”
You laughed lightly.
Geralt unpicked the parcel of food he had brought upstairs, still holding some warmth as he regarded the pie and cheese, the berries sat atop it. Nothing special, but rich and nourishing. He picked at the cheese, appetite mysteriously absent. He chose to blame Estellede.
“Any good?” he heard you ask, followed by the splash of your head disappearing underwater.
He waited for you to surface before answering.
“Fine. Though the pie is a little undersized.”
“Anything less than a whole deer is undersized to you,” you teased, only for the joy of hearing Geralt’s affronted scoff.
“There’s cheese,” he offered, “that’s good.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Geralt picked his sword up from the floor, trying to balance it against the wall this time. It fell again, and he heard your laughter from behind the screen. He smiled, then frowned. You weren’t chatty, and Geralt couldn’t believe that he was missing it so much. You often said you hated your one-sided conversations with him, and he could suddenly understand why. He shoved some pie in his mouth.
Chewed. Swallowed. Picked at the berries – they were too sour. You still hadn’t spoken.
“The last guy you sold to seemed nice. Took ages – I hope he paid you well.”
You nodded, then realised Geralt couldn’t see you.
“Yeah, he did. Wanted to tell me his life story.”
Geralt hummed, remembering Estellede’s words. You seemed to have that effect on people. He thought of the potions in his bag. The ease with which you’d replicated the instructions he’d given you. The countless times you had effortlessly found the right potion for a fight, had the right mixture ready when he returned bloody and beaten from a fight.
He was sure you hadn’t told a soul about the potions you made just for him. He hadn’t even doubted it – you were trustworthy.
“He say anything interesting?” Geralt offered, anything to keep the conversation going.
“Not really. Born here, going to die here.”
He wasn’t sure you even heard his reply, your head underwater again. When you resurfaced you spluttered a bit, and Geralt hid a laugh. Not the time.
“Did you want a bath too?” you offered, “Might be nice, if you’re planning on…”
You trailed off. Geralt huffed in irritation.
“I’m not planning on fucking Estellede. But I will take a bath, if you’re hinting that strongly.”
Wrapped in a blanket you emerged from behind the screen, fixing him with a glare, trying to read his face. He just seemed annoyed.
“I wouldn’t judge you if you were, Geralt. I’m not your keeper.”
Your words were so soft, he regretted snapping. Wordlessly the two of you swapped places, and you reclined on the bed as you ate, listening to the clattering of Geralt’s clothes hitting the floor, the sloshing of the bath water as he displaced it.
He wasn’t sure what possessed him, the warm water around him, naked and a few short strides away from you. That feeling wouldn’t stop bothering him.
“I told Estellede you were my partner.”
You blinked, chewing through your mouthful of pie. Not sure what to say. Geralt didn’t elaborate.
What did he want you to say?
A slosh of water.
“She was getting… touchy.”
You wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself. Blinked at the ceiling. Ignored the sounds Geralt made as he stretched out his sore muscles in the bath.
“She probably wanted to sleep with you.”
Pointing out the obvious felt like the only thing you could do. You’d never known Geralt to be especially prone to pleasures of the flesh – but the rumours you heard seems to contradict that. A brief encounter with a bard he had known had left you in peels of laughter at tales of the Witcher’s misfortunes, plenty of which were rather promiscuous.
“I don’t think I can.”
“Of course you can,” you ventured carefully, “if you want. Don’t let me stop you.”
“Would you – ”
He cut himself off. Dunked his head under the water, no doubt flooding the floor. You frowned at the ceiling. He finally came back up for air, sitting silently.
“Would I what?”
“Estellede said I should… tell you something.”
A slosh of bath water. A grunt. Water dripping to the floor, another blanket being pulled from its position by the fire. Geralt emerged, torso bare and fabric slung around his hips. His hair was wet and limp around his face, framing an expression so sincere and worried you found yourself checking the room for danger. His sword lay beside your feet, abandoned.
“I care for you.”
You blinked at him as he stood over the bed, face painted with a nervousness you didn’t recognise on him. It was a struggle to speak, to understand his meaning. To know if he meant it, in the way you wanted him to. He tilted his head, water dripping from his hair.
“Say something,” his words were a grumble, frustration and hurt and desperation all muddled into the bass of his voice.
You had no idea what to say.
“I care for you too, Geralt.”
He was attractive and kind and brilliant – as well as he hid it – and yet, completely off limits. Until now, it seemed.
“Your heartbeat… it’s fast.”
“What do you mean, you care for me?”
“I care for you. And I… want us to be more than friends.”
This was torture for him. You could tell. A balancing act between avoiding vulnerability and his searing natural sincerity.
“I’d like that too,” you told him, carefully, watching his reaction.
He nodded, not smiling, not moving closer. As you pulled your blanket closer around your undressed body, your hands were shaking. Geralt cleared his throat, looked around the room. Spoke to the wall beside your head.
“You’re, um, I don’t know what I’d do without you. And, I couldn’t… go home with Estellede. Because she wasn’t you. And I said you were my partner because I didn’t want to say friend.”
His gaze locked on to you, fast. You tried not to startle.
“I’m not this loyal to just anyone,” you began, finally feeling a warmth reaching your cheeks as the moment sank in.
The gravity of this moment.
“You’re remarkable. I love travelling with you, and if you want more, I’d like that,” you admitted.
His mouth quirked up, and you raised one hand, inviting him to crawl onto the bed beside you. To your surprise he lay alongside you, propped up on an elbow, looking up at you. Geralt captured your outstretched hand with his, cupping it against the sheets beside his bare chest. Just holding it there. His skin felt warm, palms calloused but soft from the bath.
He pulled your hand closer to his face, speaking into your knuckles, inches from his lips.
“I really fucked that up.”
“You didn’t,” you protested, laughing a little at his pessimism.
“Estellede said to make it romantic.”
“Can you stop bringing up Estellede!”
You were still teasing, laughing lightly, but Geralt frowned.
“It’s fine. This is just… weird.”
His eyes watched your face like he was tracking, microexpressions and breathing all analysed, worry held in the locking of his sharp jaw.
“I don’t know why,” he admitted, “I wanted this to be right.”
You shuffled down in the bed, remembering to avoid your blanket shifting and grabbing it with your hand, pleased to see the flicker to Geralt’s eyes to that exposed skin. Now laying on your side, facing him, it was easier to believe this was real.
“It’s right. We’ve known each other so long… It’ll take time.”
He thought for a moment, both of you taking a moment to process, the room pleasantly warmed by the fireplace. You let your eyes trail across the defined muscles of his shoulders, his chest –
“I couldn’t remember when it stopped being anyone else. It just… happened.”
“Everyone I met, I looked and I just saw how they weren’t you.”
You couldn’t help it. Pulling him closer, the hand on his jaw your chest to his. You sank your head into the side of his neck, cheek to cheek, breathing him in. He pulled you back. And kissed you. Slow and gentle and needy, languid in a way the Witcher never was. Only for you. His fingers cradled your chin, guiding you, your connected hands still trapped between your chests.
When your trapped arm grew painful you gently pulled away, smiling at the contented slow blink of his eyes opening. He smiled back, all the way that you could see the sharpness of his white canines.
