Archive of Our Own

1.

Childe is many things, and one of those things just happens to be a red-blooded man with certain needs. What’s he meant to do, be apologetic about needing to jack off every so often? He’s probably the only harbinger who’s still human enough to do so, and isn’t that some sort of metaphorical badge to (not) display proudly?

Liyue is hot, almost stiflingly so, and so it’s always a relief when he finally gets back to his room and he can strip off his uniform and lounge in something more comfortable, sprawling out on his bed in just his boxers. This is the sort of luxury you don’t get in Snezhnaya, where being naked not under the covers is a kind of blood sport, and just because he's a harbinger doesn’t mean he can’t indulge.

So he indulges, slides his hand down his stomach and dips into his boxers.

Hot weather, hot blood, and all that.

He’s not hard when he curls his palm round his length, but it honestly doesn’t take too much to get him going - a few easy strokes, a few swipes over his head and he pushes his head back against his pillow and closes his eyes.

Fantasies aren’t that hard to come by, either. He cycles through various thoughts as his dominant hand works his length and the other reaches down to push the band of his boxers down. The air isn’t cool here, it never is, but it still makes him hiss a little when it breezes over his vulnerable skin. He imagines he’s revealing himself to a lover, someone pretty, someone who’ll touch him like he is now - steady strokes with one hand, just the right amount of pressure against his slit, their other hand perhaps cupping his balls. Someone who’ll flush in arousal as they work him, who’ll give him a show of flushed skin when they strip for him and spread their legs enticingly.

I wonder how big the funeral consultant is.

He’d met Zhongli for the first time only a few days ago, and already he’d made a strong impression. He’s not exactly surprised then that the man would feature in an idle fantasy, not when he positively drips sex appeal. Childe just knows, in his heart, that Zhongli is big. Is he meant to be ashamed of being attracted to a pretty man who probably has a big cock and probably knows how to use it? Of course not, that would be preposterous.

He closes his eyes, and pictures Zhongli, all broad-shouldered and high-cheekboned, and wonders what he looks like naked. If those nails beneath those gloves are short or long and if they’d dig into his skin as he’s fucked, if he shaves or trims or neither and if he’d feel the curls against his own, if he’s more fat or muscle for Childe to grab at. If there’s a v that he can trail his fingers down until he can wrap them around the base of a hot and hard cock.

His own cock twitches at the thought. He bites his lip, and speeds up his hand, ignoring the sound of skin against skin.

Would he stay all proper and prim in the bedroom? He has the aura of someone who likes to stay in control, and with his looks he must have experience. Childe can more than get with that, a Zhongli who wouldn’t be afraid to manhandle him a little and would put his worldly knowledge to use to please him. Maybe he’d be willing to wrestle around a bit in bed, a contest between the civilian and the military man that’d end with both of them coming.

The heat curls in his gut, and he mentally reminds himself that he can take his time tonight, that there’s no need to rush through this. He swipes his own precum and slides it down his skin, shuddering as he rubs over a sensitive spot. His other hand wanders, cups his balls, rolls them, and his toes twitch at the sensation.

Or maybe Zhongli’s a blushing virgin. That would be cute. Maybe they’d swap roles if they had sex, with Childe teaching Zhongli something new for a change. He can’t help but snort a little at the mental image of Zhongli being shy and unsure about anything. It doesn’t seem right, but then again, he still barely knows him.

He slows his strokes, letting his hand pause at both the base and at his head, trying to drag this out. If it was Zhongli’s hand… that man has the aura of an edger, he thinks. Maybe Zhongli would go even slower than he is currently, and talk to him all throughout. Keep him on the brink of coming until when he does, he sees stars and shudders in the other man’s hold.

Childe moans as he does come then, keeping his strokes up as he shoots ropes of cum on himself and soaks the fabric of his boxers until there’s nothing left, and melts into the sheets, feeling delightfully relaxed for once.

He has lunch again with Zhongli tomorrow. That’ll be nice. He dimly wonders what random facts about Liyue cuisine he’s going to learn as he slinks himself out of bed to clean up.

2.

Childe doesn’t usually get lie ins, which means when he does, he usually tries to make the most of them. There’s few pleasures that beat the way a bed dips around you and a duvet cradles you and your own body heat envelops you in the morning. Sleep had tugged at him and then ebbed away, leaving him feeling cosy and unwilling to get up, caught between both states.

He pushes his face deeper into his pillow, hoping to keep the dregs of his dream close. It’d been one of those filthy ones that would leave him slightly embarrassed were he not still caught up in the memory of it - there’d been Zhongli (of course there’d been Zhongli) bending him over his desk at the bank, thick cock carving into him, palm flat against his back and pushing him against the wood and leather.

“Ajax,” Zhongli had growled, his thrusts hard and deliberate, each one crushing Childe’s hips into the desk and making him wail. In the dream there’d been no need to hide his cries or quieten his delight at being fucked so thoroughly, no need to worry about the consequences of a harbinger being wrecked in a workplace by a mere funeral consultant of all people.

It’d been a good dream though. His cock is a testament to that - it’s still hard, tip wet with precum, and despite his sleepiness there’s a bit of restless heat still dancing through his veins.

The sensible move would be to collect himself, get up and take a cold shower before he spends too long in bed. Sensible moves aren’t really his forte, however, and he rolls onto his stomach to feel his sensitive skin rub against his bedsheets.

Ah… if only his dream could be reality. If only it didn’t rely on so many like factors, like Zhongli being willing to fuck him, and Childe being willing to risk his professional dignity, and Zhongli having a cock that would fill his hole just right.

Trapped between his stomach and his bed, his cock throbs, and he thrusts his hips just a little for that friction, pleasure sifting through his nerves, and then he does so again, his groan muffled by the pillow. It would be so good to be Zhongli’s plaything like that, to be knocked down a peg by the older man and fucked until he’s a trembling mess. The Tsaritsa’s mighty vanguard, pinned down and taking the cum of one of Rex Lapis’, desecrating a Fatui building and his own desk with sweat and cum-

Without raising his head, his arm reaches out to the other side of the bed and hooks around the pillow, dragging it to him to shove under his hips.

“Zhongli,” he mumbles as he starts to fuck the pillow in earnest, his precum staining it no doubt, but how can he care when all he thinks of is Zhongli, how satisfying his weight over him would be, how hot his skin would be, how much he would fill him.

No matter how hard he tries to keep hold of them, the remaining threads of his dream slip out his grasp, but he weaves his own new ones as they do. Maybe Zhongli wouldn’t bend him over, but lay him out on his back, dragging a gloved finger down his chest to his dripping cock.

He pushes down on the pillow harder, looking for more friction, the haze of sleepiness lost, the bed frame creaking. The cloth wrapping around him feels obscene, but he’s sure it would pale in comparison to the glide of Zhongli’s tongue against him, lapping at all his most sensitive parts with the pinpoint accuracy he has come to expect from the consultant. The pillow by his face muffles his own noises as his hips rut faster, harder against the closest he can come to a human body right now.

It’s just so easy to picture, criminally so, Zhongli taking him apart with those soft looking lips grazing over his aching cock and two fingers (would Zhongli keep those gloves on or not, he can barely think of the question because either answer is just so good) buried deep in his hole.

“Zhongli, fuck…” he pants out, feeling his own saliva slip out the side of his mouth. Would those golden eyes rake over him the same way he appraises items at the market? He wonders which part of him would be highest in Zhongli’s eyes - perhaps it would be his cock, and the way it throbs and drips with any attention, or perhaps it would be the warm planes of his chest and abs, or perhaps it would be his ass? His hips stutter and grind against the pillow at that thought of Zhongli’s eyes settling on his cheeks and regarding his curves the same way he does when he sees something he wants. Childe’s well acquainted with the look and what it means, and the idea of Zhongli having the same look directed at him - spreading him to expose his rim for the same appraisal and judging it to be something worthy, to be used and abused - pushes him close to his orgasm.

With one last hump and one last slide of the wet cloth against his sensitive head, he feels himself shudder and stain the sheets further, dick twitching as he releases.

He doesn’t move for a few moments, until that daze slips off and he rolls away from both gross pillows, one coated in drool and the other cum, his sweat making the sheets stick to him.

Well. That’s the end of his lie in.

3.

When Childe pushes open the door to Wangsheng Funeral Parlour, he is greeted by Hu Tao rather than the Ferrylady for a change.

“Are you here to whisk away my consultant?” She says in lieu of an actual hello or good afternoon, feet kicking against the side of the reception desk that she perches on.

“Uh, yes?” He tries. He supposes that is technically correct - Zhongli and he have a lunch date and he is here because it’s a bit nicer to walk together to Luili Pavilion.

“He’s in his office. Maybe you can drag him out,” Hu Tao says, uncaring of the potential damage her heels are doing. Childe thinks Zhongli would probably comment on that, but he isn’t here and Childe isn’t a snitch, so he thanks her and heads on to Zhongli’s office.

