A/N: I was commissioned for a Sequel to Loose and Casual. You don't really need to read that one first, but you should.
Morax indulges, as many do.
Osial's cock is plenty impressive. Hits all the right places and satisfies well enough. He's certainly an easy man to find because once Morax calls for him, the alpha comes immediately. Utterly whipped, a searing phrase that the spoony bard used quite often.
Thing is, though, while it's good, it isn't what Morax wants. Not truly. Osial's cock might hit those good spots, but he doesn't quite find the perfect ones. Osial takes care of him well enough but lacks the ability to play Morax's body like a finely tuned erhu.
Always close, but never quite there, and that's the most infuriating of all, thinks Morax.
He isn't one to break his contracts, he would never dare. But time wears on as the decades pass, and like even the most hardened stone, he still weathers. This time, when Morax fucks Osial, he thinks of someone else instead. Another man, slighter in stature and with the perfect cock. A lilting and teasing voice that only sings as he whispers into Morax's ear.
Only for him, of course, no one else.
Morax knows the agreement that they've made. How they've insisted on remaining as free as the wind that blows through their lands. Maybe it's because he's old now, but Morax sees the world a little bit differently. He feels a little lonely within it from time to time.
Unlike Barbatos, Morax doesn't let Osial knot him. And Osial is fine with it, despite the dirty murmurs that are whispered into Morax's ear. Even though he teases, Morax knows that Osial would never abuse his moment of weakness. That's a contract as well, one written in literal stone.
Their tryst this time ends rather quickly, as usual. Osial is satisfied; hazy, and punchdrunk in his lazing about. Morax, though, still feels like his skin is on fire. He came and finished well enough, but to thoughts of Barbatos instead, closing his eyes and imagining that he was the one driving into him.
His oldest, most valued friend. The worst part is, Morax doesn't even feel bad about such thoughts now, he relishes them. He packs them away into a neat little box and tucks them straight into his heart. It's enough, he thinks. Pretending is enough.
Osial murmurs his thanks as Morax slips from his bed and dresses. He never sticks around long after meaningless fucks like this. Even with the casual nature of his relationship with Barbatos, there's always been a difference from the very first time.
His skin itches the moment the soft silk of his jacket touches it. Odd.
Morax rights himself and leaves without a word.
#
He's halfway home when he realizes that he's in heat. Or nearing it.
Morax has tucked himself into a darkened corner for a moment, leaning against a wall, his forehead soothed by the cool, carved stone of a building. Liyue Harbor bustles all around, paying him no mind. It won't be long before an alpha smells him.
He needs to move, even if he isn't a weak little thing. So unlike other omegas, a literal Archon in his right. Still; even his instincts can get him at the worst of times. He has to find his way home sooner than later.
Morax's mind spins as he whirls through the market, nearly tripping in his haste. What on earth, he thinks. This isn't as scheduled, there are months until his next cycle.
Apparently not, is the rather dry thought that passes through his fogged brain next. He's unbearably hot under the collar and he sticks his finger into the sweaty material to tug it away from his skin.
He must have triggered it early with all of his bothering want. Such is the nature of omegas at times; needless thoughts of togetherness often bring out their worst. Or best, depending on how you looked at it.
Morax's old enough to have a better handle on it. He's supposed to be unmoving as a stone, especially when it comes to his carefully formed agreements. This has never happened before.
His apartments are a welcome sight. He locks the door and shucks off his shoves. Fingers find the buttons of his jacket nimbly and he sheds his clothes easily. He's still clear-headed enough to gather what he wants— snacks, a pitcher of water, a cloak that Barbatos once left, and Morax hoards.
A soiled towel from their last fuck that Morax never washed.
Perhaps he's more pathetic than he realized. The signs have been there longer than he'd care to admit. This isn't the time to linger on such thoughts, though. Morax tucks into his sheets surrounded by what little of Barbatos's scent he can muster.
He's never had a heat that's snuck up so quickly, where he's fallen into his instincts so readily. He wonders why but he knows the answer—
Morax whines pathetically as he palms his half-hard cock. His cunt's already leaking, slick coating his thighs. Morax's belly is already coiling tight, his gut aching to be filled. His fingers should be enough; one, two, and then three.
He lays on his front, chest against the mattress as he fucks against his hand.