Stretching out your hand, you fought the urge to tease him, to make some stupid comment about Estellede. But you didn’t have the heart. You relished in the intensity of it, the tingle in your spine and the swelling of your lips, the tension between you as Geralt caught your free hand and pulled it to his chest.
His heart was pounding, and you knew he could hear your matching pulse.
Lazily you pushed one leg forwards, against the line of his thighs. He groaned subtly as your thigh brushed against him, half-hard. You checked his expression, brow raised, lips reddened.
“Yeah?” you asked, barely a syllable.
Geralt pulled you closer, fingers trailing against the edge of the blanket which covered you. You let yourself be pulled flush into him, contorting yourself until he groaned once again at the closeness.
He pressed his face into your neck, you could feel him smiling against the sensitive skin there. Open-mouthed kisses warmed you from the inside, as his hands trailed further down your waist.
Geralt chuckled, fingers pausing as he looked up at you, pupils wide and cheeks flushed. You reached for his hair, pulling him in for a kiss again. Just to remember that this was real. The Witcher pulled away first, reluctantly, and you felt him hard and insistent against your stomach.
“No teasing,” Geralt confirmed.
Your mind was blank as Geralt finally collapsed onto you, heavy and spent and sweating, a euphoric grin wide enough to match yours. He was panting, trying to speak, recovering all at once.
Wrecked, warm, muscles loose from pleasure, you let out an airy laugh as Geralt wrapped both arms around you and flipped you. Laying on his chest instead, you propped yourself up to fuss with his hair. It was still damp, and you cleared it from his face, deep grey turning white near his roots as it dried.
“I haven’t seen you this out of breath… ever,” you teased, “who knew this was the best way to get you tired.”
“I think you and a particularly nasty Striga are tied,” he mused, lips tugged into a smile as you rolled your eyes. “I know which I’d prefer.”
You closed your eyes, lay on his chest, basked in warmth and hormones and hope.
“Don’t say the Striga.”
Geralt hummed like he was thinking about it. You groaned.
It seemed to take enormous effort, both of you drained of all energy, but he kissed your head sweetly all the same.
As you recovered you started to move, trying to take your weight off Geralt until he protested and you remained in place, chest to chest and covering him completely. His hands held you in place, lazily weighing on the small of your back. You could feel the shifting of his chest as he breathed.
“Am I crushing you?”
The word was murmured, and you smiled at the sleepiness overtaking him. It was strange to see him so off-guard. You were glad for it. Holding yourself up against him, you watching his eyelids slide open to watch you.
“I want to ask you a stupid question…” you trailed off, lips pressing to the slight sheen of sweat covering Geralt’s shoulder, avoiding meeting his eye.
He laughed hoarsely, head refusing to leave the pillow. He was still breathing deeply, melted into the sheets. You hoped you wouldn’t ruin his peace.
“Go on,” he mumbled.
“Is this serious? I know we’re not traditional but…”
He didn’t need to elaborate. You felt the rumble of his chest as he spoke, reverberating through you, warming you. You smiled against his skin, settling into his side. Geralt lazily pulled the blankets around both of you, covering up to your waists, trapping the warmth of him against you.
zhongli x f!reader
summary | breaking a promise to zhongli, and paying the price with spread legs (pwp, thigh riding, cockwarming, overstimulation, praise kink, sir kink, degrading kink)
warnings | nsfw
word count | ~10k
links | ao3
I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.
But— Beidou is only in town for the day, a short stop sandwiched between two several month long expeditions spent sailing the sea, too far away for contact. We settled to meet at the Third-Round Knockout. Her, me, a table of food, and all morning to talk before she visits the other people she cares about. We each got a single drink to toast with, then one became two, two became three, and... well...
I might be drunk in the middle of the day.
"Zhongli is going to kill me—" I groan, planting my head into my arms, leaning into the table.
I was supposed to meet with him today as well, as soon as Beidou's left. I can feel the heat on my flushed face where it connects with my skin. I'm drunk. He hates when I drink, enough that he told me to never drink before I see him.
Beidou grunts, and I hear the creak of her chair as she leans back in it.
"What's with you and that old man?" She asks, followed by the thud of her empty glass hitting the table. She calls for another round, and I groan again, tilting my head up to look at her.
"Wha'd'you mean?" I ask, pouting my lower lip out.
Beidou squints at me, then lifts her hands to gesture.
"Are you—" She holds her tongue with her teeth, a look of concentration knitting her brow. She forms her index finger and thumb on one hand into a circle, then pushes her other pointer finger out, jamming it into the circle she created. "—y'know."
As she continues to thrust her finger into the space created by her hand, the waiter approaches, dropping two new drinks in front of us. Beidou doesn't notice, but she's shot a dirty look.
I squint at her, knowing exactly what she's asking, but refusing to answer truthfully.
"No?" I sit all the way up, batting my eyelashes to antagonize her. "What are you talking about?" As I finish speaking, I lift my new drink, sipping it to keep my buzz if this is the conversation we're having.
Beidou blinks back, a delirious and gullible look in her eyes.
"Are you gonna go have sex with him?" She asks, point blank.
I choke on my drink, not expecting to hear the question. I have to take a moment to steady myself, eyes flicking up to Beidou as she crosses her arms and stares me down.
"I— I—" I blink, stumbling over my words, trying to collect my thoughts. I settle for a jab back, looking at Beidou with as much courage as I can muster. "Are you gonna go have sex with Ningguang?" I ask.
Beidou's brows tick in, a no less severe expression on her face. "Of course." She says, just as brash. "Now answer my question."
I falter, pursing my lips. Damn, I thought that would buy me more time.
"I'm—" I start, trying to look up and meet her eyes. I end up shying away from her severe stare, hiding in my drink. "Yes." I admit, no way around it. "We are... involved."
"Involved?" Asks Beidou, leaning in, "Like more than just having sex?"
I suck my lower lip in, hesitant to talk about it. This is something that happened recently, more than a month after Beidou last left Liyue Harbor. My hands instinctively come together, my fingers resting on a bracelet that was a gift from Zhongli. He called it the contract of what we have between us, the guarantee of the promises we've made each other, and the reminder than I belong to him. There's no official title, but...
"A lot more than just sex." I say.
Beidou 'oohs', leaning in even closer.
Before she can get another word out, the door to the tavern swings open with a slam. Beidou and I both crane our necks to look. Standing in the entryway, tall, elegant and beautiful, is lady Ningguang. Her eyes are locked to Beidou though, and intimidating enough that I find myself faltering.
She walks in, tailed by two guards.
"You're in trouble now—" I whisper back, trying to make myself look at small as possible.
Beidou shoots me a glare of her own, before pulling her face into a wide smile, staring at Ningguang as she approaches.
"Hey—y my beautiful flower, has anyone told you how lovely and gentle and beautiful and intelligent and—" Beidou starts, interrupted by Ningguang.
"I've been waiting for hours." Ningguang says, voice severe, barely flicking her eyes over to me. She gives me a curt nod of acknowledgment and I blink back in surprise.
Beidou squints at her. "I— told you I'd finish lunch at twelve." She says as looks over to me. "My friends are just as important to me—"
Ningguang immediately reaches to her side, pulling a pocket watch from a chain where it's fastened. She flips it open, pushing it forward, directly toward Beidou. Beidou leans in, lifting her brows as she reads the time, surprise clear in her expression.