This isn’t the first time he’s seen it, which is why he’s not surprised or awed by the amount of tomes and things that are kept in this room. Instead, his attention falls squarely on Zhongli, and his state of undress. The man’s taken his coat off.

He never takes his coat off. Childe’s mouth dries up surprisingly quickly considering he can still see the same amount of skin (that is, none).

Zhongli, for his part, seems surprised when he looks up from the open books laid out over the desk. “Childe - ah. Is it that time already?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our lunch date, xiansheng.”

Zhongli smiles warmly at that. “I assure you I haven’t, but perhaps I lost track of time a little.”

“Well, we’re not late for it. Yet, at least.” He quirks his head towards the desk. “Busy morning?”

“Director Hu and I are having a minor disagreement. I am attempting to find evidence to back up my knowledge. But it can wait, easily.”

Zhongli stands, and Childe ogles over his shoulder to waist ratio now that he knows it isn’t falsely buffed by his coat. It doesn’t seem fair that a nerd can have a body like Zhongli’s.

“You know, if you were in the middle of something you can finish it up,” Childe says, fully aware that leaving means Zhongli will put his coat back on, and he’ll probably never see him without it again.

But Zhongli just shakes his head as he rounds the desk. “Of course not. I would not dream of holding you up here.” Childe watches as he crosses the room to the chair over which his usual coat is resting, and drinks in the sight of the way his waistcoat seems to hug and define him. You’d have thought he’d never seen anyone undressed the way he’s acting.

Zhongli slings his coat over the crook of his arm, and dazzles Childe with a smile. “Come, let us go.”

They only make it to the doorway before Zhongli clicks his tongue. “Wait just a second-“

Childe turns around to see Zhongli turn back, and coat still in arm reach over the desk for-

He isn’t sure what, because he doesn’t look at Zhongli’s top half. Not when Zhongli’s ass, usually hidden, is right there and centre in his vision, the fabric stretching in a way that he thinks is so obscene it ought to be illegal.

Has Zhongli always had such a plump ass? He would have noticed earlier, right?

It’s only a second or two, but that second or two is long enough to make Childe live one whole lifetime of new fantasies. He can’t decide what he wants to do more to it, give it a playful spank or a firm grope, but he definitely wants to do one of them - both of them - more.

Zhongli turns back round, smiling innocently because he doesn’t have a clue about the thoughts going through Childe’s head. “Thank you for waiting. Now, let’s not be late.”

“Huuh-yeah,” Childe says, or tries to say at least. He’s been rendered speechless by an ass. This has never happened to him before - where exactly did this funeral consultant come from?

It haunts him. Zhongli’s always been attractive, but it seem so patently unfair that he’s allowed by Celestia to be so attractive and so perfect in all of Childe’s tastes. And allowed to have an ass so round.

Zhongli slips on his coat as they leave the office, mournfully hiding it from view, but well, Childe’s always been blessed with an overactive imagination. Frankly, the struggle is not remembering it, not committing to memory how it had looked so perfectly sized and shaped for his hands or how meticulous the stitches in the seam had been. What wouldn’t he give for it to happen again, but no trousers in the way, and then he starts to wonder about what kind of underwear Zhongli wears. It’s probably something unsexy but if anyone could make it work, it would be Zhongli-

“Childe. Am I boring you today?”

“No,” he replies instantly, out of sheer impulse. They’ve walked almost all the way to Luili Pavillion now, and it’s frankly embarrassing how easily he zoned out.

“Then is there anything troubling you?”

Yes, there is - the fact that Zhongli isn’t naked and in his bed is very troubling. “Not really, Zhongli-xiansheng, just work. You know how it is.”

“Ah,” Zhongli hums lightly, with no clue as to what kind of lewd thoughts are running through Childe’s brain. “I understand. I am sure, however, that you will find a way to get through whatever is ailing you.”

No, he won’t - not unless Zhongli very abruptly decides he’s down to dick Childe. But he can’t say that, so he laughs it off, and tries to think of something more appropriate.

He’s a Harbinger, the Tsaritsa’s vanguard, survivor of the Abyss, and yet oh by the seven is he bad at thinking about anything other than what else he’d like to eat than the food that Zhongli orders and is placed in front of him. And poor, sweet Zhongli, all the while rambles, unaware he’s dining with a man who is fantasising about having him bent over again, naked from the waist down with a hot, wet tongue running over his hole. His tongue, to be precise, lavishing attention on his rim and dipping in.

He can’t do this. His chopsticks barely touch his fish, he pays far too much attention to Zhongli’s mouth and not the words coming out of it, and he really ought to get laid if one glimpse of (clothed) ass is really doing this much damage to his brain. Thinking that Zhongli’s handsome? Been there, done that. Jacking off to thoughts of Zhongli? Old school by now. But being so distracted by him that he can barely come across as a normal person? Well, that’s new. “Excuse me, Zhongli, I’m going to the bathroom.”

Zhongli frowns just a little and just for a second, a twitching of his brow. “Of course.”

Childe wiggles out of his seat and scoots his way through the restaurant to the bathroom, and he heaves a sigh of relief once the door is locked behind him.

“Get yourself together, Tartaglia,” he mutters to his reflection in the mirror. “Stop being horny.”

Unsurprisingly, that does little to the half chub in his trousers, so he splashes his face with cold water, and considers something drastic, like faking his death or climbing out the window.

Why is he like this? Sure, it’s been a while since he’s gotten off but surely- Okay, evidently not, evidently he really needs to keep his own libido in check.

He glances at the door. Still locked.

Zhongli would wonder why he’s taking so long.

It’s a bad idea. A really bad idea.

Shame Childe’s a sucker for bad ideas. He can be quick! If he’s this worked up without trying to be, it’ll be a piece of cake.

He quickly reaches down to unbuckle his trousers and slips his hand into his boxers. His dick practically jumps in delight at the sensation of a hand wrapping round, even if it’s his own, and he bites his lip.

The picture in his head that forms is again of Zhongli, back in his office and bending over, except this time he’s craning his head and fluttering his long eyelashes at Childe, telling him to take what he wants.

It’s a recurring fantasy that Childe has used many times before - Zhongli just so grateful at Childe’s ridiculous spending habits that he just has to show Childe his appreciation… It’s what he needs right now where he can’t afford to dilly dally. The hand in his boxers sets a quick and firm pace, and the one rests against the tiled wall, his mouth pushed against his wrist to hide any noises he might let out. He closes his eyes and focuses on the mental image he’s painting here - a deep voice, muttering in his ear, the slow careful unbuttoning of a heavy coat, pupils wide with lust. Zhongli thanking Childe for footing the bill as he sinks to his knees and unbuttons Childe’s trousers, rubbing those soft looking lips against Childe’s cock.

“Let me do this for you,” Zhongli would say, or something like that. “It’s only appropriate that I repay you for your generosity.”

Childe grips a little harder and closes his eyes to imagine it all better, willing the mental image of Zhongli slobbering on his cock and swallowing him down to become clearer and sharper in his head. Sometimes in these fantasies Zhongli’s still prim and proper, clearly inexperienced in a way that makes Childe’s blood burn - but today the Zhongli in his head is desperate and messy, spit leaking out the corners of his mouth, golden eyes staring up at him, obsessed with the sole goal of making him come as hard as possible.

“Ah-” Childe hisses, and then sinks his teeth into his arm, his tongue rubbing against his own hair there. It’s just such a pretty image - such a pretty man, so debauched, so wrapped round Childe’s finger he can do as he pleases with him. In his head, he threads his hand into those soft brown locks, curls his fingers round them, wishes he could feel it in real life, and pushes the other man’s head further down. What wouldn’t he give to have Zhongli’s nose nestled in his pubic hair, to experience the intimacy of his throat and the way those soft muscles would spasm, to hear the wet noises it would produce?

Instead, he’s stuck in a (nicely furnished) bathroom, unable to hear anything except the distant chatter of patrons and skin against skin. He gathers the precum that beads at the tip of his head to make the glide easier, and uses it to set the pace faster. He needs this release, anything to keep him acting normal around Zhongli when all he wants to do is undress him and use him?

Childe groans into his arm as his cum finally spurts onto his hand and the tiled wall, and for a few moments, he stands there, chest heaving. The post-nut clarity, when it hits, is a flood of embarrassment through his body.

Is this a new low? It has to be, he ruminates as he grabs wads of toilet roll to wipe clean his own mess.

He washes his hands and splashes cold water on his face for good measure, and then reflects once again on his life issues before he goes out to face Zhongli again.

4.

It’s a hot and sunny day, and Childe wonders if maybe it wasn’t the best day to show off his physical prowess to Zhongli.