For once, it isn't enough. His brain short circuits, his need fogging his entire being. He moans and whines and curses into his pillow, already drunk on his heat, already slipping into those hedonistic instincts. It's good, so good. Nearly there, nearly there, his fingers large as they press in and against the right spots, but—
"Barbatos," he murmurs into his pillow, brain hazed with lust as his other hand finds his cock despite the awkward angle. It's a minor betrayal that he whispers into the soft silk, a not-quite broken contract. And yet, Morax keeps chanting his name in breathy little sighs. "Barbatos, Barbatos, Barbatos—"
He comes so quickly it's embarrassing, his cunt squeezing his fingers tight.
#
Barbatos swears that he hears his name on the wind, a chant that repeats over and over in a fervent song. Reprise after reprise, carried by the breeze.
Then he feels it, that strange tug in his heart. The bond that he readily ignores, left accidentally after fucking Morax once a little too tenderly. It should've faded years ago. Never did.
Barbatos isn't dumb. He knows why. Bonds don't fade when the feelings are real, but he's never mentioned anything because they have an agreement, even if Morax likely wouldn't mind, despite their contract.
It's natural to carry some sort of affection for your regular fuck, especially between two people where things are just so damn easy. Barbatos has known Morax since he became a being, a tiny little gust of wind that willed himself into existence. How can he not have feelings?
So, Barbatos feels pulled towards Liyue Harbor. Worry settles deep in his gut. Something is wrong, he can practically taste it. Morax is in distress, such a foreign feeling. It tastes sharp and bitter. Smells even worse.
Barbatos used to only answer when called with clear and distinct intent, but over the years they've indulged in their friendship. Lunches spent together on calm afternoons. Walks along the beach when they're both bored. He's forgotten exactly when it all shifted.
Morax won't mind if he double-checks, if only for his sanity. Barbatos isn't the type for nagging worry, but this feels like something that shouldn't be ignored.
He hesitates, considering for a moment longer. Then he packs up his harp, adjusts his cape, and is gone with the wind.
#
When Barbatos arrives at Morax's home and climbs in the window, he's assaulted by many smells.
Distress. Acrid loneliness. The salty tang of tears. Sage and dirt and stone.
Heat.
Barbatos immediately freezes, his grip on the windowsill tightening so much he nearly cracks the frame. He knows this isn't scheduled, he knows Morax's cycles like the back of his hand as his chosen partner for the last several decades.
This must be unplanned, judging by the upset that he smells. Something tugs deep within Barbatos's chest, telling him to go help. Relieve him. Help him.
Fill him full of pups.
Barbatos swallows thickly.
"I shouldn't," he whispers. Their carefully worded contract lingers in his thoughts, despite the bond that subtly settled between them all those years ago, despite these errant feelings of deeper want.
Barbatos presses a fist to his forehead, weighing his options. Gods, he wants to slip into the room and breed Morax full. Tell him what a good mother he'd be, how blessed he'd look round with their children.
He can hear him through the closed door, Morax keening as he cries out. And then—
"Barbatos." It's a choked yell, punctuated by tantalizing smells. He's calling for him, even now, blissed out in his heat, imagining that he's here.
Certainly doesn't help Barabatos's dick, which is hard and tucked against his thigh.
"Just a peek," he says calmly, "I'll just peek in and see if he's okay. Bring him some water. I've done that before." Because he has. Despite being a dedicated partner, Morax sometimes chooses to spend these times alone. And Barbatos too, when his rut's concerned.
The door creaks open and Barbatos nearly chokes on the smell of the room, nostrils flaring as his fingers dig sharply into his palm. "Morax?" he asks, risking a glance.
He's greeted with the sight of Morax, ass in the air, four fingers deep into his cunt and fucking it furiously.
It isn't a new sight, of course. Barbatos has seen him like this more times than he can possibly count, but something about this feels wholly different. It goes straight to his dick, pleasure slipping down his spine, calling to that instinctual voice deep inside him.
Morax turns his head slightly, eyes glazed and leaking tears into the sheets, his red liner smudged. Even as wrecked as he is, the moment he sees Barbatos, there's a flash of clarity. "Barbatos," he begs, "Barbatos—"
Barbatos can't turn him down no matter how he tries. Even though he should. Still, he goes to his side, smoothing a hand over Morax's backside gently. "Shh," he soothes, "I'm here."
"Please."
"Morax, you aren't—"
"I know what I want," interrupts Morax, "It's your fault."
Barbatos frowns at that and pulls back. "Mine?"
