Permanent Resident Of Moron Mountain

‘You’re quite the sight like this.’

He smiled down at you, his cheeks flushed in the wavering candlelight. He licked the wine from his lips, swirling the glass in an aristocratic flick of his wrist.

You’d had a taste too. It straddled the boundary between bitter and sweet. Not quite one or so much the other, but it left a pleasant burn at the back of your throat, filled you with the scent of it more than the taste.

You didn’t think you’d be tasting him in the same night. Or that’s where you thought this was going when he’d asked you to kneel. But he’d done little but drink and stare.

You shifted at the first sting of soreness.

‘Getting impatient? But we’ve barely started.’ The glee in his voice was almost evil. Nothing short of “schadenfreude”, as the people of Mondstadt put it.

You frowned at him. He smiled, tipped his head back with another sip.

‘Are you going to do anything at all tonight?’ You shifted your weight again.

‘Oh, but I’m doing plenty already.’

‘Are you?’

‘Goodness, you’re impatient!’ He reached for the bottle and poured himself another glass. He’d just raised it to his lips when he stopped, his eye settling on you.

It trailed on your half-undressed state, lingering on your small-clothes. His throat bobbed. He set the glass aside.

Kaeya shifted in his chair, stretching languidly, much like a stray cat after a successful night of fish-banditry. His legs spread lazily with the movement, his tight pants making no effort to hide the bulge under.

You swore you saw it twitch when he caught you looking.

He leaned forward, resting his cheek on his palm. With every antsy squirm of yours he seemed all the more satisfied. The kind of pleasure you could feel rolling off in waves though nothing really changed. Something your mind saw before your eyes did.

‘Come on,’ he coaxed, patting his thigh. ‘Come here. I know what you want, I've made you wait long enough, haven’t I?’

Finally, just when his promise of fun had begun to dwindle. You leaned forward to rise.

Kaeya clicked his tongue. ‘Ah-ah, not like that.’

You must have looked perplexed because his smile broke into a wide, catty grin.

‘Crawl, darling.’ He clarified, sitting back, the words slow as if he savoured the syllables. ‘I want you to crawl…’ another lazy pat on his thigh. ‘… right over here.’

You rested on your knees once more, your lips twisting into an indignant scowl though heat rushed to your cheeks. ‘I’m not a pet, Kaeya.’

‘Of course not,’ he shook his head with humour, ‘but here you are yipping for my attention. If you want your treat, you’ll do your trick.’

You hesitated, hands fidgeting with his carpet. It smelled faintly of spices. An oil of some kind?

Kaeya watched you, his fingers occasionally tapping on the arm rest. He wasn’t smiling anymore, but his eye glinted with amusement. Or was it anticipation?

You sat back firmly on your heels.

He sighed.

‘No?’ Kaeya gave a little pout. ‘And here I thought you’d be good for me.’

’Make it worth my while,’ you commanded, your chin held high. ‘I might consider it, or maybe I won’t.’

His lips quirked up but he smothered it with a brush of the back of his hand. ‘Bold,’ Kaeya murmured. ‘I love it when you show spine. You don’t have much of it around me, do you?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Ah, see? You’re bristling over so little.’ He laughed. His teeth tugged on his lip as he considered you, his palm rubbing up and down his thigh.

‘Make it worth your while, eh?’ The rubbing paused. He sighed, leaning his head back to stare at the walls.

The bedroom was admittedly sparse compared to his rich living room; lacking the shelves of keep-sakes and souvenirs that doubled with every expedition. The walls were bare and there wasn’t much beyond his bed and desk, though you’d found there was plenty of room to walk. Or crawl, as he intended.

The call of your name snapped your attention back to him.

‘Bored, are you?’ He quirked his brow.

‘How could I not be?’ You scoffed. One corner of his mouth twitched upward again, though it wasn’t quite a smile. ‘All you’ve done is guzzle wine and stare at me … like I’m some exhibit.’

‘You say it like it’s a great offense, but the way you squirm tells me otherwise.’

‘— and that’s because I’m getting sore playing mannequin!’

He gave a sympathetic hum but his face betrayed no pity. ‘Yes, poor (Name), all sore and eager. If only they listened to Kaeya, then he’d make it all better. Alas!’

‘Kaeya, I will bite you—‘

‘Oh?’ He grinned, face lighting up instantly. ‘Then you’ll have to crawl over here to do it anyway.’

Your fingers itched to rip at your hair. Or his. Mostly his.

He raised his palm. ‘Alright, alright. Why don’t we make a deal? You crawl over here—‘ he pointed to the spot right between his feet, ‘— and I’ll “make it worth your while” as you say.’

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously.

‘Promise,’ he mimed a cross over his heart. The sight would have been sweet had he not left you high and dry.

A heavy, mournful sigh slipped from you. Your pride was begging you otherwise, but you leaned forward on your palms, lifted your hips with your weight on your knees.

Maybe you’d expected surprise. Or a victorious laugh. You got neither from him.