Not that he isn't up to it! Of course he is! Just being in the warm, direct sunlight for hours on end while doing any sort of physical exertion might make him a tad more flushed and sweaty than he’d appreciate in such company. He’s here to wow and (maybe, hopefully) make Zhongli swoon a little, not to pant and secrete his body weight in sweat. Sweat patches aren’t exactly the height of sexy, after all.

Truthfully, this was Zhongli’s original suggestion - he’d made an offhand comment about Childe’s martial prowess, and of course Childe had latched onto that like a dog with a bone, and then it had come out that Childe needed to work on his archery the most. Zhongli’s suggestion to watch Childe and give some tips on his posture had the same effect as throwing a starving man into a pot of soup.

Now, they’re in some clearing Zhongli had led him to in the Liyuen countryside, with Childe doing his best to make this look as effortless as possible. Yeah - the bow’s his worst weapon, but it’s not as though he’s bad at it.

Zhongli claps after Childe manages to hit the target - not a bullseye, but close enough - and his voice seems to ring out from where he has settled himself on the grass. “Most impressive.”

“You really think so?” He blurts out before he can stop himself, turning to grin at Zhongli. Childe’s a simple man - some (imaginary) combat and some praise (given by a handsome funeral consultant) and he’s happy. It’s hard not to be proud in such circumstances, when it’s the most esteemed Zhongli focusing all of his attention on him. If only he could kill something for real - and show off his battle skills for real - but this is supposed to be a simple archery showcase slash lesson. Maybe one day he’ll get to kill something and have Zhongli romantically collapse into his arms- no wait, Zhongli would never get blood on his coat. Childe scraps that mental image. Zhongli, meanwhile, nods. “Of course. Your abilities with a bow are both spectacular and deadly. I am surprised you described it as your worst weapon.”

How could he not preen at that? The warm tone, deathly serious in its compliment, makes something warm and gushy squirm in his innards. Maybe it was actually the best idea to do this on one of the warmest days they’ve had so he can pretend it’s a flush from the heat and not from the way Zhongli makes him feel.

“I wouldn’t think that you of all people would underestimate one of the Tsaritsa’s best soldiers,” Childe says, but unfortunately it comes across as less flirty and more breathless.

Still, despite its lacklustre delivery, Zhongli chuckles. “Of course not. However, you still have some points that you could improve on. May I?”

“Of course! That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

Zhongli gracefully stands up, running his hands over his coat (how is he still wearing that in this temperature? The only reason Childe’s wearing a shirt is because he doesn’t think he can take the arousal of being shirtless in front of Zhongli alone) and strides over, smiling so prettily.

Definitely a good idea to keep his shirt on. The idea that Zhongli’s amber eyes have been roving over his body, studying him for areas of improvement is enough to send a little bit more blood south than it ought to, and now that Zhongli’s coming closer and closer - being shirtless would make him pop a boner, hundred percent, and it’s not like Zhongli wouldn’t notice like this.

“Overall, your posture is very good, and you clearly have the strength for a warbow. But may I suggest…” He trails off, and oh archons, his face is so close now. Childe counts Zhongli’s bottom lashes, and the creases in his lips, and swallows. Zhongli’s never been this close before, and the light makes his hair so shiny and highlights the cut of his cheekbone so well. His irises look molten and alive in a way he never thought possible before. It takes all of Childe’s military training to not buckle at the knees right then and there.

Zhongli’s touch is gentle, but sure, and Childe lets him adjust the angle of his elbow and push his foot against his to widen his stance with no resistance (because how could he resist?) and tries to think about the looks on the other harbinger’s faces if he gets back to Snezhnaya and has to tell them he’d spent all of his mission in Liyue chasing one common (in rank only, for sure) man. Each touch sends a spark through Childe’s nervous system, little pricks of heat sparking through him and testing every inch of his resolve in a way he’s never encountered before. This is the first time they’ve touched, and despite Zhongli’s gloves (and shoe) being in the way, it’s better than he ever could have imagined. When he finally kicks the bucket, no doubt this memory will flash before his eyes.

The little pleased hum Zhongli lets out should be criminal.

Then Zhongli steps round to Childe’s back, and his hand just so gently rests in the small of his back, searingly hot like a brand.

Keeping his shirt on was the worst decision he’s ever made in his life. If he hadn’t there would only be those damned gloves in the way of Zhongli’s hand running over his back, and yes it would be impossible to keep any sort of composure in such circumstances, but oh it would be so worth it. He wants that gaze to linger on his back muscles, to have it run over every inch of shining skin he bares, to have it followed by the touch of a finger - he wants to tempt for once.

But sadly, Zhongli’s touch leaves him all too soon, and he’s now both too cold from the lack of it and too hot from the memory of it at the same time.

He’s still recovering when Zhongli dips forward, his hair brushing against the back of his neck, and that mouth right by his ear-

“Very good, Childe. Just like that.”

He’s rock hard. The arrow he had nocked for this lets loose as his fingers stutter uncontrollably around the bowstring, but Childe doesn’t see where it lands. His cock throbs insistently in his trousers, and his head is filled with replays of the way Zhongli had said it - his voice had been so close, so low and quiet, and so deep, and his breath had ghosted so hotly over him.

Fuck. Fuck.

This is worse than the time he saw Zhongli bent over.

Zhongli simply pats Childe on the shoulder, completely oblivious to the state of horny he’s just induced. “Ah well. I’m sure you’ll get the bullseye in time with more practice. You’re a fast learner, after all.”

“Yeah,” Childe croaks. He’ll learn anything to impress Zhongli, but not if Zhongli wants to give more hands-on demonstrations like that.

Very good, Childe. Just like that.

It rings in his head over and over. With no flourish, he dematerialises his bow and sinks to the ground. “You know,” he starts, his voice higher pitched and more pathetic than it ought to be, “I think it’s about lunch time.”

“Hm. I do believe you are right. Shall we?”

“Yeah. But ah, you know what, I think I’m going to stop by my lodgings first. Have a shower. I’ll meet you there, alright? Where do you wanna eat, Wanmin’s?”

“An excellent choice. Very well. I’ll see you soon then.”

Childe nods, and doesn’t shift from his spot until he’s sure Zhongli is halfway to Liyue Harbour. In any other situation, it would be a shame to miss the walk back together, but today there’s no way he’s risking Zhongli catching sight of the tent in his trousers.

He pushes the palm of his hand against it and hisses at the pressure. It would be so tempting to take care of it here, stroke himself and come onto the grass. With the heat in his gut, it wouldn’t take long.

However, being caught jerking off in the countryside would create a scandal (and not the fun kind) and sometimes, being a representative of the Tsaritsa means you have to put on your big boy pants and go home to jerk off instead.

Once he thinks he’s managed to recover enough, physically, emotionally and mentally, he gets up, picks up his grey coat from where he’d discarded it earlier, and heads back home.

It’s part luck and part a well practised death glare that gets him back to his room largely undisturbed, and he rests for a second with his back against the door and sighs in relief at finally being alone.

His boner has only partly gone down - not exactly surprising when it’d been less than an hour since Zhongli had crooned those words into his ear. Was he supposed to not get horny at that? Was there some kind of magic drug everyone else in Liyue took that meant they weren’t at all times compelled to be good for Zhongli?

“Fuck,” he mutters, and crosses into the bathroom.

The water is blissfully cold when he finally steps under it, a welcome change from the heat and sticky sweat. He stands there for a minute, feeling it run over his hair and down his body and relishes in his element - but no water is cold enough to quench the arousal that he can still feel writhing in his blood or soften his still hard cock.

It’s completely unsurprising by this point.

Childe closes his eyes, and reaches down, the contrast between the water and his still warm palm making him hiss. He remembers the sensation of Zhongli’s breath over his ear lobe, the soft hair that only just brushed him, the feel of being rearranged to suit Zhongli’s desires.

Very good, Childe. Just like that.

Yes, he’d be so good if only Zhongli would let him, he’d let Zhongli fan his breath over any inch of his bare skin, he’d let Zhongli dip his head and have that long ponytail drift over his body, he’d let Zhongli manhandle him any way he wants. He pumps his cock with reckless abandon, wishing for more, pushing his fingers against his slit to feel his precum before the water washes it away.

A fast learner, Zhongli had called him. He pictures himself sinking to his knees before him and showing him just how quick he could learn to please with his mouth, finding all the places he can slide his tongue over to make Zhongli groan and training to take him as deep as he can in his throat.

It’s not enough. He needs more. He needs to be both filled and praised, and now he’s got one, the other need is making itself known. It’s not an ache, but he doesn’t have a better word for it - just whatever horny nerves that operate in him are telling him how good it would feel to have a (Zhongli’s) cock deep and snug inside him, stretching hm out, balls against his ass cheeks.

With a frustrated huff, Childe opens his eye and lets go of his cock, feeling it bob against his stomach.

