Blessing of Virility

Citlali had started complaining the moment the door shut.

Aether put a stop to it the simplest way he knew. He bent the shaman over the nearest couch, hiked her hips, and drove into her until the head of his cock kissed her cervix and stayed there, grinding in slow, claiming circles that turned every protest into a wet, broken sound. Her tsundere noise collapsed into muffled moans against the cushions. Each time she tried to form another objection he simply pressed deeper, the blunt pressure against that inner mouth enough to steal the rest of the sentence.

(https://im.ge/i/QMeVsAD)
(artist: miyu)

He did not look particularly busy while he did it.

Zibai sat across from them with the unhurried composure of someone who had seen gods use mortals and mortals use gods. Aether kept one hand on Citlali’s hip and the other free, posture easy, as if the woman spasming around him were background rather than the entire point.

“Zhongli talks,”
Zibai said.
“That is already unusual. He talked about you more than he talks about most things.”

Aether hummed, rolled his hips, and felt Citlali’s cunt clamp down in another helpless flutter. “He compared me to people from the war?”

“He compared you above his own from that time.”
Zibai’s gaze flicked once to the place where Aether disappeared into the shaman, then back to his face, unbothered.
“I was his main sleeve through most of it. The split made the centuries afterward feel shorter than they were. For me it has not been that long since I last filled that role.”

Citlali came with a strangled sound, cervix kissing the head of his cock as her body tried to pull him deeper. Aether fucked her through it without breaking the conversation, the wet slap of skin punctuating Zibai’s even tone.

“I was also the one they prayed to in Liyue when they wanted more hunger and more children,”
she continued.
“Heightened libido. Fertility. When I heard what you have been doing across the nations I assumed you had inherited the blessing somehow — a leftover of the journey, a stolen scrap of an old god. Meeting you corrected that.”
She tilted her head, studying him with the same calm she had used on Morax in another age.
“You carry no such thing. Whatever makes you take root in anything that will have you is yours. Not mine.”

Aether smiled, slow and a little pleased, and ground into Citlali’s cervix again until the shaman’s complaint died into a raw, grateful moan.
“Good to know. Would’ve been awkward if I was just borrowing your homework.”

Zibai’s mouth curved. She did not look away from the place he was using Citlali, and she did not look impressed in the way mortals usually did. She looked like a woman confirming a rumor with her own eyes and finding the rumor insufficient.

“Then we will find out what it actually is,”
she said.
“After you finish silencing that one.”

Citlali made a furious, muffled noise that might have been her name. Aether answered by pinning her hips and making out with her cervix until the noise turned sweet again, the conversation with the old fertility goddess never once losing its unhurried, almost polite rhythm.

Zibai did not fidget and she did not compete.

She arranged herself on the adjacent lounge like something left out on purpose — on her side, one knee drawn up, the line of her hip and the open invitation between her thighs displayed without a trace of urgency. Eyecandy with patience. She watched Aether finish the work of shutting Citlali up and made no move to hurry him.

(https://im.ge/i/QMeVqaY)
(artist: miyu)

“I would not mind giving you any blessing I can still muster,”
she said, as calmly as she had spoken about the Archon War.
“Even more so while you make use of me. I was his favorite cocksleeve. That is not a title I offered lightly then, and I am not offering this one lightly now.”

Citlali clenched around him in another ruined little climax, forehead pressed to the cushion, whatever complaint she had left reduced to a wet, rhythmic whimper. Aether kept grinding against her cervix until the shaman’s arms gave out, then glanced over at the woman waiting like a painted offering.

“You don’t have to pay admission with a blessing,” he said. “I’m going to use you either way.”

Zibai’s smile was small and unoffended.
“I know. The blessing would be extra. Fertility, hunger, the old prayers people used to burn incense for. If any of it still answers to me, you may as well have it while you are already inside the source.”

Xilonen slid in from the side without asking for a turn.

She pressed herself along Aether’s flank, one bare breast flattening against his arm, and dragged her tongue up the shell of his ear in a slow, idle lick while he was still buried in Citlali. The shaman twitched. Xilonen ignored her.

“Blessing him is a good idea,”
she said, voice low and practical, the same tone she used when she corrected his hips.
“ If that old fertility scrap of yours still works, this is the window to actually put a child in anyone following us in line instead of just filling them and hoping”

Zibai’s gaze flicked toward the kitchen doorway, unhurried.
“It would take. That part I can still promise.”

Aether huffed a laugh against Citlali’s shoulder and rolled his hips once more, keeping the tsundere quiet.
“You’re both very helpful.”

“I’m a teacher,” Xilonen murmured, nipping his earlobe. “And she’s wasting a perfectly good wombs going home empty.”