Morax's hand is still pressing into his cunt and Barbatos finds it hard to look away. He watches as Morax thrusts his fingers in deep, spreading his hole wide. So slick and wet, and ready for his cock, ready to be bred.
Barbatos swallows again, his mouth going dry.
"I want— Others, they don't— I know there's an agreement, I know the contract that we laid out, but still it happened. I feel things, I want things, and when I'm with others—" He's babbling, nearly crying the words.
"I don't want to hear about others," says Barbatos quietly, that slow-burning anger of instinct welling in his chest. Even if he knows he's the one who gave Morax the freedom to pursue other alphas, that they agreed on this— he doesn't want to know about it unless it's to hear how better he is in comparison.
"Please," begs Morax again, pulling his fingers out and presenting his pretty cunt, his folds swollen and slick. His tapered, small cock is hard as it strains and hangs below him, twitching cutely, begging to be touched. "I only think of you, more and more."
Barbatos slides a finger into Morax, groaning at how easy it is. "Who was it?" he asks, mildly curious, the small flutter of jealousy rising. He slips in a second finger, marveling at how Morax's cunt sucks them right in. His heats are always prime for the taking, wholly indulgent and the stuff of dreams, but even Barbatos has never seen Morax quite this desperate.
What a sight to behold.
"Osial," gasps Morax, grinding back against his hand.
Barbatos is kind enough to add a third and pump his fingers in, and Morax moans in response, wiggling his hips.
"And you're sure that he didn't spark this unexpected problem?"
"No." Barbatos is surprised by the harsh hiss, Morax pressing his face into his pillow like the mere idea of it pains him. "When it's others, I close my eyes and think of you. So good to me, so perfect because you're my—"
Morax's words die with an embarrassed moan and Barbatos's fingers pause. "Your oldest friend, no doubt," he says with honest humor. Barbatos leans forward to press a kiss against Morax's asscheek. "The only one who knows how to take care of you right? Because we've practiced so, so many times."
"Because you're my mate," says Morax suddenly.
Barbatos certainly doesn't expect to hear that, Morax acknowledging a bond that he clearly recognizes. He hasn't entirely lost his inhibitions yet, and despite his hazy eyes, it's early in his heat and they're clear enough. He knows exactly what he's saying.
"Mate," repeats Barbatos with wonder. A word that neither of them has ever uttered during these times of intimacy, even if they've both known instinctually. And of course, he's thought about it— biting at Morax's neck and staking permanent claim while he drives into him as deep as he can go.
"Please, please. Fill me up," begs Morax, beloved words that Barbatos loves to hear in his most desperate moments. Then, Morax adds, "Breed me."
New words, uttered so quietly that it sounds nearly pained. Morax has lost himself to his heats plenty of times, but never so far as to request something so wholly gone. He begs so sincerely, arching against Barbatos's hands.
Barbatos's instincts flare to life. His cock strains harder than ever before. But still—
He removes his hand gingerly, smoothing his fingers along Morax's folds. Across his backside and around his cock as he leans forward and lays across Morax's back. "Morax," whispers Barbatos near his ear, "Think of what you're asking."
"Please tell me that you feel it," says Morax, "I've— This, I know. This, I want."
Barbatos sighs, dropping his forehead to rest against the back of Morax's sweaty neck. "Yes," he says, "Gods, I—" He can't even bring himself to tease Morax about it. Instead, he pecks a kiss against the side of Morax's head, then noses at his neck. He soaks up that addictive scent, the one that drives him insane.
He's dreamt of it for decades; sage, rich brown earth, that strong stone that Morax rends with his own hand. So powerful, despite being an omega. And he's all his, begging to be bred.
"Gods," says Barbatos again, nipping at Morax's neck. Morax whines in response, wiggling his hips. "Patience," he murmurs, sitting back again. "Though, clearly not your strong suit," he finally teases, sliding his thumb through those wet folds once more.
"Bar—"
"How many times have you come?" he asks.
Morax is embarrassed, turning his face to hide it. Barbatos lets him, chuckling. "That many? Thinking of me?"
"Always," says Morax.
Barbatos doesn't even get undressed properly, he's too impatient. Just undoes his pants and grips his cock. So hard and ready, precome pearling at the tip. There's plenty of time to play later. For now, he just wants to lay his claim, which Morax has so eloquently begged for.
"Amazing," says Barbatos, running his hands along Morax's soft skin. "So beautiful for me."