Usually he doesn’t do this in the shower, preferring to fuck himself when he’s relaxed in bed, but he’s got oil here anyway and he can’t be bothered to get out. He liberally coats a finger, and then reaches behind him and sinks in.

He’s tighter than he usually is when he does this, so he braces one hand against the wall and delves back into a fantasy.

Very good, Childe. Just like that.

Those would be the words Zhongli would mutter in his ear when they fucked. It’s so easy to imagine, with such a vividity that makes him bite on his lip. Zhongli sinking in slowly just as his finger does now, his chest flush against Childe’s back and holding him in place, praising him for taking it all so well. Maybe Zhongli would be the type to slip his fingers in Childe’s mouth too, to let him whimper and slobber all over them as he’s impaled. With a groan that echoes off the tiles, Childe moves his finger in himself the way he thinks Zhongli would thrust - slow at first, giving him time to adjust to the monster he wants so desperately to be in Zhongli’s trousers, telling him he’s such a good boy, cooing compliments about how tight his hole is and how it’s just for Zhongli to fill.

Yes, yes. He adds another finger and relishes in the stretch, his other hand resuming its grip around his straining erection. Zhongli would pick the pace up slowly, all the while telling him how Childe is just perfect for him.

Maybe he’d say something like, “Everyone sees you as a scary harbinger. But really, you’ll be a good boy for me, won’t you? You’ll be fucked like a good boy, won’t you?”

“Yes, yes, anything,” he babbles in his head. He wants to be good and take every inch of Zhongli’s thrusts, wants to take every thrust like Zhongli’s personal plaything, wants to hear any sort of compliment drip off Zhongli’s lips for him.

And maybe Zhongli would hold him down and keep his mouth right by his ear just so Childe couldn’t miss a single thing. Maybe he’d tell him how pretty he is when he’s being rendered speechless by the friction of a fat dick against his walls, tell him he’s beautiful-

His fingers insistently search for that spot, wishing it was the leaking head of a cock instead. Shivers go down his spine at the sensation of his own fingers inside him, thrusting and rubbing-

“Nnggh…” he whines as heat shoots through him when he rubs against his prostate. He doesn’t let up on it, thighs clenching as he pants freely. The water continues streaming around his body, even icier now against his flushing skin yet doing nothing to quell any of his arousal. “Zhongli…”

He times the hand around his erection to the thrusting of his fingers, rubbing his palm over the shaft.

The Zhongli in his head continues. “Such a well behaved boy for me, aren’t you? Taking my cock like you were made for it.” Childe imagines his sturdy arms wrapped around him and those pearlescent teeth tugging at his earlobe. “You’re so tight around me, Childe. Would everyone continue to be so scared of you if they knew just how good you feel inside? They all fantasise about you already, but they’re all too scared to make a move. This is just for me…”

His thighs tremble as his feet nearly slip against the wet porcelain under him, but he’s too close now to care. He bullies his prostate, trying to mimic the deep, rolling thrusts that he loves so much, that he knows Zhongli would provide.

The water does little to hide his barely suppressed moans and whines of pleasure, and they echo off the tiles around him as the tension builds in his core. He’s close, and he tries to give himself that extra bit more to push over the edge - he tightens his grip on himself and rubs harder against his walls until finally he comes with a shout, white splattering and dripping down into the bath where it’s washed away with his sweat.

“Fuck,” he mutters, breathing hard, and gingerly extracts his own fingers from inside him.

Zhongli’s waiting for him. He has no idea how much time has passed, but he can only hope that he hasn’t left the consultant too long. He wipes off any remains of his lube and cum off his hands and reaches for the soap, determined to not keep Zhongli waiting any longer than necessary.

5.

It’s been two days, and Childe hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

The bank. The gnosis. The contract. All of it.

The whole Zhongli being the Geo Archon thing. Ex Geo Archon. That small tidbit of knowledge.

It’s currently the middle of the night, and he’s been tossing and turning for who knows how long, trying to sleep and failing. A little light and sound bleeds through the window - typical of Liyue Harbour at this hour, and he hates that he knows that, hates that it’s familiar, hates how long he’s spent in this damned place.

He huffs, and rolls over again, as if finding a new position will magically put him to sleep in the next two minutes. Unsurprisingly, lying on his stomach for a change doesn’t do anything to quell his restless energy that thrums though his body or the racing of thoughts inside his head.

He should have figured it out, right? There was no way someone like him got to have normal relationships with normal people. Or, as normal as anyone could think Zhongli was. He was too handsome, too knowledgeable, too elegant, too patient to ever be just a normal person.

No. Childe forms a fist and beats it into his pillow, next to his head. Stop being into Zhongli. Stop thinking about fucking him. Stop wanting him. He shouldn’t have been doing it before, and he definitely shouldn’t be doing it now. Not now that he knows he’s a god, and one who humiliated him in front of La Signora too.

He huffs frustratedly, and turns his head to breathe better. When he was a teen and couldn’t sleep, his go to was jack off. Cleared the mind, gave him a bit of tiredness, made him dozy real quick. There’s nothing stopping him doing it again, except for the fact that he can’t remember the last time he got himself off and didn’t think of Zhongli during it. Tonight doesn’t really feel like the night that streak is going to break, even though the wound is so fresh. He’s a self respecting harbinger, and a self respecting harbinger doesn’t touch their cock and think about the hand wrapped around it being glad in black gloves with an amber stone on them, or a deep voice that would mutter all sorts of things in their ears, or some literally godly dick inside them.

Besides, what would Zhongli think, if he knew exactly what Childe fantasised about? He probably would have been scandalised before, but now it’s just… worse. Do archons even get horny? Is that even a thing? At least Childe had used to be able to pretend that he had a chance, or that at least Zhongli probably had bodily needs.

Actually, you know what? Fuck Zhongli.

He rolls onto his back, stares at the dark ceiling, and reaches down. What Rex Lapis doesn’t know doesn’t hurt him, and if it would gross him out, then at least it means Childe has elicited something vaguely resembling the hurt that’s been done to him.

Masturbating is probably the oddest sort of vengeance he’s ever sought, but as he grips his flaccid cock and gives himself a quick pump, he finds he doesn’t really give a fuck.

He brings his palm up, spits in it as much as he can muster, and then again slips his hand into his boxers.

To his credit, he does consider trying thinking about something other than Zhongli, or to just try and think about nothing at all, but that idea is quashed as quickly as it comes up. This is (somehow) getting back at Zhongli. This isn’t indulging, it’s getting it out of his system.

It only takes a few gropes for his dick to start filling in his grasp. The sigh he lets out is loud in the quiet apartment.

There’s no need to drag this out. What Childe’s after is a quick release, and he does away with any tender touches. He grips himself just a touch too tightly, he bucks his hips into his hold just a little too sharply, he slides his palm over his still swelling erection just a bit too quickly for the amount of lube he has - or doesn’t have, to be more accurate. He’s never been cowardly though, and he gasps at the sensation. Gods, he wants Zhongli to be both in his bed and a whole continent away at the same time, and he imagines for once getting to be in charge of a situation.

Wouldn’t that be good? To push Zhongli down onto something, to be the one manhandling him for a change, to grip those delicate wrists and wrap a rough cord around them. To have Zhongli for once overwhelmed and overpowered and just not controlling something for once. Childe pants at the mental image of Zhongli weak and splayed under him, his red makeup smudged and golden eyes wide, his hair untied and spread out around him. He would look so good debauched and knocked down a few pegs, powerless to stop Childe ripping that stupid coat and waistcoat and tie and shirt off and running his hands down his chest and seeing how the real thing compares to the statues. Would his body feel as hard and unyielding as stone, or would it be as deceptively soft as his words? Would there be goosebumps that follow after his fingers as he follows the line of Zhongli’s sternum? Would his skin taste like the earth and soil, or would it be like any normal human’s?

The mental image of him laying kisses down the length of Zhongli’s chest from his collarbones, down past his navel, and sucking the sweat out of his adonis belt is one that’s familiar by now, but currently that is much too tender for the anger that he still feels. He squeezes his eyes shut, and pushes that mental image out of his head. Right now he needs something less intimate and far dirtier. He pictures his hand in Zhongli’s hair, tugging it to keep his head in place and kissing him as roughly as he could stand. Wouldn’t Zhongli just look oh so pretty, kissed stupid, flushed lips, mouth dripping with drool, Childe’s cock rubbing all over those high and mighty cheekbones and smearing trails of precum over that porcelain skin. In reality, his own precum that beads at his tip dribbles into his grip as he keeps up the pace, chasing after as much sensation as he can to boil any soft feelings out of him.

The fantasy of a world where it’s Zhongli begging for him and his touch is sweet, and Childe can’t help but groan. Zhongli would gasp out his name so sweetly, and he’d beg so deliciously, Childe just knows it. A mighty god, an infuriating man, tied and powerless as Childe would unbutton his trousers and take out that cock and sink on it at his own pace. That particular bitty is enough to cause his hips to stutter, and he hisses as he pushes his thumb against his slit with just a little too much force.