‘There we go.’ The words were barely above a whisper.

You bit your cheek as you crawled over, bit by bit. But you knew, if it had burned — really burned — you’d use the word. He knew it too. Perhaps that why he seemed so pleased, that you got off of this as much as he did. That this tug-of-war kept you coming back night after night, straddling the line between bitter and sweet, straddling him between desire and … and what?

Not that. Definitely not that.

The graze of his thumb on your chin brought you back to his apartment, his room, to your seat between his spread thighs.

He was smiling, really smiling this time. ‘I knew you’d do it.’ His fingers combed through your hair, pushing it back from your face. ‘Because at the end of the day, you’re good. You’re good, aren’t you?’

You gave a small nod and he pinched your cheek. ‘Yes, you are.’

The zipper was loud in the dark despite the rush of blood thrumming in your ears.

You leaned forward.

A soft gasp left his parted lips.

He reached for the wine anyway.

An unguarded Kaeya is a surprisingly quiet Kaeya, not in the sense he’s silent but that his usual theatrical mannerisms (expressive hands, knowing looks, practiced smiles, his near constant amusement) are muted.

He’s the kind of man who takes winding down as seriously as getting the job done, and it shows in his post work routine. He doesn’t care if the more traditional sorts call it “unmanly” or “foppish” (assuming ofc that real word stereotypes carry over to the Genshin universe, highly unlikely considering the character designs though) but he takes his time with skincare and hair treatments after all that field work (you might hear him tutting over split ends or breakouts caused by nights spent on the road for longer missions). If Reader is interested, he’s more than happy to include them — especially if they’ve never paid attention to either before. So self-care nights are spent laughing over how silly the other looks with a face mask on or advice on which ointments to use or avoid.

Taking a bath together though is something that’ll take some time to suggest. He’s not too eager to show his scars (or take his eyepatch off) so it’ll take a fair couple of months of earning his trust until he suggests it. He’s playful, bringing it up casually with that charming grin of his, but his voice cracks when he laughs and averts his gaze when you say yes. The first bath could be awkward in the beginning (especially if you two haven’t had intercourse before and this is the first time you’re seeing each other undressed) and he attempts to hide his unease through conversation. You may have to make the first move to make him comfortable, offer to help each other bathe. He’s tender then, careful. His fingers press into your back as he rubs soap into your skin, and maybe teasing you with a tickle. He’s good with his hands too, picking out spots where he assumes your tension gathers. He’ll sigh pleasantly when you return the favour, leaning into your touch. A comfortable silence will settle as he just soaks in this moment of care, musing on the strangeness of this intimacy which seems to transcend that of the more sensual kind. The first shared bath is unlikely to lead up to anything though, however the ones after might. But for now, he’s content letting you comb your fingers through his scalp and rub the stiffness from his shoulders… then return the favour tenfold of course. He still wouldn’t take his eyepatch off though.

There’s also lazing around on the couch together on off-days. He’ll sit down with some reading while you do your own thing beside him. A conversation isn’t necessary, but it’s the quiet comfort of living in someone’s space— and them choosing to live in his— that he appreciates. If you are in the mood for a chat, he’ll indulge you. His favourite ones are those that invite thought, not tethered to everyday life or, Archon’s forbid, politics. But if you have something to rant about or yap about or confess, he’ll lend you both his ear and words.

If he’s free, he’ll help you cook too, flip a coin to decide the dish and all. His choice recipes are the foods that are designed to accompany wine; either included in the recipe or paired with it. But if you aren’t one for alcohol, he won’t mind whipping up a mocktail either. If you’re the one cooking… he’ll still try to pair your dish with wine, but he’ll help you with chopping vegetables, toasting seasoning, etc. Expect him to talk your ear off about whatever “culinary secret” he knows while he does it though. He’ll also attempt to juggle some of the vegetables… only to miscalculate at the last moment and send them tumbling on his feet. He’s laughing, but it hurt. Help him.

Tosses the coin for sharing chores. He doesn’t want to do them, and you also probably don’t want to do them, so why not let fate decide on your shared torture (if you do enjoy chores, he’s pleasantly surprised but will feel guilty and help you anyway). He whistles as he works, and if you can’t he’ll try to teach you. If you can, you two can try to whistle something together, he’s certainly game. You’ll also catch him attempting the more undignified experiments — like swinging the broom like his sword — things no outsider would dream of seeing the elegant, suave Cavalry Captain do.

Snuggling in bed is his favourite way to end the day. There isn’t much pillow talk here (unless it’s one of those nights where his eye is heavy but his brain is screaming) and he’s out in a few minutes. He’s a snorer, but it’s quieter than most, oddly grounding if you’re the one with insomnia. He prefers to sleep on his right side, but rotates through quite a few positions. Sometimes you’ll wake up with his arm thrown over your belly, sometimes sprawled like a starfish, other times curled like an infant. It usually ends with his cheek pressed against your shoulder, or some part of him touching you.

I did mean the degradation kink, yes (got confused hehe 💀).