He can be more so, Barbatos knows it. When Morax loses himself entirely to his pleasure, he's more dragon than not. He wants to coax him into it, wants Morax to just give in and slip so far that he finds it hard to hold onto this form of his.
Barbatos settles against him, sliding his thick cock along the cleft of his ass. Morax raises his hips, and Barbatos's thumbs find his cunt, spreading his glistening folds. "So wet," he murmurs, thumbing through the slick there, "Fuck, so, so, perfect."
Then he presses in. The slide feels like it takes forever, Morax's cunt deliciously tight around him. Morax moans, already pressing back against him, already forcing his cock deeper. Barbatos squeezes his hip with bruising force.
"Patience," he says again, readjusting his knees on the mattress for a better angle. Morax's legs are so long in comparison to his but they always figure it out, well-practiced and well-known.
Morax was surely made for him and him alone.
"More," begs Morax in a pinched moan.
"More what?"
And maybe it's cruel, but Barbatos likes to hear it, his precious omega begging for him.
"Alpha," he hisses, and Barbatos moves. Slides his cock out to the tip and then thrusts back in. He fucks him with a leisurely pace, just enough to truly enjoy the tight grip that Morax has around him.
"Warm, and tight," says Barbatos against Morax's ear as he leans forward, "Perfect for my cock."
"Barbatos," groans Morax, trying to meet his thrusts. Barbatos can tell that he's already tired, having spent so much time trying to get himself off with his fingers. He presses a kiss to Morax's ear, filling it with dirty words. He's usually drunk on wine, but this time it's on power and the smell of Morax's heat, and the way that it permeates his every pore.
Can't get enough, he thinks, even as he fucks into Morax's perfect warmth. He pulls his cock out and Morax hates it, scrabbling against the sheets, fingers pulling at the silk.
"Shh," he says gently, "Turn over, that's all that I want."
"Alpha," murmurs Morax as he complies. And when he's settled on his back, Barbatos nearly loses his breath.
"So beautiful," he tells him, dragging a hand down Morax's front. The muscle there, the severe lines of his side. So different than most omegas who are soft and round, Morax is hard-packed with long limbs. But he loves it, Barbatos loves that neither of them is the standard; a perfect match in every way.
Then, he imagines, his fingers ghosting across a nipple. Morax with breasts, swollen and leaking milk. His fingers ghost the ridge of his hips, thinking about how they might widen. His hand slides down and dips into Moraxs's navel, his palm flush against his abdomen. And round, too, full of their child.
He'll be so perfect, thinks Barbatos, the most wonderful partner. Mother. Whatever he wants to call himself.
"It's been a fantasy for so long," says Barbatos softly, before grabbing Morax's hand and bringing it to his lips. He nuzzles along the knuckles before peppering them with kisses, scratching that soft little itch that begs for something sweet and domestic before they lose themselves to their carnal desires.
"Do you really want this?" he asks earnestly, his voice a little hoarse with want.
Morax blinks back at him and swallows. "Yes, yes—"
It's enough for him. Barbatos plunges his cock back inside and Morax's cunt accepts it greedily, relaxing to allow him right in. Morax's moan is a filthy thing, low and guttural. Eyes half-lidded and debauched. Cheeks bright pink and skin flushed all the way to his sternum.
Morax wraps his long legs around Barbatos's waist, pulling him closer. Barbatos leans forward, pressing his nose into his neck, against that well-loved gland that's haunted his dreams and the best of his fantasies.
He fucks into him faster this time, Morax's cock bouncing gently with every thrust, ridged and with a tapered head, leaking all over his stomach. Small and cute, perfectly shaped for Barbatos's hand. But he won't touch it— not yet, even though Morax wants him to. He can tell.
"Please," Morax says, wiggling his hips again. He meets his thrusts and takes what Barbatos gives him. "Please-"
Barbatos bites at the base of his jaw. So close. Nothing dangerous, nothing binding, just the kind of mark that'll bruise neatly in a different kind of claim. "No," he murmurs against Morax's skin, licking the sweat from it, relishing the salty-sweet taste. "You're going to come on my knot while I breed you full."
Morax moans, a whining, purring thing from the back of his throat, and his cunt tightens around Barbatos's cock deliciously. "Fuck," he says near Morax's ear, "You want that, don't you? To be so good for me?"