If he could make a book of all his favourite mental images, he thinks that this would definitely be in it. Wouldn’t it be so addicting to have Zhongli as his own toy, his cock serving for Childe’s pleasure as he nestles it deep inside him. Would Zhongli beg for him to move faster or slower? He decides he’d rather have him beg for slower - something about the idea of taking brutally fast and hard and forcing Zhongli to come earlier than he’d like makes his toes curl under the covers.

And he’d stay hilted on it even as Zhongli’s cum fills him, rocking his hips to keep him stimulated until Zhongli’s a wreck - teary and babbling as Childe’s insides coax him to hardness again and then he keeps going. He wonders if it’s possible to use Zhongli’s cock to edge himself, angling it against his prostate in the way he knows is just right, while keeping Zhongli coming until there’s nothing whatsoever left of his dignity and composure. Yes, yes, that would be so perfect, and he tips over the edge, letting out a moan as his own spend coats his hands and soaks his boxers.

Eurgh. He lies there for what feels like the best part of a minute, before wiping his dirtied hand on part of his boxers that feels somewhat clean and wriggling them off and kicking them out of bed.

His heart is barely thumping at that excuse for exercise, but he does feel sort of better. He thinks. Once again, he rolls over, and tries to not indulge in any extra thoughts this time as he tries to sleep.

+1.

Childe had imagined that their first kiss would go like this, but to be honest, that’s just because he’s imagined their first kiss in just about every way possible.

They’re currently crushed against the wall of Zhongli’s modest apartment, Childe’s arm draped over Zhongli’s shoulders which feel even broader than they look, and Zhongli’s chest pushed against his like he can’t get close enough.

And to think, the evening had started so innocently and unassumingly - a light dinner just like the old times, one or two drinks, a walk together to catch up on what they’d been missing in the time between the bank mess and them actually talking again, and then maybe one or two more drinks, because damn it, this was a celebration. And then Zhongli had invited him back under some pretence Childe can barely remember under current conditions.

And now Zhongli’s mouth is intense against his, his tongue dipping into Childe’s mouth like a man starved and swallowing any noises Childe is lacking the composure to prevent. He wants Zhongli closer, and he can’t resist threading his other hand through the hair at the nape of his neck, just in case Zhongli will leave him bereft in this moment.

But when the kiss breaks, Zhongli makes no move to part. Their noses brush, and Childe can still feel Zhongli’s breath on his parted lips. His head is spinning. Is this real? “Pardon me,” Zhongli says, and Childe can feel the way the words rumble in his chest. Their heartbeats are out of sync with each other, but the sensation of Zhongli’s shuddering between them is perhaps all that’s keeping him grounded.

Childe tips his head back against the wall with what little space he has to do so, and laughs breathily. “Only you would kiss someone like that and then apologise.”

“It is not the proper custom when introducing someone to their home,” Zhongli says patiently, but they’re close enough - literally and figuratively - that Childe can hear the slight breathlessness, and it makes him grin to hear what an effect he’s had.

“I know one way you can make it up to me,” he says, and tilts his head forward to slot their mouths against each other again. This kiss is no less intense than the first - he can taste the alcohol they’ve both drunk, but as he slips his tongue against Zhongli’s, he thinks this is far more intoxicating.

Zhongli’s body is caging him in, one arm on each side of his body, and Childe can’t help but rut his hips forward, and Zhongli obliges by slipping one of his knees between his legs. It’s a lot - the feel of Zhongli’s hair under his fingers, the body heat bleeding into him despite the clothes, how solid his chest and thigh feel against his own body. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t send some blood rushing down to his cock - going from not having Zhongli at all to now having him all over him is like jumping into the deep end of a pool. He’s weightless, enveloped in Zhongli, and he never wants to break the surface again.

“Childe…” Zhongli mutters when he breaks the kiss again, their lips only millimetres apart, and it takes all of Childe’s strength to not chase and close the gaping maw between them.

“Archons. You don’t know how long I’ve dreamed of kissing you,” Childe admits, because he’s both baijiu drunk and Zhongli drunk and his brain filter isn’t operating at maximum capacity right now. It seems right, to whisper secrets like this, in a dark hallway in the dead of night, bodies entwined.

“If you would enlighten me, I would not be opposed.” Zhongli’s voice is just as quiet, but it still resounds in the small space between them.

And Childe laughs again, and leans in again.

Their lips barely have time to brush before Zhongli is tilting his head away and down, and Childe’s heart stutters in his chest when he feels that hot breath against the sensitive skin of my neck.

“Childe,” Zhongli murmurs, “will you permit me to indulge?”

He swallows thickly, and thanks both the Tsaritsa and his military training for the self composure he needs right now to not become a puddle at Zhongli’s feet. “Please.”

Zhongli’s mouth against his was something, but to feel those lips against his fluttering pulse, impossibly soft, and then to feel Zhongli’s mouth open and suck lightly at the spot-

“Ah, hah, Zhongli,” Childe pants out, sparks dancing down his blood vessels all the way from his neck to his cock. This is too much - but it’s not enough, he needs Zhongli in every way possible now, he needs him closer still. He smooths one palm over the brow of Zhongli’s shoulders, loathing to not touch him back in some way.

Zhongli’s thigh, which had been snugly between his legs, rises just a bit higher and brushes the seam of his pants, and Childe gasps as his hips jolt of their own accord, crushing his erection against the hard muscle of Zhongli.

He can feel Zhongli pause in his attentions, and he mentally curses. “Just - just ignore it, okay? It’s just like I said, I’ve been thinking of this for a while and you kissing my neck - forget I said anything, okay?”

“Very well.” Zhongli ascents, as though this is a matter of grave importance, and then pushes his thigh very firmly against the tent in his trousers.

“Zhongli!” Childe lets out something halfway between a moan and whine, and ruts his hips against him again, the sensation of finally having something other than his hand against his dick far too good to resist.

“You instructed me to forget your instruction to ignore it,” Zhongli states, trying and failing to sound innocent, “which is rather good of you, as I’ve also thought of a situation not dissimilar to this one before.”

“What-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Zhongli draws his leg down and then up again, putting enough pressure against him Childe’s breath chokes up in his throat. “I’ve said too much,” he says, dry humour lacing his tone, and then repeats the motion, leaving Childe a spluttering mess. His mouth goes back to kissing a line down the curve of Childe’s jugular, leaving spit wet marks that cool too quickly in the air.

Fuck.

But even as he focuses too hard on timing the grind of his hips with Zhongli’s thigh to properly focus on making a sentence that’s coherent enough he feels confident in saying it, his mind reels in the revelation that Zhongli had dirty fantasies of him. Did Zhongli do the same as him, lie in bed and jack off, dreaming of a universe where they got to fuck?

His body is too hot. He needs to be naked, he needs Zhongli to be naked, he needs to touch bare skin between his fingertips and have his own be touched.

“Zhongli…”

“If you would like to continue using my leg to find release, I would not be opposed.”

“No, Zhongli, I need more. Let me touch you too.”

That causes Zhongli to lift his head, and Childe’s head spins when he can see the spit on Zhongli’s lips reflect what little light there is.

“I could show you my bedroom, if you wish.” Zhongli says, his voice heavy with suggestion.

“You can fuck me out here for all I care, I just want us both naked.” Childe hisses, and takes advantage of their new position to unwrap his arm and instead dip a palm across the front of Zhongli’s chest, dipping to where it’s clasped shut at the front. One of Zhongli’s arms shifts, and a warm hand wraps tightly around his wrist.

“Fucking in the hallway is definitely not the proper custom,” he says, as though Childe cares about proper custom right now. Frankly, it’s hard to care about anything right now other than the suddenly very real and tangible future of having Zhongli’s cock inside his asshole. Just because he’s thought of the scenarios before - far too many times before - doesn’t mean he actually seriously expected any of them to become real, and he feels almost nervous at the prospect.

But he’s a harbinger, the vanguard of the Snezhnayan army, he never feels nervous about anything, so he gives Zhongli a grin. “Fine. You can fuck me in the bedroom, then.”

A moment passes between them, and though it’s dark, he can see Zhongli’s mouth curve at the edges. The sight of it is everything, another hammer at the eggshell of Childe’s composure. “How could I resist?” He asks, and steps away. The cold air that swoops in between their bodies is unpleasant and unwelcome, and Childe almost reaches out to tug Zhongli back to him.

“Come,” Zhongli says, and turns to walk away, into the night time void with all the confidence of a man who has not moved the furniture in his house in a very long time.

“Wait, Zhongli, I can’t see that well,” Childe hisses, pushing himself off the wall.