"Now what does that say?" Ningguang asks, staring Beidou down.
Beidou swallows, eyes flicking up to stare at the other woman. "Two-oh-six." She says, lifting her drink, finishing it in a single swig, dropping the empty glass to the table, then slowly starting to stand.
Shit. I promised Zhongli I'd be done by noon, myself.
Beidou turns to me once standing, reaching a hand over to clasp my shoulder. "I'm glad to have seen you," She starts, "If my next adventure finds me dead—" She nervously glances toward Ningguang, "Know that you were my greatest friend." At that, she reaches into her pocket, pulling out and slamming down a satchel of mora that is certainly— more than enough to pay our tab. She turns, walking away from the table.
Ningguang smiles, small, watching Beidou approach her, before turning her gaze to me. "I'm sorry for interrupting—" She says, lifting her hands together, looking apologetic. "I'm sure you understand?"
I nod, giving her a reassuring smile of my own. "I had plenty of time with her." I say back, waving her off.
I lift to my feet to stand and leave as well, met with a head rush that makes me waver. I have to shoot my hands out to the table to steady myself, coming into the realization that I drank much more than I should have.
A hand darts forward, landing on my arm, holding me steady.
"Are you alright?" I hear Ningguang ask, much closer than before.
I nod, slowly blinking, trying to focus my eyes, batting her away.
"I'm fine— just a bit—" As I try to step away, I stumble, barely catching myself on another table. "—drunk." I sigh out, then look up to Beidou to glare. "I hate you." I bite out. I always try to drink as much as her, and, inevitably, end up far drunker.
Beidou gives me a toothy grin, shrugging. "Learn to hold your liquor." She says.
Still next to me, Ningguang turns to glare at Beidou, until the smile slips from her face. She looks to the side, sheepish.
"You're in no condition to get home alone." Ningguang says, lifting her hand and snapping her fingers together.
One of the two guards steps forward, at attention, walking up next to us.
"Assure that she arrives home safely." She says, voice stern, before turning back to meet my eyes again. "If you tell him where you live he'll get you home. Let me know if there are any problems." She says, then steps away before I can protest, back to Beidou's side.
Together, the two turn, walking for the exit. Beidou looks back, giving me another wave as she's ushered away, until the door swings shut behind them, and I'm alone with the guard.
"Where do you live, ma'am?" He asks.
I look up at him, feeling sheepish. I'm drunk, that doesn't mean a need a guard to walk me home.
"You can— leave me." I start. "I'm more than capable of getting home, I'm not sure why Lady Ningguang even—" I take the first step forward, lose my footing, and fall over face first, collapsing to the ground.
I groan, collecting myself and sitting up, blowing a stressed breath. Maybe it's good Beidou's only home a few days a year, she'd drink me into an early death otherwise.
The guard's hands land on me this time, helping me to stand. I let him, but once I'm up, the hands don't come off. Instead, I'm lifted up into his arms, until he's carrying me.
"Just tell me where to go." The guard starts, looking embarrassed for me. "Ma'am."
I huff a sigh with half a mind to struggle to get out of his hold— but— realize it isn't worth it. I would probably just fall on my ass if I attempted to walk anywhere, this is likely for the best.
Now, I have to consider my options. Fake sick and abandon my plans with Zhongli because I'm in no state to meet him, or—
Zhongli's address spills from my mouth, something selfish and needy rearing in my chest. I want to see him, I don't care how much trouble I'll be in once he sees my current state.
The guard nods, walking forward with me in his arms. It's foreign to exit a bar belligerently drunk and see it's still the middle of the day. The outside is busy with working people despite the clouds in the sky and the threat of rain looming above them.
I hide my face in my own shoulder, embarrassed as the guard strides forward, down the streets, deeper into the city, carrying me to where Zhongli lives. The closer we approach, the more nervous I get, mind racing at how he might react to the mistake I've made.
I really shouldn't be drunk.
My stomach twists as I spot Zhongli's home, and consider my current position. I'm already going to be in enough trouble as it is— I don't need him to see me in another man's arms. I lift my hand, tapping the shoulder of the guard, signaling to be let down. The guard listens, lowering me to my feet. I have to take a second to balance myself, but finally find my bearings, walking forward to close what feels like an immeasurable distance between me and Zhongli.
I approach his threshold, but before I can knock, the door opens. Zhongli stands in the entryway, his eyes flicking between me and the guard at my back, his expression set.
"Didn't we agree you'd arrive by noon?" He asks, finally staring at just me.
I nod, then stumble toward him. He receives me in his arms, holding me tight as I bury myself in his chest. His arms feel massive as they wrap me, cradling me like I'm something fragile. I drag in an inhale, breathing in the scent of clear spring and mountain air that seems ever present on him.
"Are you alright?" He asks, softer.
I tilt my head back to look at him, and see his face is knit with concern. I nod, staring up at him through my lashes.
"I'm— f-fine." I slur out, then watch as Zhongli's brow ticks in.
There's a drop in my stomach as it happens, knowing he's become aware of what's made me late. He looks away from me, up to the guard.
"Thank you." He says, voice firm, before guiding me into his house.
"I'm sorry—" I try to start, keeping pressed to his side, my fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt.
Zhongli closes the door, soft, careful, before turning to look at me again.
"You're drunk, aren't you?" He asks, disappointment clear in his voice.
I nod, moving my hands against his abdomen. I keep touching, grabbing, pawing at him.
"I'm sorry—" I repeat, lifting my hand to his chest. "Can I make it up to you? I—"
Zhongli catches me at the wrist, holding my hands still. He sighs, then walks away without another word. I stay in place, fidgeting with the bracelet on my wrist, restlessness and guilt twisting my stomach, as I wait, I hear water start to run.
He reappears, walking straight for me. He lands his hands on me in silence, lifting me into his arms. I curl my fingers into his shoulder, holding tight as he carries me to the bathroom. I look around, noting that the bath is running, filling with water.
I'm carefully lowered to my feet, then Zhongli steps back, creating distance, crossing his arms across his chest. He looks right at me.
"Do you need help undressing?" He asks.
I shake my head no, stumbling over my own feet as I grab the hem of my dress, lifting it up and off. It falls to the floor with a thump. Standing in my undergarments, I can feel Zhongli's eyes on me, burning me in the way they flick across my body, studying me. I embarrass, shoving my panties down and off as quickly as I can, shedding my bra even faster, then standing nude with my arms wrapped around my core.
"It's ready for you." Zhongli says next, the sound of water flowing cut short.
I look up to meet his eyes, finding them locked to my body, searching the expanse of it. I carefully step forward, until I'm directly in front of him.
"I'm sorry—" I repeat, feeling small, watching as his steady gaze locks back to my face.
"It's okay." He says. "We can talk about it later."
I nod, tight, still in my own head. I almost want him to be mad, to express the upset I see clear on his face so that the guilt in my stomach settles. Instead, his words and actions are measured with restraint.
I look away from him toward the bath. It's drawn high, shimmering with soap. I lift my leg, stepping in, until I'm standing in the water. Then, I lower myself in, sinking into the warm feeling that envelops my body.
I glance back over to Zhongli, watching as he walks to the door, sheds his jacket, and hangs it. From there, he turns, walking back toward the bath, removing his gloves, unpinning his cufflinks, slipping them both into his pocket. He carefully rolls his sleeves up his forearms, one at a time.