Barbatos hoists Morax's hips higher and spreads his thighs, fucking into him at a different angle. Morax howls, fingers scrabbling against the bed and pulling at the sheets, and fuck if Barbatos doesn't eat it right up. The way that Morax takes him so well, spread wide around his cock. How his wet and tight heat seems to pull him in and welcome him.
He leans forward again to press his nose into Morax's neck, nipping at the gland there.
"Please," begs Morax, his voice soft and keening, "Please."
Not yet, thinks Barbatos, licking a stripe across his neck, taking in the pleasant and sweet smell of him. "Soon," he murmurs against him, and Morax's cunt tightens at the word.
It's hard to keep the leisurely pace, especially with Morax bucking against him so eagerly, and so Barbatos leans back to fuck into him quicker, the snap of his hips hitting with more force. Morax's head tips back against the pillow, baring his beautiful neck, and Barbatos drags a hand down his front, letting his fantasies fill his thoughts again.
Except they aren't fantasies this time; Morax has made his wish clear and Barbatos will stake his claim. His knot begins to take shape at the thought of it, pleasure spreading through his belly the closer he tips to that edge.
"Alpha," murmurs Morax, blissed out and face ruddy, eyes tear-stricken with overstimulation. He's so beautiful when he's entirely gone. Barbatos could watch him forever.
"What do you want?" he coos, smoothing a hand down the curve of Morax's side. He imagines it, his hips wide and ready for their child, and the thought of it settles deep in his gut and causes his thick cock to twitch.
"I want—" Barbatos thrusts into him with a particularly hard drive and Morax cuts off in a cry. "I— I— Mate—"
Barbatos nearly crumples at the resulting whine. He leans forward again, nosing against Morax's neck, drinking in that earthy and addictive smell of him. Fuck, it's nearly too much. His tight cunt, how slick it holds him as he drives his cock in. The way that Morax keens underneath his grasp, fucking back against him, begging.
His knot swells just enough to tug at Morax's hole.
"Knot me," begs Morax, lifting his hips, trying to force it in. And oh, how Barbatos wants to slip into his tight heat and never leave. And he will, he will, but first—
Barbatos reaches between them and circles his fingers around Morax's cute little cock, slicking it with precome and sweat and spit. He pulls at him, his hand warm and tight, and Morax tightens around his dick, overwhelmed by the sensation.
They're so close, entangled and practically one; Morax's legs hitched high over Barbato's hips, squeezing him tightly. Barbatos fucks into him like he might die if he doesn't, and it's too much and too little, all at the same time.
The scents, intoxicating— stone and sage, heat and mate, mate, mate. Barbatos's mouth goes dry and his head is empty of any rational thoughts aside from breeding Morax full.
His knot slips in, sliding home, filling Morax's tight cunt. Barbatos rolls his hips, grinding in deep, moaning into Morax's neck, teeth just grazing his scent gland.
"Fuck," murmurs Barabatos into his neck, "Look at how well you take me."
"Bar—"
Barbatos keeps grinding against him, his knot pressed into all the right spots. "What would others think? Morax, God of Geo, a man of military and martial law— spreading himself so eagerly and begging to be filled."
"Barbatos."
He nips at Morax's neck, his teeth just barely tugging at the skin. "Wanting to be bred and carry my children. Is that what you want? A clutch of your own?"
"Please," begs Morax, drunk on the lust of his near orgasm, tearing up in his overstimulation. The word comes out as a punched moan. "Please."
His golden eyes are mostly clear, despite the debauched haze that comes with his heat. He grasps at Barbatos's hair, his fingers pulling at it tight, and then he moans the words over and over again— Alpha, please, please, please—
Barbatos fucks into him again, slower, with languid strokes hampered by the thickness of his knot nestled deep. But it's enough.
Morax keens underneath him as he comes, insides quivering around Barbatos's cock, thighs tensing around his waist. Barbatos comes too, his dick squeezed unbearably tight, slicking Morax's insides with his come and filling him up.
His mouth latches against the inside of Morax's neck, teeth sinking in and biting down with intent. Morax jerks underneath him and cries out so perfectly. One hand yanks at Barbatos's hair and the other curls into the soft silk of the bedsheets.
"Mate," says Morax, his voice a low, cracked moan.
Barbatos worries at the abused skin with his mouth, his tongue snaking out to lap at it. Morax sighs as he sinks deep into the pleasure of it all— how Barbatos fills him up; those instinctual urges wholly satisfied after being fucked full to the brim; how well his knot sits, nestled deep.