Once again, a warm hand wraps around his wrist, and Zhongli smiles at him. It’s almost like this is a simple walk along the promenade, one they’ve had many times before, and not - whatever this is, something new and far more salacious.

The smooth leather of Zhongli’s still gloved hand slides down his wrist, and over the back of his hand, before he feels Zhongli intertwine their fingers together.

Isn’t it rather silly that that is what makes his breath hitch, and not Zhongli making out with his neck or grinding his thigh against him? Childe can feel his cheeks heat up so much he thinks it’ll be a miracle if Zhongli doesn’t feel it.

“Forgive the mess,” Zhongli says as he leads Childe into a room, and Childe feels his hand be raised, and then the raw heat and pressure of a kiss placed on the junction of his arm and hand, right above where his glove ends.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Childe stutters out, wondering if he’s actually going to live through this night.

“Mhm,” Zhongli hums as he releases Childe’s hand and a few moments later, a lamp is lit, allowing Childe to finally and properly see the room.

Zhongli’s bedroom is rather humble for a god, but then again, there are enough things in it its true size is probably larger than it seems right now. His eyes skirt over the fine antiquities, antiques and modern objects and land right on what’s more important right now - the figure of his favourite funeral consultant, peeling off his gloves with a delicateness that’s in contrast to the bubbling tension Childe feels in his own gut.

“You know,” Childe says, and this time he’s the one reaching out to Zhongli, taking one of those hands between his own and admiring the way the lamplight seems to give Zhongli’s skin a hauntingly beautiful quality, “I always wanted to see what your hands look like under those gloves.” Zhongli’s fingers are long and elegant, his nails kept short, his veins a pale green as they thread between his knuckles.

“Do they live up to such wonderings?” Zhongli asks, as Childe replicates the kiss Zhongli had given to his own hand, and then again, and again, sliding his lips over Zhongli’s knuckles.

“Of course. You’re gorgeous.” He hums lightly. Does Zhongli feel as flustered as he had earlier, right now? Or is this something he knew was foretold? Was it inevitable that they would end up like this, Childe laying kisses like Zhongli’s his true sovereign? It sends a shiver down his spine, to be so deliciously blasphemous.

He glances up. Zhongli’s eyes may as well be liquid gold for the way they seem to shimmer and dance in the low light, burning just as hot.

Sometimes, earlier during the evening when he still had no idea it was leading here, he had thought it was very easy to forget that Zhongli is a god, older than anything Childe can wrap his head around and one who drenched himself in war.

This is not one of those times. All of a sudden, Childe is struck by the fact that it’s an archon he’s been rutting against, an archon he’s been making out with, an archon’s hand he’s currently fondling. An archon with flushed cheeks and wind buffeted and hand mussed hair, dark strands falling across his forehead.. His Tsaritsa would never look like this - she never could.

“... Thank you,” Zhongli says quietly, but profoundly, as though it’s not a compliment he must have heard innumerable times.

An archon he can make look like that. An archon he can fluster.

“If you’re offering, we can try and see if reality lives up to anything else I used to think about,” he tries, and Zhongli audibly swallows. The sound of it goes right to his cock.

“I would be delighted to.”

Childe can’t help but grin, and presses another kiss to the base of Zhongli’s ring finger, then swipes his tongue over the skin there. “I used to think all the time about you paying me back for all the dinners and things I bought for you with your mouth.”

And then he angles Zhongli’s hand up and lowers his lips around the circumference of a finger, licking round the length of it. Zhongli’s skin is soft in that way that warmed skin is, and tastes slightly of the leather of his glove.

The hitch of Zhongli’s breath as he gives a hard and firm suck, sliding his mouth down to the root, is too loud, and Childe can’t help but let out a low moan.

“Childe,” Zhongli says, almost like an admonishment, and Childe dutifully releases his fingers, spit glinting in the light as it strands from his lip to the tip of Zhongli’s well-manicured fingernail.

“Yes?”

“You are almost too much for me,” Zhongli admits, and uses his hand that isn’t partially coated in drool to cradle Childe’s chin. It feels intimate, too intimate, even as Childe feels himself grin again.

“I hope not. It’d would be a damper if you bowed out before you got to fuck me.”

“Come here,” Zhongli murmurs right before he presses their lips together again and kisses him deeply. But Childe doesn’t want to be cradled right now, he wants what he’s always dreamed of and always supposed was just out of reach - Zhongli manhandling him down and filling him with hot cum. He presses back insistently, clacking their teeth together and pushing Zhongli back, and back again until Zhongli’s legs hit the bed and they fall down over it, knees folding together.

“Isn’t that better?” Childe murmurs, bracing on one hand and letting the other roam down, over Zhongli’s (annoyingly) clothed chest and to the crotch of his trousers, cupping the bulge he finds there. Zhongli’s dick is hard already, and he rubs his thumb over the edge of it, laughing lowly at the muted groan that bleeds through Zhongli’s lips. It feels big, bigger than his, and he shudders at how right he was whenever he pictured Zhongli with a fat cock that would stretch him. “You were the one who was pushing me against the wall and kissing me so hard I could barely think, not even ten minutes ago. Don’t try to play cute now.”

“That was before I turned the light on,” Zhongli admits, and the admission makes Childe hesitate. He’s a harbinger, and he’s allowed to have needs, but softness isn’t one of them.

“You were the one who wanted to take this to the bed,” he admonishes with a squeeze of his hand against the firm erection he’s still cradling in one hand. “I gave you the option of fucking me right there in the hallway and you rejected it.”

“It would not have been proper for our first time together,” Zhongli says, though his rebuttal is halfhearted.

“Some other time, then?” Childe prompts. “Will you push me against the wall some other night and wrench my trousers down? Will you pin my hands to the wall so I can’t wriggle away as you finger me open? Will you hold me in place as you enter me? Slam my hips against the wall and disturb the neighbours?”

Zhongli’s cock definitely is interested, and he curses his lack of foresight by not slipping his hands inside the other’s trousers and underwear first. He watches the way the shadows emphasise Zhongli’s Adam's apple as it bobs, and the way his pupils have dilated so much he can only just see the rings of white and amber. Some of his hair has come loose - probably from Childe’s wandering hands earlier - and the tips of it look like they’re glowing as they frame his face, neck, shoulders. Childe continues on, despite the urge he feels to lean and kiss and take. “If you’re the god of contracts, you know you’ll have to do it if you say yes now, right?”

“If that is what you want,” he says, like a total cop out. Childe withdraws his hand, and feels somewhat mollified when Zhongli’s hips jerk up to chase the lost sensation.

“Has any of my behaviour tonight indicated that I didn’t want that?” Childe asks, leaning down, until they’re practically nose to nose. The tip of Zhongli’s tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, and Childe’s eyes drop to watch. That tongue had been in his mouth, against his neck. It could be - it should be - against his chest, against his nipples, on his cock.

“No,” Zhongli admits. “But I like it very much when you tell me what you used to imagine me doing to you.” His hands rise, and wrap themselves solidly around Childe’s waist, settling into the curve there so naturally like Zhongli was always meant to hold him and Childe was always meant to be held, and then they dip around and down, palming the curves of Childe’s ass. The sensation makes his blood feel hot - yet again, he thinks they’re both idiots for not being naked right now.

“I could tell you more,” Childe says, “or you could just do whatever you want to me. Did I tell you that was a fantasy, too?”

“I am getting the distinct impression,” one of Zhongli’s hands strays to the seam of his trousers, and pushes, though there’s not enough give in the fabric for his fingers to really touch between his cheeks, “that you had a great many fantasies involving me.”

“Oh? What gave it away?”

Zhongli gives a deep chuckle, and with a push that hardly seems any effort to him, pushes Childe over so he lands on the soft bed next to Zhongli with a quiet, “oof.”

Zhongli looms over him, and cages him under his hips, grinding forward and causing Childe to tip his head back against the sheets. They’re both so hard, and it makes Childe’s toes squirm inside his boots. “Zhongli…” he whines.

One of Zhongli’s hands goes to where Childe’s coat clasps together, and easily unclips it, pushing the grey cloth to the side to expose his red shirt and harness. Zhongli slips a single finger under the taut leather, and Childe subconsciously holds his breath.

“If only you could see yourself now,” Zhongli murmurs, and leans down to kiss him again, frotting against him with a slow roll of his hips that has Childe gasping into his mouth helplessly. He nips his lower lip when he pulls away, eyes narrowed as he takes in what a mess Childe must look right now. “I must say, in my own fantasies, you typically were wearing far less.”

“Undress me then,” Childe challenges. “Rip my clothes off.”

“I do not wish to break your clothes,” he lets the leather of his harness snap back into place, “and I do not know how you take this thing off.”

That makes Childe laugh, and he pushes himself up, Zhongli obligingly backing off to give him space to sit up. He shrugs his coat off his shoulders, letting it fall down his arms, and grins wider as Zhongli’s eyes follow the grey cloth down, and then the movements of Childe’s fingers as he deftly undoes the harness and drops it. “There. Happy now?”