My heart jumps to my throat as he reveals his arms, thick with muscle and defined veins like his hands, a light ghosting of hair that covers the entire limb. He kneels next to the tub, lifting a bottle of soap. He pours the soap into his hands, then pushes those hands forward, landing them on my body.
"I'm sorry." I repeat, voice as small as I can make it, searching the hard line of his unwavering expression.
His eyes flick up to meet mine, piercing in the way they look at me. He slides his soaped hand against my skin, over my chest, up to my neck. He rests there, caressing with his thumb, keeping his eyes on me.
"You reek of alcohol." He says, voice low and gentle. "Didn't you promise to never drink before seeing me?"
I duck my head, heart jumping to my throat. I nod, tight. "Yes." I breathe out, blinking down to watch my hands curl around each other underneath the water. "I'm sorry." I repeat.
Zhongli says no more, but continues to move his hands. He drags them along me with purpose, washing every square inch of my body in silence, before he's up, grabbing a toothbrush from his counter. He kneels back down, holding the brush, staring at me.
"Can you open your mouth for me?" He coaxes.
I swallow around my tongue, but do, just parting my lips.
Zhongli's free hand comes up, cupping my face. His thumb forces between my lips, pressing to my bottom row of teeth. He opens my mouth, pulling his thumb back, only to dig his fingers into my cheeks, holding my face in place. He moves forward with the toothbrush, pushing it into my mouth, watching it go in, all while I search his face.
He starts to move, brushing the caps of my teeth, moving the brush in and out of my mouth, dragging it against my lips. I find my eyes fluttering shut, embarrassment overwhelming me.
All of this is because I couldn't control myself, and now, I have to be cared for. He finishes brushing my teeth, allows me to rinse, then pulls the plug from the bath. He stands up, finds a towel, dries his hands on it, and brings it to me.
"Will you be okay on your own for a moment?" He asks, waiting until I nod in confirmation to stand up and walk away.
Once he's gone, I lift my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them. I wait in the bath while the water drains, consumed with upset. I just want him to kiss me the way he always does, hold me tight, and make me feel like nothing else in the world matters. Instead, I'm helpless as he picks up the pieces of me.
There's a small tremble in my core as I stand up. It's a sinking feeling that acknowledges my fault, a repeated reminder that I'm the one who fucked up and crossed the boundaries we set.
I reach for the towel that Zhongli used, dry off with it, then walk out of the bathroom. I go straight for his bedroom, finding pajamas already laid out for me on the bed. It's a top and bottom set, silken, too large, I lift the buttoned top, slipping it over my head without unbuttoning anything. The hem falls past the middle of my thigh, wearing more like a dress than anything else. I don't bother with the pants.
I poke my fingers from the oversized sleeves, curling them into the fabric at the collar of the shirt, lifting it to my face. I breathe in, finding it rich with the scent that lingers on Zhongli. I nearly buckle, eyes fluttering shut as I breathe it in, grounding myself in it.
When I open my eyes again, reality comes crashing back.
I walk out of the bedroom, eyes peeled for Zhongli. I find him in his kitchen, dropping a mixture of leaves into a pot of still water that sits on a low flame. His sleeves are still rolled up to his elbow, the muscles of his forearms flexing as he uses them.
I make a noise, watching him, wishing his hands were on me. He glances back.
"You should lay down until the tea is done." He says, quiet.
Though I know it's for the best, I refuse to listen. I shake my head no, walking toward him with uncertainty.
"I don't—" I start, taking a ragged breath. "Are you angry? I don't want you to be upset with me— please, I—" I falter as Zhongli pauses his movement. "Please." I repeat, begging, breathier than last time.
Pin prick tears collect at the corners of my eyes, desperation for reassurance fueling my courage.
Finally, Zhongli turns and approaches me, his expression strained. He lands one hand on my waist, sliding it up my side. His other cups my chin, gentler than I expect, running his thumb along my bottom lip to my cheek.
"Go lay down." He repeats, his face relaxing into something kinder, more familiar. "You'll feel better if you lay down."
I whine, wrapping my arms around him tighter, hesitant to let go now that I've got some of the attention I desperately wanted.
"Do you hate me now?" I ask, voice small.
Zhongli's brows lift, his hand traveling higher to thumb the tear from my eye. He moves in closer, holding eye contact with me.
"Of course not." He says, quiet, holding my face steady to lean in and press a chaste kiss to my lips. "I am upset." He says, his breath warm against my lips, tightening his hand on my waist to pull me closer. "But we can wait to address it when you're sober." He presses another kiss.
Though the words are severe, it's a relief. I press into his lips with all of my might, digging my fingers into his shoulders, steadying myself. He can still love me the same, despite my mistakes.
Zhongli pulls back from the kiss with a soft noise, quickly turning to attend to the pot. I finally relax, moving with him, keeping myself pressed against his broad back, my arms looping his waist.
"You're too kind to me." I mumble, muffled by his shirt.
Maybe it's the drive of the alcohol, or the way his hands felt when he ran them along my body as he washed me, or maybe even just his kindness, but I find myself craving intimacy. I carefully drag my hands down his abdomen, grazing my fingers against the fabric of his shirt, until I reach his belt. There, I move carefully, working my fingers to lift the clasp, my other hand dragging down across his lap as I hold my breath.
Zhongli goes still beneath my palms. I move slower, glacially, pressing against his belt. I don't make it far before his hand covers my own, stilling my movement.
"No." He says, voice low and soft. "Not while you're drunk."
I whine, pressing against his back. "But I want to—" I pout.
Zhongli turns to face me, an unfamiliar stern look on his face. "No." He repeats, just as he lands his hands on me and lifts me into his arms.
I'm helplessly carried to his bedroom, then, unceremoniously dumped onto his bed.
"Rest until the tea is done." Zhongli says, an order, before leaning in and pressing a parting kiss to my forehead. "I'll be back when it's ready." He says, then pulls back.
I puff my cheeks out, pouting, but refrain from protest. Zhongli turns, walking back out of the room, leaving me alone. I decide to settle, admitting that he's right, I should lay down. I wrap myself in a comforter, burying my face in his pillows, and let my eyes shut. I find myself relaxing, mind filled with memories of us in this bed together, and how safe I feel here, until I slip into sleep.
I open my eyes, disoriented, watching Zhongli's back retreat from the room. I blink slowly, sitting up, lifting my hands to rub my eyes. I must've fallen asleep, and, I glance out a window, noting the setting sun in the sky, it must've been for hours.
I take in my surroundings, noticing that to my side is a cup of tea on a plate, billowing a soft cloud of steam. I steady myself before reaching for it, then lift it to drink. It tastes floral, minty, bright against my desensitized tongue.
I blink again, trying to focus my eyes as I recollect the events of the day. I notice a slight ache in my head, and remember the fact that I was drunk.
Embarrassment heats my face, the automatic memory of Zhongli's disappointment in me springing to the forefront. I hide in the cup of tea, willing myself to forget.
It's a useless effort.
Though, as memories come back in, I come to a conclusion: I owe Zhongli my thanks, and maybe another apology.
