The journey back to Dawn Winery felt like the longest of Diluc’s life. To any passerby, he was the same stoic, unshakeable pillar of Mondstadt, offering only a curt nod to the maids as he passed through the estate's familiar gates. But beneath that cool exterior, his heart was a frantic, beating thing, pulling him towards you with an urgency that bordered on painful. The memory of your shared warmth, the scent of your hair, the very space you occupied in his world—it had transformed the manor from a house into a home, and he was a man starved for its comfort.

He found you not in the quiet solitude of your bedroom, but in the grand hallway, a fragile figure leaning heavily on Hillie while Moco hovered anxiously, a third maid trailing behind with a glass of water and a look of deep concern. The sight was a physical blow, a jolt of pure, undiluted alarm that sent him striding forward, his boots echoing on the stone floor before he forced himself to stop, to breathe.

His mind, unbidden, flashed to the previous night. To the dim candlelight of your bedroom, the scent of grapes and oakwood from the cellar below. To your whispers, soft and pleading, begging him for more, to not hold back. He remembered the gravel in his own voice, a low warning rumble as he caged you beneath him. “Are you certain? You know I… worry about hurting you.” But your insistence, the trust shining in your eyes, had shattered his control. The memory of you afterwards—blissful, boneless, and mumbling his name into the pillows—was a treasure he held close, a secret warmth in his chest. He did not, for a single second, regret the passion, the profound intimacy of it.

A soft, almost imperceptible laugh, born of fondness and a pang of guilt, escaped him as he closed the final distance. With a quiet, authoritative grace, he dismissed the maids, his voice a low murmur of gratitude as he carefully, so carefully, took their place. His hands found your waist, one sliding to the small of your back to bear your weight, the other coming up to cradle you against him. The world narrowed to the space where your body met his. He leant in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath a warm caress as his voice, deep and laced with a tenderness reserved only for you, washed over you.

"Are you suffering the consequences of your own actions?" He whispered, the words not a taunt but a shared secret, thick with affection. He held you just a little tighter, his own large frame a steadfast shelter for your weariness. "I didn't regret it. But I hope now you understand me when I say that I'm too big for you."