“Not quite.” Zhongli’s hands are warm as they slip under his shirt, ghosting over the exposed part of his stomach, and run over his hips bones, fingertips pushing into the groove of his waist. “What an interesting shirt you choose to wear. I never understood it.”

“That’s because you wear about fifty layers.”

“Three.”

“That’s far too many.” Childe unbuttons the top of his shirt, and leans back until he’s resting on his elbows. He can feel the red cloth flutter open, rivulets of his flushing skin exposed to the air and Zhongli’s hungry gaze. “We need to remedy that.”

Zhongli’s shoulders roll as he slips out of his coat with none of the dramatic flair Childe had used, and gently drapes it over a dresser instead of just dumping it on the floor. “No shoes on my bed,” Zhongli says, and Childe swallows thickly when he drops to his knees in front of him, only the top of his head visible from Childe’s position. A moment later, he feels Zhongli’s fingers gently work off his boots, slowly sliding them off one by one, and then both his socks. Another kiss is pressed to the jut of his ankle bone on his right leg, and Childe can’t help but sit up to better observe Zhongli.

“Do you have a foot fetish?” He asks bluntly, because if the answer is yes, he feels he ought to know. But Zhongli shakes his head, earring catching the light with the movement. He doesn’t look as sheepish as a man who doesn’t have a foot fetish but still kisses people’s ankles ought to be in Childe’s opinion.

“No. I just find your ankle bones cute. Rather delicate looking, which is surprising given-”

He groans, but unfortunately it’s out of frustration and not horniness. “You have a half naked Snezhnayan you can do anything to in your bed and you want to talk about my ankles?”

“Ah.” Zhongli raises his head, just enough that his nose is now level with the edge of the bed - and Childe’s lap - and it suddenly occurs to Childe just how close his straining cock is now to Zhongli’s mouth.

The thought must be obvious on his face, or it must occur to Zhongli too, because his eyes dip from Childe’s face to his now bare chest, and down his stomach until they settle on his groin, and Zhongli’s hands settle on his knees, gently tugging them further apart.

It seems to happen in slow motion, and Childe drinks as much as he can in, the blush that dusts Zhongli’s cheeks, the black of his pupils fixated on his body, the way his hair falls, the contrast of his eyelashes against his pale skin as his eyes narrow, the way his lips part and his tongue swipes out for a second as he moves forward in one elegant, smooth motion-

The noise that Childe lets out when Zhongli’s breath huffs over his clothed erection before his lips seal over it is entirely desperate and unflattering, but there’s no such thing as dignity when it’s Zhongli swiping his tongue over his cock. His mouth is hot and wet, seeping through the two layers of clothing that are now his worst enemies in the world. One of Childe’s hands finds its way to the top of Zhongli’s head and weaves his fingers through the soft locks there, as he exerts more pressure against his cock.

“Zhongli, fuck-”

Zhongli manages to find his head and he pushes his tongue insistently against it, pleasure sparking through all his nerves and blanking his brain for a second. He could probably come like this sooner rather than later, and the shame of the idea is hotter than he’d like to admit. He tries to wrangle what small part of his brain isn’t obsessing with the idea of coming right now into Zhongli’s mouth into gear with the idea of holding out and coming into Zhongli’s mouth later.

If he lets him. Archons, Childe hopes he’ll let him-

A sharp tug on that hair, normally so tidy, finally has Zhongli release him and make eye contact.

“Is that how your fantasies went?” Zhongli has the gall to say, and maybe if his voice wasn’t rougher and deeper than Childe was used to he would be able to laugh it off. But he can’t - not when Zhongli’s lips are spit licked and swollen, not when he looks at Childe like that, not when Childe can barely bear this tension between them.

“You’re far better than anything I could come up with, believe me.”

That causes one side of Zhongli’s mouth to curl upwards, before he surges up and kisses Childe, his mouth tasting like fabric and alcohol. He lets Zhongli push him backwards, their bodies curling around each other as they fall against the bedspread. Why is Zhongli still mostly clothed? Childe’s fingers scramble over the expanse of his chest until he finds the clasps of Zhongli’s waistcoat and undoes it as they continue kissing. The buttons of his shirt are a bit harder to manage, but he successfully slips a few out and finally slides his hand against Zhongli’s bare skin. Without the buffer of clothing, he is free to finally relish in just how hot Zhongli’s skin is, the grooves of ribs and muscles shifting under his greedy palm as they kiss.

“Childe…” Zhongli’s murmur ghosts over Childe’s lips, and he can feel the shover go through Zhongli’s body as Childe rubs his fingers over a pert nipple. Zhongli’s pecs are probably firmer than his own, and again he is reminded that this is a god he has over him, no matter how real he feels.

“I’ll be good for you,” Childe promises, brushing his lips over Zhongli’s own. “I want you so badly, Zhongli, I want you to use me.”

The growl that Zhongli lets out into his mouth is enough to make Childe whine in reply as he short-circuits, his hole all of a sudden far too empty for how long they’ve spent kissing and touching, and his digs his nails into the soft, supple skin of Zhongli’s abdomen. Yes, yes, yes, this is what he wants, he wants Zhongli to take him apart, to consume him, to be even closer than they are now.

Zhongli pushes him back, breaking the kiss, globs of saliva falling from both their mouths. They both pant as Zhongli roughly undoes his tie and shirt, sliding out of all offending articles with none of the care he had shown his coat. Childe drinks in the sight deeply, roaming over the bare skin and the muscles he just stroked, to the cut v that only draws his attention further down to his crotch. He can’t help but reach forward and cup him again, relishing in the sharp exhale he receives before he works on the fastening of Zhongli’s trousers, hooking his fingers into the waistband of both them and his underwear and tugging them both down. His goal was to push them to the floor, but he gets entirely distracted when they get stuck halfway down his thighs and Zhongli’s cock is released to his gaze.

He had felt it in his hand, just now and earlier, but still - the sight of it takes him by surprise and his mouth and throat dries up. It stands proudly, jutting up and out from Zhongli’s body, a dewdrop of precum resting on the flushed head that Childe just longs to taste.

“Fuck Zhongli, it’s obscene you have that in your trousers.”

“No more than you wearing that harness out in public,” Zhongli comments and Childe takes his hand and brings it up to rest on top of his own head, a thrill rushing through him when Zhongli obligingly grabs his hair, and presses his lips chastely against what he’s dreamed of. That precum is caught into the grooves of his lips, and he can’t help but dart his tongue out and drag it along the slit.

The groan that is ripped from Zhongli’s throat seems to reverberate through the room, and Childe pushes his own palm against himself, the fabric still damp from Zhongli’s mouth earlier.

Before he can properly sink his mouth down it and welcome it into his throat, Zhongli uses his grip on his hair to tug him off. “No,” he commands, “this is not the hole I wish to come in.”

Childe whines a little at that, because, fuck, that shouldn’t make him feel hot, but it really does.

Zhongli tugs him up, pushes him back on the bed yet again, hands sliding down the length of his chest and tugging his trousers and boxers off far more successfully than Childe had done his. The muscles in arms that flex when he throws them somewhere in the room are works of art, and Childe raises his hips and spreads his legs welcomingly, baring all he has to offer to Zhongli’s eyes. He hopes that the view of his hole is good enough in this pose, but Zhongli’s eyes are glued to him either way. It feels depraved, debauched in all the best ways, and his fingers twitch and clutch the sheet underneath him, resisting the urge to stroke himself and come over himself exposed like this.

“Will you finally fuck me now?” He asks, breathless, and causing Zhongli’s eyes to finally flicker away from his groin.

“With a display like that, how could I resist?” Zhongli murmurs, rubbing a hand over the length of Childe’s shin before he instead turns away to rummage in his bedside drawer.

He tries not to think about the implications of Zhongli keeping lube next to his bed, which is surprisingly easy when he’s faced with the image of Zhongli drenching his fingers in the shiny liquid. He can hear his own pulse in his ears, feel his own jugular pulsing in time with it.

The finger that circles his rim is cold, and Childe winces subconsciously at the sensation.

“Apologies,” Zhongli’s tone is soft, but he continues touching him, causing ripples of arousal in his stomach, and Childe cries out when finally, finally Zhongli dips a singular finger inside him.

“More,” he gasps out, trying to wriggle his ass further down onto Zhongli’s hand. He needs to be filled, like, yesterday, his hole greedily taking in the finger.

“But you’re so pretty when you beg,” Zhongli says, curling his finger and rubbing his walls. It doesn’t hit his prostate, but it makes him whine all the same.

“Please, more, deeper, I can take it.”

Zhongli doesn’t reply, but he does pull his finger out, drizzle more lube on his hand, and then push two fingers back inside. “You’re so tight, Childe. You’ll feel so good.”