I tilt the cup of tea back, finishing it despite its temperature, then set the empty cup down on it's plate. I lift from bed, stumbling out to the living area, searching for what I want. I find him lounging, a book open in his hands. He hardly glances up at me, brows raised.
"How do you feel?" He asks.
I ignore the question, striding right for him. I plant a hand on his shoulder, swing my leg over his lap, then crawl on top of him, forcing my way into his hold. His arms come back together behind my back, keeping his book steady.
"Better." I finally mumble, once I'm in his lap.
"Yeah?" He asks.
"I'm better." I mumble, pressing my face into his neck, taking care to breathe in a way he can feel. "Thanks to you."
Close like this, I find the same feeling from earlier, a desire for his hands on me, running along my body, the desire to be wanted. I tilt in closer, arching my spine to press our bodies flush. I land a hand on his chest, and slowly drag it down his abdomen.
"Is that so?" Zhongli asks back, voice low, breathy.
I nod into his neck. "You took care of me..." I continue, dragging my hand lower with my goal in mind, resting my fingertips against his belt. "Now I want to take care of you—" My hand ghosts lower, until I'm resting my palm flat against where his cock sits.
I only make it that far before Zhongli's hand covers mine, stopping my movement, pulling it back. I tilt my head back, looking at him with a confused pout. This is the second time he's stopped me. His face is calm, neutral other than the slight uptick in the corner of his lips, his lowered eyes flicking down my face in a controlled way.
"You can't have everything you want." He says, voice low enough my stomach tightens.
He drops my hand from his hold, lifting his own hand to brush my hair from my face. He grazes his fingers against my cheek, holding his eyes on me until I falter, tucking my chin down, embarrassment burning my skin.
He immediately catches my chin, tilting my face back up.
"What am I supposed to do with you?" He says, then sighs, pressing his thumb to my lower lip. "You disobeyed our contract, broke my trust and—" His eyes flick across my face, calculating. "—you need to be punished for it."
I swallow, retracting my hands to myself, curling them in the loose fabric of the shirt I'm wearing, unable to look at up at him. This isn't what I expected, but—
"I'm sorry." I mumble, tilting my hips to press against his lap, keeping my legs spread. "You can—"
"No." Zhongli says as his other hand drops to my hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold me in place. "What kind of discipline is that?" He asks. "Giving you exactly what you want—" He leans in toward me, until his lips hover next to mine. "Exactly what you're desperate for—" His hand slides up my side, to the bottom of my ribs. "—aren't you?"
I whine, nodding, breaking my thin restraint to roll my hips, pressing our bodies together as close as I can without him being inside of me.
"Please—" I breathe out, not above begging.
Zhongli's hands both drop to my hips, stilling my movement. He handles me with his firm grip, until I'm forced off of his lap. He moves my hips into place, sitting me down on his thigh. He holds me there, his expression relaxed as he stares me down.
"Why don't you show me? Show me how desperate you are." He says.
His leg lifts, pressing against everything bare between my legs, giving a moment of pressure. I nearly buckle, relief and arousal curling in my stomach as I finally feel him stimulate me. Then, he stops. I buck my hips, grinding myself against his thigh, chasing to find the same pressure again.
"That's it—" He coaxes out. "Just like that."
I warm under the praise, looking up at him through my lashes, continuing to move my hips, fucking myself against his clothed thigh. All I have the mind to do is roll my hips, my breaths coming out heavier, cut only by soft moans, the pressure between my legs from my movement enough to stimulate my clit.
"Such a pretty sight—" Zhongli continues, watching me. "—getting yourself off on my thigh." At that, his thigh lifts again, the pressure enough to pull another whine from my throat
His lips twitch to smile as he hears it, his thumbs hooking into the hem of my shirt. He pulls it up, just barely, not far enough to expose more than my thighs. He lifts his leg again, pressing until I gasp, clenching around his thigh with my own.
He relaxes his leg as I whimper, leaning in toward him. My hips buck, grinding at a more rapid pace, arousal burning low in my abdomen. I whine, lifting one hand to his bicep, curling my fingers around it, holding on to steady myself.
Zhongli tilts his chin back, watching me through half-lidded eyes.
"I bet you can cum just from my thigh, can't you?" He asks.
I nod, swallowing around my tongue, struggling to keep my eyes open as I roll against his thigh in a rhythm, fighting to stimulate my clit, everything between my legs dripping wet as it slides together.
"Pathetic little girl." Zhongli sighs out. "Undisciplined, so easy to make finish." He lifts a hand, sliding it up my thigh, until he's holding my waist with the shirt hitched up around his wrist.
He exposes me with the motion, his eyes turning down to watch me grind myself against his thigh with short desperate movements.
"I bet you feel good, don't you?" He asks, briefly flicking his eyes back up to my face. "Do you want something?"
I whimper, nodding, the movement of my hips losing rhythm, unevenly jerking against his thigh.
"Use your words." He says back.
"Please— please— let me cum— let me— let me cum—" I breathe out, eyes fluttering shut as I chase the pleasure.
"Not yet. Keep going." Zhongli says back. "I want to hear you keep begging... those little noises you let out when you're desperate."
I blink my eyes back open, searching his face as I nod. Though his expression remains calm, there's a flush collecting on his cheeks. And, when I look down, I see his cock is standing to attention, the fabric of his pants tight around the length. I whimper out another moan, twisting my hand in the fabric of his shirt on his bicep, changing the pace of my hips to move faster, the pleasure drawing me in.
Zhongli lets out a noise, holding my hip tighter to slow my movement. He leans in, pressing a kiss to my neck, the warmth of his mouth catching my heart in my throat as his lips continue, brushing along my jaw, until he reaches my ear.
"I can tell what you want." He says, voice low. "You always spread your legs for me, beg me to fuck you, like you deserve it." He moves in closer, nipping my earlobe. "Slow down." He demands.
I'm quick to listen, changing the movement of my hips to slow, intentional rolls, careful to stimulate everything between my legs with each movement. He lifts his leg between mine, pressuring until I whimper, arching my back to move with him.
"Such a pretty noise." Zhongli sighs out, relaxing his leg and leaning back again to watch me. "You can be such a good girl when you listen to me."
My eyes flutter shut, heat warming my chest as I bloom from the praise. I move my hips with intent, pleasure at the forefront of my mind.
"Please—" I beg again. "Let me cum, please sir—" The honorific slips off my tongue, followed by a breathless moan.
Zhongli responds with a pleased noise, his hands tensing on my hips.
"Go ahead." He finally assents. "Ruin yourself with nothing but my thigh. Let me see it."
Permission is all it takes, my entire body rocking as I roll against his thigh the final few times, crashing into an orgasm that grips my muscles tight enough I tremble.
I lift from his knee with a broken moan, tilting forward, arching my back as I succumb to my climax.
As I still tremble, coming down from the high, my breathes panted, Zhongli releases my hip, moving to press his hand between my legs. His other hand hooks into the fabric of my shirt, pulling it above my navel, displaying my body to him. His fingers slide against my pussy, eased by the collecting slick. They feel blunt, spreading me open, then—
I gasp as his fingers press to my clit. My still cum sensitive pussy flutters, gripping on air. My body is torn between pressing into it, or jerking away in over-sensitivity. My thighs twitch, abdomen held tight enough to hurt.