And now, the bite mark, the fulfillment of that centuries-old bond they've shared. Barbatos inhales deep and shakes at the thought of it, more emotional than he'd thought possible. He's wanted this— always wanted this.
Always thought it was out of touch because of an ill-formed, dated contract that they held.
But now, Morax is his and they are tied together. And in the soft afterglow of their heated lovemaking, it's all that he can think about as his breathing settles, and his heart bursts with joy.
"Our contract," whispers Barbatos a little bit later. They've repositioned themselves and lay on their side, Barbatos plastered against the long length of Morax's back, his now-soft cock still buried inside of him. "We've broken it."
Morax hums softly. "A contract is only as strong as the intent behind it."
"That—"
"There wasn't much of a contract to break." Morax sighs, and then says quietly, "I think that we made such an agreement out of what we thought was a necessity. For those like us… it's easier to not be tied down. And for you— well, I wanted you to have the freedom that I know you crave."
And Barbatos does crave freedom, it's practically carved into his being because he is the wind itself, but—
"Eventually, the heart wants what it wants," says Barbatos softly, hiding against the back of Morax's neck. "Even if I wish to roam free, I always find my way back to you."
Morax presses a soft kiss to Barbatos's forearm, where it drapes around his front. "I have never doubted it, the bond." A pause, and then— "And now, you are my mate." He says the word with awe and wonder, and Barbatos feels embarrassed and warm all over.
"I should have— This probably wasn't the right time to…"
"Are you regretting it?"
Barbatos starts at that. "What?" he hisses, pulling back. "No!"
Morax shifts, Barbatos's cock falling out of him with a soft squelch. Morax turns, pushing at him, and Barbatos finds himself on his back.
"Let it be known," says Morax, leaning over him, his golden eyes gleaming, "I do not regret what I have asked for, Barbatos, and I will ask for it again."
Barbatos's mouth goes a little dry at the prospect, his hands finding Morax's hips as his newly bound mate settles astride him. "Oh?"
Heat simmers again, washing over both of them. Morax's scent permeates, that well-known stone and sage weighed down with a different sort of spice. Wanton, thinks Barbatos. Morax is about to lose himself entirely to the rest of his heat, and he rolls his hips across Barbatos's quickly hardening cock.
"Breed me, I asked," he says, pressing a large hand against Barbatos's front, claws dragging down the smooth skin of his belly. "I think that we should make sure that it takes."
Barbatos grins, and they fall into each other all over again, relishing in their newfound freedom of expression— and dare he say— love.
#
It comes as no surprise that their efforts come to fruition. Morax's heat stretched on for an eternity, and Barbatos fucked him through the entirety of it.
The difference this time, though, was that they didn't part at the end. Not immediately. Barbatos lingered far longer than he usually does, hands pressed against the soft swell of Morax's stomach, imagining that it was a child instead of his come.
Morax preened, sinking into the touch and the feel of him. They dozed in the bed in the hazy aftermath, whispering quiet words of affection.
Barbatos tried. Barbatos stayed for as long as he could, his cheek pressed to Morax's middle as he listened and dreamed— much to Morax's amusement. But then that beloved freedom called for him again, tugging at his being.
Alpha, he might be; and yes, there's a deep, instinctual urge to stay here with his omega, with his mate. But Mondstadt also calls to him and as their Archon, he must go.
"I know," said Morax to him one night, far too quiet and understanding. "If there was ever a person who would know, it would be me."
In another world, Morax would come. But, like him, he has a duty to his own, and so he lets Barbatos go with a soft kiss to the forehead, and a ring of cor lapis wrapped tightly around his finger. Morax stood on the balcony of his home that overlooks the harbor, and said, "Besides, you said it yourself— no matter where you roam, you always come back to me. With that, I am content."
Barbatos watched him as he drifted away until Morax was nothing but a tiny speck.
And now—
Morax looks so good underneath him, crying out as Barbatos slides his cock right into his slick warmth. Still so tight. Like he never left. Barbatos sighs as he sets a slow, languid, and indulgent pace.
"My mate," he murmurs softly, his voice lacking its usual teasing intent. "My precious, precious mate."
He's been gone too long. Barbatos roamed as he does until he felt tugged back home— which isn't Mondstadt. Not anymore. His home is where his heart is, and that's now settled deep into his beloved omega.
Morax is a sight for sore eyes. Long limbs and alabaster skin; the sharp lines of his face carved out by high cheekbones; and then, his stomach, round and swollen. Barbatos climbed in through the open window of the apartment, only to be greeted by his mate, heavy with their child.