Oh, that makes heat pulse in his cock, twitching against his belly, and Zhongli smirks at the sight.

“Do you like that?” He asks, even as his fingers sink deep, all the way to his knuckles, even as Childe can feel his rim twitch and flutter around them.

He whines instead of giving a coherent response. The fingers stretching his walls feel too warm, Zhongli’s hand resting on the sensitive and vulnerable inside of his thigh is too warm, and then that hand slides up higher and cusps his balls, cradling and rolling them in his palm.

“You like offering yourself to me like this, don’t you?” Zhongli continues, fucking into him with leisurely strokes. “You like knowing that I’m going to fuck you right open. I can only imagine what a picture you’ll make when you’re spread open my cock.”

“Yes, yes,” Childe babbles. “I’m all yours. Fuck me, I’ll be good for you and only you-”

The rest of whatever he was going to say is broken off when Zhongli pushes a third finger in him and then hits his prostate. Childe can feel the coil inside him wind tighter, goosebumps spreading over his own flesh and toes twitching and curling.

Zhongli trails a finger over the underside of Childe’s weeping cock. “For me,” he remarks idly, like there’s a bouquet of flowers in his grasp and not a naked, shivering man with three fingers pressing insistently against his prostate.

“You’re going to make me come,” Childe pants out.

“That was always my intention.” He taps his finger against the very tip of his cock, and then the wet heat of Zhongli’s mouth is back over him, tongue swiping over the crown of it. Zhongli sinks down halfway, his tongue sliding over his shaft and massaging the veins.

And when Zhongli yet again rubs his prostate, he comes with a shout, feeling his own cum sucked down as it comes out.

Slowly, Zhongli’s mouth leaves him, and even slower still, his fingers slide out of him, and Childe feels all of his body sink deeper into the bed.

“That’s better. Nice and relaxed. Perfect.”

He can barely hear Zhongli’s quiet voice over his own heavy breaths. He watches as Zhongli yet again reaches for the lube and strokes his cock, coating it liberally.

This is really going to happen, he thinks. I’m actually going to get fucked by Zhongli.

Zhongli shifts, limbs catching the light as he rearranges and props up Childe’s legs, slotting in between. “You look so lovely when you come,” he says, leaning down to plant a salty kiss against Childe’s lips, and Childe opens up beneath him. When Zhongli pulls away, he blinks dazedly. “I can’t wait to see how much lovelier you look coming on my cock.”

“I want to, make me come again Zhongli,” and the heated gaze he gets in return is enough to make his cock start to regain interest. Another quick kiss, and then Zhongi sits back on his haunches. The head of Zhongli’s cock slides along the cleft of Childe’s ass, wet and slow and purposeful, and before Childe can find it in him to try and kick him into movement, Zhongli pushes it against his hole, sliding inside.

Their noises - Childe’s whimper and Zhongli’s groan - mix together as Childe feels his walls open for the length of thick cock. His hands scramble against Zhongli’s chest and find purchase in the taunt lines of his shoulders.

“Fuck,” he breathes, “Zhongli…”

Zhongli’s dick is definitely the largest thing he’s had inside him, and he pulls down, keeping Zhongli’s chest against his own, his own cock wedged between them. His nerves are sparking alight, the coil in his stomach starting to wind again. He feels so full, like he’s been completed in a way he hasn’t before, and one of his legs hooks around Zhongli’s hips, digging in his heel into the divot there.

When Zhongli’s finally in him all the way, hilted to the base, his balls brushing Childe’s skin, he lets out another growl that seems to reverberate through Childe’s entire body. “You feel so good,” he groans out, head dropping to by next Childe’s ear. His ponytail drapes over his back and brushes Childe’s side, the touch causing him to shiver under Zhongli’s blazing body heat. He wants to be closer still, he wants their bodies to meld and never come apart.

The first thrust is slow, measured, Zhongli rolling his hips and it nearly causes Childe to choke on his own air. One of his hands slips from from Zhongli’s shoulder and up, back to the nape of his neck where he can immerse his hand in his hair. It’s always been something that’s so pretty, something he’s only been able to admire from afar - much like most of Zhongli, really - but now he can wind his hair around it, feel the way the soft strands rub, touch and tug and hold.

Another thrust, firmer than the first, has them both moaning again, and Zhongli’s breath comes out hotly right by his ear, and then teeth graze his earlobe. “You’re perfect,” he feels more than he hears, and the praise makes his cock twitch between them. “You take me so well.”

“Yes, yes…” the words are punched out of his chest with another thrust, and then another, each thrust harder the first until his thighs are trembling. All he can hear is the lewd slap of skin against skin and the noises Zhongli is making, and he tries to move Zhongli’s head so they can kiss again. His lips miss their target, instead smearing spit over the length of Zhongli’s cheekbone, but then Zhongli tilts and thrusts deeper - fuck - at the same time he pushes their lips together messily. Their teeth clack and every roll of Zhongli’s hips has them both swallowing each other’s noises of pleasure, but it still leaves Childe woozier than any drink or fight could make him.

He can feel the tension winding in him, his cock jostling precum onto his stomach every each thrust, and then the head of Zhongli’s cock finally pushes against his prostate. Childe keens into Zhongli’s mouth, and then breaks free of the kiss. “You’re so, hah, big, fuck, Zhongli.”

They kiss again and again, each one sloppy and messy but no less heated, the universe narrowed to just the two of them and all the places they join together. Zhongli’s never been more beautiful than in this moment, when he’s making room for himself Childe and flushed and sweaty and moaning Childe’s name like he too, could never bear to be parted. They’re too close for eye contact like this, even when they’re not kissing, but every part of him he sees feels like a new experience, a selfish part of this he can keep for himself even as he’s needily pushing his hips up to meet Zhongli.

Everything he felt earlier tonight pales to this when Zhongli humps into him and rocks against his prostate every time, stars practically forming beneath his eyelids and all sort of obscene moans leaving his lips with no way to stop them. He’s going to blow soon, there’s no way he can hold on with every part of him boiling and burning in Zhongli’s embrace.

“Childe,” Zhongli says, like a mantra, “Childe…” his hips rock hard and faster, and beneath Childe’s foot, Zhongli’s ass clenches as he fully sheathes and his cock twitches as he fills Childe’s hole with hot, cum, making Childe whimper at the sensation - which is drowned out by the final growl that leaves Zhongli.

“Zhongli, please…” Childe practically mewls, rutting his hips, even as he’s still filled with cock and cum.

Zhongli’s hand wraps around his throbbing cock, weeping with neglect, and slides his fingers over the head and gives him a firm pump. It only takes a few before Childe shudders in his own orgasm, crying out Zhongli’s name as he arches and coats Zhongli’s fist.

Only then, does Zhongli flop down, their skin sticking to each other.

Neither of them say anything for a long while, listening to the sound of their breathing, until Zhongli’s nuzzles his head against Childe’s neck.

“... Was that enjoyable for you?” He asks, which is crazy, because he’s an ancient god with a huge cock. “Or rather, did it live up to the expectations?”

“No wet dream I ever had could make me come like that,” Childe says honestly, and drags his gaze from the ceiling to the top of Zhongli’s head. It’s close. He could probably kiss it.

“I am glad,” Zhongli murmurs, and drops an affectionate kiss against whatever skin his mouth can reach. Maybe if he felt less boneless he’d blush, but at the moment, he’s still reeling from the revelation he’s just had sex with Zhongli.

“What about you…?”

Zhongli laughs, a little breathlessly and quietly, like something just for the two of them to share. “Do not fret, Childe. You were more than I could ever have dreamed of.” With a grunt, he pulls out of Childe, letting the cum stream down the inside of his things and cool on the bedding. He sits up, and looks down at Childe with a smile and gaze that is far too soft and warm for Childe to cope with at the moment. His hand brushes his hair, swipes it over his forehead where it’s gotten stuck, and tucks some behind his ear. “If you do not wish to move, don’t worry. I’ll fetch water and a cloth for you.”

What can he do to that, but nod, his heart in his throat? He thinks he should tell Zhongli how much he means to him, even when they weren’t talking, but there is nothing he could say right now that would match to the endless emotion he feels brimming in his heart. “... Thank you,” he finally manages to get out.

Zhongli does leave and return with the promised water, swiping down Childe’s body and coaxing him to drink before pulling the covers over him and extinguishing the lamp. A few beats later, Childe feels the other side of the bed dip with weight, and he curls towards him. Zhongli finds him in the dark, a warm hand and warm arm wrapping around him into an embrace he doesn’t want to leave, even if he thought he could. His fingers search for Zhongli’s and he intertwines them together, thinking of how this is the best place he could ever be.

“Good night,” Zhongli whispers to him, and the steady pulse of his heart by Childe’s ear lulls him to sleep before he can muster the strength to say it back.