"Look at you." Zhongli sighs out, his eyes locked between my legs. "Such a mess just from riding my thigh— spread open like that's all you're good for." He moves his fingers, gently pressing his index and middle to circle my clit, playing with me despite the way I twitch in oversensitivity.
"You're beautiful like this." He breathes. "I can't imagine how beautiful you'll look when I'm inside of you." He says, then finally retracts his hands, landing them both on his belt as he carefully works to unbuckle and open it.
His fingers move quick, intentional, knowledgeable in the way he undoes the clasp. He doesn't go further than that, instead lifting his hand to catch my wrist, pulling it toward his lap. I whine, taking control back as my hand is guided, fumbling to push into his undergarments, wrapping my hand around his cock. He lifts his hips, helping me adjust further, until his cock is free, flushed red with blood, painfully hard, resting against his stomach, exposed.
My stomach tightens just looking at Zhongli's cock. I'm up before I realize I am, sinking to the ground on my knees, directly between his legs. He watches me with a relaxed smile, his eyes half lidded. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, steadying it as he lifts a hand to cup my cheek, helping me guide in. I push my tongue out, making contact with the head of his cock first. I lap at the slit, the taste of his skin salty on my tongue.
Zhongli's stomach twitches, his cock pulsing in my hand as I finally stimulate him back. I lower my eyes, staring only at his cock, then lean all the way in, taking him into my mouth with a soft moan.
I hear a breathy noise from above me, quiet, and force myself to take his cock deeper, feeling it throb against my tongue.
"Perfect— such a perfect girl—" Zhongli praises, running his fingers through my hair, petting me before he grips again, holding tight. "You know just how to make me feel good— so pretty with my cock down your throat—" He moans again as my mouth tightens. I fight to relax my throat, desperate to take him deeper.
I rock my hips against nothing, like I'm still sat on Zhongli's thigh, moans high in my throat vibrating around his cock. I can feel the arousal between my legs, cascading down my thighs, creating even more of a mess as I move my mouth on his cock, sloppy, focused only on making him feel good as I move my head.
I'm doing well if the constant low moans from Zhongli mean anything.
"Just like that—" He continues to praise. "So good—"
I flutter my eyes shut, forcing myself to take him into my throat again, curling my tongue along the shaft of his cock to follow a vein. His cock throbs against my tongue, his abdomen twitching above me. It lasts for only a moment before a hand lands in my hair, holding tight, pulling me off.
I look at Zhongli with a pout, noticing he looks fucked out of his mind, slowly blinking back at me. I move forward, pushing my tongue out, leaning in open mouthed, desperate for the taste of cum down my throat.
I look up at Zhongli through my lashes, begging with my eyes.
He huffs, blinking down at me. "Not yet." He says. "You don't deserve it yet."
Before I can protest, he releases me, moving his hands back to relax on his thighs.
"Up." He demands.
I nod, swallowing around my nerves, lifting back to my feet on unsteady legs. Zhongli's eyes flick down to my thighs, the slick coating them, glinting in the lowlight. His hands move toward me again, landing on my hips, tugging me closer between his legs. Once he's satisfied with my position, he lifts his hands to unbutton the shirt I'm wearing.
He does each button slowly, intentionally, revealing a new line of skin down my chest, down my stomach, following it with his eyes, until he opens the shirt, putting my body fully on display. I fight to not shy away as he drags his eyes along me, his jaw tensing in restraint.
He doesn't hold for long.
Zhongli's arms wrap my waist, pulling me even closer as he leans in, landing his lips on my stomach. His breath is hot as he drags his mouth across my abdomen, pressing a kiss when he sees fit.
I lift my arms, curling them around his shoulders to cradle his head, one of my knees lifting to rest on his thigh. He keeps one arm wrapped around my waist, tight, holding me in place. He drops the other, pushing his hand back between my legs. This time, he has a goal in mind, his rough fingers sliding against the soft skin of my pussy just to wet them, before pushing them further back, until the pads of his fingers just rest at my entrance.
I pull in a sharp breath, my legs tensing in anticipation for him to finally be inside of me, even if it's just his fingers. His mouth moves again, up my ribs, to my chest, his breath hot against my breast, his tongue pushing out to lap at my nipple just as— ah.
I gasp, my body tensing as Zhongli's fingers finally push in, two sinking into me, stretching me out as he curls them up, petting my insides. He distracts me by rolling my nipple with his teeth, a pleased noise low in his throat as I react, arching toward his stimulation, melting into his control.
His fingers are slow, careful to not hurt me as he pumps them in and out of me. I flutter my pussy, gripping down, desperate to feel him deeper. I lift my hands, carding them into his hair to hold tight, still cradling his head as he moves his mouth of my breast up to my collar, scraping with his teeth.
I feel the pressure of another finger resting at my entrance and tense my thighs, already stretched tight. His lips move higher, pressing a kiss to the base of my neck as the only warning I get before the third finger pushes in, pulling a whimper from low in my throat.
Zhongli keeps his stimulation gentle, darting his tongue out to drag it up the tendon of my neck, sinking his fingers back into me, stretching me with the taper of his fingers' girth. I tug his hair tight, tight enough to pull him from my neck, forcing him to tilt his head back and look at me. His expression is dark, unsated, desire apparent. I take panted breaths, staring back down at him as I milk his fingers.
"Please—" I breathe out. "Please, sir."
It's all it takes, the corner of Zhongli's lips twitching to smile as he pulls his fingers out of me, dragging a wave of slick with them. I tilt my head down to watch as he leads that hand to his lap, wrapping it around his cock, pumping and wetting the length.
His hand on my waist drops down my hip, guiding me to turn my back to him. He holds tight, lifting and handling me until I'm spread on his lap, my knees planted to either side of his, his mouth pressed to my shoulder. He wraps my waist from behind, holding me in place to his chest.
His other hand stays on his cock, guiding to press the head of it to my pussy. He slides against me, dragging the tip through everything sensitive, before lining up with my entrance. He holds his cock steady, kissing along the length of my shoulder, to my neck, waiting with his lips pressed to my ear.
"Go ahead." He breathes out. "Take it."
I swallow, nodding, looking down my abdomen, staring at his cock where it connects with me. I lift my hands, curling them around the arm he's wrapped my waist with, digging in with my nails to hold tight as I shift my hips, sinking down on his cock. I feel his stomach tighten against my back, a jagged breath escaping his lips as I finally envelop him, lowering onto his cock until I'm resting in his lap, our bodies fully connected.
I only pause for a moment, small moans slipping from my mouth as I adjust to finally being stretched on his cock. I can't help but move, lifting my knees to bounce in his lap, fucking myself.
Zhongli's sucks in a breath once I move, sharp, tightening the hand he has on my waist to hold me in place.
"Not yet." He says, voice low, restrained. "You don't deserve it yet. Sit." He demands.
I whine, fluttering my pussy along the length of his cock, just barely shifting my hips to keep stimulated.
"Please—" I beg again, desperate to move.
"No." He says back, firm in his resolve. "I want to see how desperate you can get—" His free hand drops between my legs, sliding against my pussy to explore where I'm stretched on his cock.
"Keep begging." He sighs out, dragging his fingers to my clit, evenly pressuring.
"Please, I— ah—" I draw in a sharp breath as his mouth continues to move against my shoulder, tightening down on the skin, sucking to bruise.