Barbatos lays on his side as he fucks into him slowly. He nuzzles his neck with his face, pressing his nose right into his scent gland. Morax smells delectable, like the grounding, rich earth— and something else, something new.
Their child, he thinks, sweeping his hand down Morax's side before settling on the swell of his stomach. Barbatos can feel it there, the thrum of new life. That which they created together. The alpha inside him grumbles with pride.
"Can you tell?" he asks, whispering against the back of Morax's neck. The skin there is smooth, salty to the taste. Barbatos nips at it gently. "A new adeptus, brimming with power."
Morax moans, rutting back against him. "Yes," he murmurs into the pillow, hips rolling as he meets Barbatos's movements.
"Ripe with it." Barbabtos's fingers splay wide across his belly, smoothing over the skin as he caresses it lovingly. "We've done so well, you've done so well."
"Barbatos." His name comes as a pinched and breathy moan.
"I'm sorry." Barbatos punctuates the word with a soft kiss against the baby hairs of Morax's neck. "It took me so long to find my way back, but what a sight I was greeted with. Tell me, did you miss me?"
"Yes," breathes Morax.
Barbatos sighs, rutting into the tight heat of Morax's cunt. Oh, how he's missed this. Morax, keening in his arms, and the way that his insides flutter around his dick. Those soft, breathy sounds that he looses from his throat when Barbatos fucks him nice and slow.
It's rarely like this— leisurely and indulgent. Barbatos thrusts into him as though he has all the time in the world. And he does, really, he isn't leaving any time soon. His roaming has come to a halt because his heart begs to be full of his mate once more.
And now, their child.
"Did you touch yourself?" he muses, his lips curled in a tease. Judging by the resulting whine, the answer is a resounding yes. What a picture that would be— the kind that Barbatos would compose songs about.
Maybe not. This is the sort of sight that's now for his eyes alone. My, how things have changed.
"I— fuck—"
"So tight," whispers Barbatos into his ear. "You must've been aching." He lifts a hand, fingers soft over Morax's fuzzed antlers. "So desperate that you've been reduced to this."
It's the baby, thinks Barbatos, already knowing that the toll of carrying a child is a strain on the body. Geo swirls around them as Morax slips more and more. Barbatos loves that he's more dragon than not, and he relishes the way that Morax's cunt tightens around him in response.
"It's— hn, oh my gods—"
Barbatos bites at his swollen scent gland gently, teeth scraping against the scar that's already there. "Shh," he soothes, "I'll take care of you."
"Alpha," whines Morax pitifully, "Mate. Please."
Barbatos preens at the way that he begs so well. His hand finds Morax's chest, plump and swollen as well. "Soon," he croons in Morax's ear, "I can imagine it now, how sweet you'll taste."
Morax grabs his hand tightly and pulls it down to his cock instead. Barbatos huffs a soft laugh as his hand wraps around it. "Oh, so desperate, aren't you? Last time I saw you like this, you were begging to be bred full."
"Yes." It comes out as a hiss, Morax shifting against him, raising his hips so that Barbatos can fuck in at a better angle.
"You loved it," he says, eagerly fucking into Morax, settling deep and grinding against him with every downwards thrust. He jerks Morax's cock lazily, his grip loose and casual. Morax whines and sighs, and wriggles against him.
"Yes, just like that." Barbatos's fingers ghost over the ridges of his cock as he palms over the tapered head. And then he grips the base tightly. "But not yet. I want you to come on my cock alone."
"Barbatos, please—"
"Come on," says Barbatos, licking across Zhongli's ear. "It's been too long, let me see you."
"You've seen me," says Morax, "Now be a good mate and fuck me."
Barbatos pauses. He smooths a hand down the long expanse of Morax's leg, loving the stark difference in their heights and bodies. "I love that about you," he says finally, fingers gripping into Morax's softened hips. "Your temperament. Your spirit. How you love to make demands and tell me what to do."
"I've missed you," says Morax, "But I've also missed your cock—"
"Gods, I love you," says Barbatos, quietly. Unexpectedly and in the moment. Perhaps he should feel annoyed at Morax's quip, but all he feels is fondness and affection. He's never said it aloud, though they both know; such feelings have never been a question, not with the bond they'd nursed for what feels like centuries.
But it's different when said audibly in the sanctity of their space. Only them, there in the bed, and the smell of sex and devoted adoration.