I whine as he loosens his mouth, dragging his tongue along the mark to soothe it, then moves higher, sucking another.
"I—I—" I swallow around my noises, hips fighting to move as Zhongli keeps me held in place. "I want you to feel good— please—" I manage to gasp out. "Let me— let me make you feel good—"
Zhongli makes a noise, low, that rumbles his chest where it's pressed to my back. He moves his arm from my waist up, dragging his fingers into my soft skin that gives under his touch, up to my neck. He circles my neck with his hand, his palm flat to my throat. His chin hooks over my shoulder, tilting down so he can watch the muscles of my abdomen tense, his fingers still playing between my legs. The hand on my throat tightens, holding me still, until there's a fuzz in my brain, intoxicating in the way he's controlling me.
"I do feel good." He breathes out. "—watching you like this— trembling little thing—" He squeezes the sides of my throat tight, speeding his fingers to a stutter against my clit.
I whimper, entire body pulling tight enough to shake, being forced toward another orgasm quicker than I can handle.
"You can't even control yourself— all those noises— you're so reactive." He tapers off, voice low.
He slows his fingers to more intentional strokes, dragging my orgasm out of me. I shout, eyes rolling back as the feeling overtakes. I dig into his arms with my nails, shaking through it as I cum in waves. It pulses through my abdomen, making me tighten on his cock. He goes until it's too much, continuing to pet my clit even as my hips jerk, whines constant in my throat, body arching away from the stimulation in oversensitivity.
"Please— sir—" I beg again, whining as tears collect in my eyes.
"You should see yourself—" He continues speaking, unfazed despite the way his fingers finally move from my clit, dragging up to rest his palm flat to my twitching abdomen.
I swallow, fighting to open my eyes, head rolling back, thoughts fuzzy.
"I want—" I start, mumbling. "I want to make you feel good— please fuck me—" I beg.
Zhongli huffs a laugh against my back. "So," he starts, soft, "You want—" His hips adjust, his arm steadying me as he finally snaps his hips up, fucking into me once.
It pulls a guttural moan from my throat, my mentality lost as I melt in his hands.
"—this?" He asks, rocking his hips against my ass before pulling back and snapping them again.
I whimper, managing to nod despite the way my head rolls back.
"Yeah— yes—" I mewl out, completely pliant in his hands.
Zhongli hums in consideration, tightening his grip on my hips to hold me still, then finally fucks himself into me, rolling his hips in a rhythm. The room fills with the sound of our skin connecting, my wanton moans a constant that he meets with heavy breaths of his own, unwavering as he fucks himself up into my lax body.
His endurance might be the death of me, his thrusts never stopping as I bounce in his lap from the force he's using to fuck into me, nearly just along for the ride, holding on tight.
I try to last, but don't make it long before the threat of an orgasm builds again, low in my abdomen.
"I'm—" I whimper out, thighs tensing where they bracket him, before crashing into another orgasm.
It rips through my body, hard enough to hurt, every muscle feeling exhausted, weak. Zhongli's hips never slow. Instead, he fucks into me harder, even as I feel myself cry out, face wet from tears and saliva, digging my nails into his arm deep enough to draw blood.
"Please— please— Zhongli—" I whine, tapping his arm, begging for a moment of mercy.
"Pathetic." Zhongli sighs out from behind me, though, he slows his hips to a stop, holding my stomach as I fight to catch my breath.
I try to relax, fluttering around the length of his cock buried inside of me. I realize, sitting down, his lap is soaked. I must have—
"What a messy thing." Zhongli observes first, rocking his hips against me.
"I'm sorry." I whimper out, flexing my numb fingers, trying to get a handle on myself. "I keep— I— it hurts— it's— I'm sorry."
"We can stop." He says, voice finally soft. "If that's what you want."
I'm quick to shake my head, refusing to finish until he's cum, until I've pleased him. I lift my own hips, fighting the ache in my thighs to ride, rolling back into his lap.
Zhongli hums, pleased, pressing his lips to my shoulder. "Good girl." He breathes out. "That's why you're mine."
I nod, moans high, whined, fighting my own body to ride his cock. I move in rough, jerky motions, lifting as far out of his lap as I can manage, sure to drag the full length of his cock out until the head catches my entrance, then sink back down.
I'm encouraged by the noises that start to slip from Zhongli, low, exhaled moans that come in tandem with each bounce. I steady myself, arching my back to ride with as much fervor as I can muster, colliding with his lap as I bounce.
Zhongli's hands begin to tense, his moans more frequent, his stomach tight against my back. It's almost a relief when his hips snap up, colliding into my movement, his cock jerking to flood warmth low in my belly as he exhales a shuddered moan against my shoulder, throbbing inside of me.
Shaking, I lift to my knees, only for Zhongli to pull me right back into place.
"I'm not done with you." He says, voice steady. "You're staying right here. I'll use you again when I feel like it."
I whimper, nodding. I can feel myself throbbing, milking his cock that remains buried inside of me, the mess between us growing.
Zhongli settles back, one arm still looping my waist, the other reaching to his side, lifting the book he was reading earlier.
It's humiliating, crumbling back to lean into his chest, eyes barely staying open, watching as he occupies himself by reading, all while his softening cock is buried inside of me, twitching every time I clench. Though, the break is needed, pain from oversensitivity fading.
He doesn't let me rest much, occasionally pausing only to fuck up into me, his cock growing increasingly hard as the time ticks on, until he's fully erect, rocking against me again. Though, he doesn't seem to react to it, instead continuing to read even as he tilts his hips hard enough noises slip from my throat.
Zhongli holds, unmoving, unwavering, keeping me split open on his cock until I'm throbbing, arousal low in my abdomen demanding I be fucked again. I squirm in his lap, clenching down, desperate for him to react, hold my hips, take what's his.
Instead, he reads his book like he doesn't feel it, feel me pulsing around his cock buried inside of me, cum and slick dripping from my thighs, my stomach warm where he's filled me.
Every movement becomes torture, every breath forcing his cock to move inside of me, teasing in the way it drags along everything sensitive. He continues to let his hips twitch, fucking his cock up into me with no real intent other than to make me whimper.
I only make it so long before I break, tilting my own hips, carefully lifting my knees to bounce in his lap in short, careful motions.
"Did I give you permission?" He asks, voice low, freezing me in place.
I whine, shaking my head.
"N-no—" I mumble out.
Zhongli sighs, lifting his hands, slowly, carefully marking his page and setting the book down. His arm wraps my legs under my knees, lifting and holding them to my chest. His other wraps my waist, holding me in place, then, he stands, still inside of me, carrying me to his bedroom.
He releases me onto his bed on my stomach, keeping his cock locked inside. He presses a hand to the center of my upper back, holding me in place, then finally shifts his hips, pulling his cock out. I whine, clenching on air, feeling the cum-slick mixture pulse from my abused pussy, drooling out, across my clit and out onto the sheets.
Zhongli lets out a low noise at the sight, pressing his hand firmly against my back, before finally stepping away.
I whine once out of contact with him, shifting to flip to my back, look at him carefully slipping out of his clothes. He peels them off, layer by layer, until he's nude, then finally comes back to pay me attention. I lift my knees, keeping my thighs held together, watching as he watches me.
"You need to learn to obey me—" He sighs as he approaches, landing his hands on my thighs, pulling them apart. "You can't get out of trouble just by spreading your legs open and being my whore, no matter how much favor it wins you."
He digs into the soft flesh with his fingers, glancing down between my legs as he slots his cock against my pussy, sliding against it. His fingers hook into the shirt I still have on, roughly jerking the fabric to tear it off my body, until we're both nude.
Zhongli's hips roll, dragging his cock along everything sensitive while he stares at me, a mess in his sheets, twisting my hands and panting, begging for more.
"No one wants a disobedient girl—" He sighs out, shifting his hands up to my hips and holding on tight. He tugs, dragging me down the sheets until my ass hangs over the edge of his bed. He stands between my thighs, leaning in toward me, holding my spread legs upright.
"I'm— sorry—" I choke out again. "I'm sorry, sir."
Zhongli inhales, slow, restrained, staring down at my face. He shifts his hips back, until just the tip of his cock is pressed to me. He moves his hand until he can wrap the base, guiding it lower between my legs until the head rests just at my entrance.
"Beg." He says, low.
I whimper, nodding, a repeated 'please' spilling from my mouth like breath. I rock my hips, feeling the head of his cock catch as it slides against my pussy, desperation taking over the way I lift my hips, until I'm begging with my body, too.
Zhongli slips into a pleased smile, watching me break beneath him, until his hands tighten on my body again, holding me in place.
"You're such a good girl when you listen." He praises, then finally shifts in, pushing his cock inside of me.
I gasp as I feel him enter, eyes rolling back, scrambling to wrap his hips with my legs. My hands lift to my chest, curling there.
I brace as Zhongli drags his cock out, just in time for him to snap his hips forward, fucking into me hard enough I drag up the sheets. There's no mercy in his pace, the snap of his hips rough, colliding into me as he grips my thighs, trying to hold me in place.
I moan with each thrust, pulsing in tandem with the drag of his cock inside of me. I know I look like a mess, but I'm not present enough to care, instead focused on panting through my breaths as he fucks himself into me, the sound of our skin connecting filling the room.
The drag of his cock is perfect, stimulating everything inside of me, keeping me stretched open. I keep moaning, desperate, held tilted back, barely present enough to watch Zhongli fuck himself into me through my lashes.
I have to tilt my chin back, guttural moans carving my throat, entire body pulling tight as Zhongli fucks me like it's nothing. An ache starts in my core, forcing me to grip harder on his cock. It's a familiar tension in my muscles, dragging me closer to an orgasm, his cock pounding against every sensitive spot.
"I'm— I can't—" I sigh out, turning my face into my shoulder through my whimpered moans.
"Already?" Zhongli asks, never slowing the roll of his hips. "Pathetic mewling thing—" He moans himself, guiding his hand to wrap my throat, loosely holding it, digging his other hand into my thigh.
I whimper through my moan, too embarrassed to look at him, the roll of an orgasm building low in my stomach, close enough to hurt.
"I'm—" I manage to whimper out, before cascading into an orgasm, pussy fluttering around the length of Zhongli's cock.
"So quick." He chastises, seemingly unaffected.
I can feel my body trembling with the effort, it takes to be fucked, constant mewled moans spilling from my throat. I feel messy, used, my hands curling against my chest as he continues to fuck into me. The drag of his cock overstimulates, my cum sensitive pussy making me desperate enough that my thighs fight to close, preserve what's between them.
Zhongli refuses it, dropping both hands to hold my thighs tight, keeping me spread.
"No." He chastises, breathless. "You'll take it until I'm done."
I mewl out, desperate, darting both of my hands down to hold his forearms, digging in with my nails, jerking my hips as his movement never stops.
"Please—" I beg, not even sure what I'm asking for at this point, shaking with the effort, head rolling back on my shoulders. "I'm sorry, sir— please— please— it hurts— I'm sorry—"
I look up to Zhongli, pleading with my eyes. It takes a moment, but his expression finally softens, his thrusts slowing until he's resting with his hips flush to my ass, I continue to tremble, clenching around his paused cock. I jump as his hand connects to my chest, his rough skin tenderly dragging down my ribs and abdomen.
He goes to my own hands, prying them from his arms, lifting them until they're above my head. He slots his hand against mine, threading our fingers together, squeezing tight. The motion grounds me, preparing me for when hips rock, gently stimulating me with his cock again.
"You can do it." Zhongli sighs out, rocking himself into me, carefully moving his hips. "Just keep taking my cock like my good girl." He squeezes my hand with his as he talks, tilting his hips back to drag the full length of his cock out of me before fucking it back in.
"You're perfect—" He praises, even as my eyes roll back, "Such a— such a good girl."
I warm under the praise, blinking up at Zhongli as I come back to my body, stretched open on his cock.
"I'm—" I mumble out, disoriented.
He holds me tighter, leaning in to catch my lips. He exhales against them before we meet, kissing me with an even pressure. I arch into it, heart thumping as I warm from the affection.
Zhongli pulls back, hovering his lips next to mine as he speaks.
"You can do it—" He breathes out. "That's my girl."
I tilt my head back, eyes fluttering shut as I relax against the mattress. The drag of his cock in and out of me continues, gentler than before. He rolls his hips against me, breathy moans of his own escaping, a relaxed look on his face.
Zhongli squeezes my hand tight, a grounding motion, before his hips speed, chasing. I lift my shaking legs, wrapping his hips and holding on for the ride, my lax body dragging up the sheets, until, finally, his thrusts lose rhythm again, stuttered movement matching the moaned noises from low in his throat. I watch his face, until his expression breaks, the surrender of ecstasy taking over. There's a catch in his breath, noises low in his throat all warning whats to come.
I flutter around his pulsing cock as it finally jerks, flooding my stomach, his hand holding mine tight enough to hurt.
He watches my face as he cums, looking relaxed, before coming down, meeting my lips with his hips resting flush to my ass. I'm kissed hard enough my head tilts back into the sheets, trembling body otherwise pliant in his hands. He handles me up the bed, to the center, carefully to stay inside of me. I sigh as he relaxes, pressing me into the mattress with his weight, coming down from the high as our bodies continue to rock together, no real chase for pleasure in the movement, just a desire for closeness.
"I'm proud—" Zhongli starts, pressing another kiss to my lips. "—so proud to call you mine."
I muster just enough energy to smile, lifting my hands to thread them into his hair and hold him against my lips a moment longer, before I fully collapse, exhausted.
Looking up at Zhongli, wrapped in his arms, I watch his face soften. The severity of his expression eases, tension melting from him, until he finally seems relaxed.
"I'm sorry." I mumble again, quiet. "I'm sorry for breaking the contract."
Zhongli smiles, soft, bringing a hand up to cup my face, running his thumb along my cheek.
"I forgive you." He says. "It was a mistake."
His hand lifts from my face, grabbing one of my hands at the wrist. He places it above my head, curling his fingers around the bracelet he gave me to signal our bond.
"If you choose to do it again... I won't hesitate to remind you that you belong to me." He says, pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips.
I nod, eyes barely open, body sinking into the exhaustion that envelops it, finally feeling settled with the spoken forgiveness.
I would never get drunk in the middle of the day.
—but, if it means getting punished like this...
I might repeat the mistake.