"Oh," murmurs Morax, his cock twitching.
"You like that, hm?" Barbatos chuckles as he slides his cock in deep. "Because I do. It's why I always come back to you. My home isn't Mondstadt, or Liyue, or even the errant breeze— it's wherever you are. And now—" He cradles Morax's belly again, where their child rests, sleepily.
"I— I—"
"You're close," says Barbatos, his voice a whisper, curling in Morax's ear. "I can feel it, how you tighten up around me. So perfect and all mine, my handsome, handsome mate. You'll be such a wonderful father."
He doesn't thrust faster, but he changes the angle. He slides in deep and hits a perfect spot, one that leaves Morax trembling in his grasp. One handle holds a swollen breast, thumbing over an aching nipple. The other smooths over Morax's rounded belly in circles.
Morax keens, spreading his legs wide, pressing back against him. "Full," he murmurs, "So, so— Celestia."
He comes so easily, cunt tightening as he cries out Barbatos's name, milking his cock for all that it's worth. Barbatos loves it, the way that Morax sounds so broken, how he looks so debauched and lost. The feel of their child, settled heavy and seated low. It's a sight that he could look at for days, weeks. He'll never get tired of it.
That's the thought that drives him over the edge as he comes, spilling deep into Morax's sopping core. The thought of fucking his mate full with child after child, a robust clutch of their own. He moans against his neck, taking in the spicy, pregnant smell of his mate.
The charged energy of their lovemaking fades, and the room falls quiet and content. They're tired. Sweaty and sticky. Barbatos's cock is still buried deep in his mate's cunt, where it'll likely stay for the rest of the night.
Morax sighs softly, contently, and he tugs Barbatos's hand to his mouth. "I love you," he says, kissing the back of his knuckles. "Not that it needs to be said."
Barbatos laughs, and it sounds like wind chimes in a breeze.
And for the first time in centuries, he feels finally at peace.
#
The night is quiet.
Barbatos floats on the wind, weightless like the air. He smiles when Liyue Harbor drifts within sight.
The apartment door is left unlocked, but Barbatos prefers to slip in through the window, his mouth tugged into a boyish grin as he clambers over the wind and slides open the glass.
Lanterns burn low, casting an orange glow across the dark and empty hallway. He removes his shoes and pads across the wooden floor, silent as the breeze.
He roams, as always, his heart bursting to be set free. He gets itchy if he's in one place for too long, his brain overrun with errant and unwanted thoughts. But eventually, he longs for something else, someone else.
Barbatos always comes home; it's a contract that he'd made, sealed in blood and love, and the ring that wraps around his left finger. No matter the distance, or the time that's passed, he always, always comes home.
Morax is awake, shushing a crying child. It's been only a few months, but it feels like years. When Barbatos enters the room, their son falls quiet, hiccuping breaths filling the space instead.
His mate freezes. And then he turns. Morax looks tired, circles under his eyes, hair disheveled, his robe half falling off his lanky frame— but oh so good. A sight for sore eyes. Barbatos crosses the room and smooths his cold fingers across the forehead of their child who's settled against his mate's hip.
"So big," he murmurs sweetly, ruffling the boy's hair. "Look, Quinn, Papa's back!"
"Qianfan," corrects Morax, as though they don't lightheartedly argue about this every time.
Barbatos kisses Quinn's forehead. Then, he reaches for his mate, lifting a hand to curl around the base of Morax's skull. He yanks him down, pressing their foreheads together. "My mate," he murmurs, "My son. I've missed you both."
Morax purrs softly, relishing in his presence. Presses a soft kiss into Barbatos's forehead. And then he says, "Come, let's go to bed."
Barbatos does. He takes Quinn into his arms and bops his little nose. He sings him a soft song full of rhymes and descriptive prose, and it takes no time for sleep to tug his son right under.
When he slips into the crisp, silk bedsheets, Morax immediately wraps himself around him, sighing as he nuzzles Barbatos's hair. And then his neck, soaking up his scent, falling slack around him. "I missed you," he says. And then, "I love you."
Barbatos sinks into him, letting his mate pull him close. "Yeah," he murmurs sleepily, tiredness falling over him as Morax murmurs quiet, soft words into the back of his neck.
Sage and earth. Morax curled tightly around him, knees tucked into the backs of his, an arm around his waist. Most alphas would fight it off.
Barbatos isn't like most.
