[ he had been waiting for the smallest signal that childe understood, be it one word or a soft gaze or a graze of his hand. it was not a matter of if, but when. he watches as childe's words taper off into nothing and he drops his gaze to his neck—to that mark, undoubtedly. the quietude that follows is almost enough. zhongli is seconds from breaking it when childe's hand reaches out.
zhongli is silent, watching him. he swallows once before childe's fingers find his skin, his parted lips coming closed. he raises his chin, and again, he feels that small current under his skin, swirling upward to meet where childe's thumb presses to his pulse. it's less startling now than before, but it's a reminder nonetheless: zhongli is as much a part of this as childe, just as subject to his weaknesses.
he doesn't reach to peel childe's fingers from around his neck. without taking his eyes from childe's, he tips his head away from where his thumb presses down, baring his neck as if it's a show of complacency. it dares him to squeeze at his throat, crush his windpipe, sever a vein—and knows that he would never do such a thing. not to him. not like this, anyway.
zhongli reaffirms his hold over childe's hip, as if holding him steady. he gives into his impulse and gently presses his thumb to childe's mark, feeling the elemental energy rushing to meet him. it's almost reassuring, though zhongli hardly needs any more of that.
with his free hand, zhongli smooths his fingers over childe's jaw and over the edge of his cheek, his fingertips combed into that mess of orange hair. he should have taken off his gloves while he still could.
despite the dangerous circumstances, the way he looks at childe could almost be described as tender. ]
Childe. [ he hesitates a moment, then corrects himself: ] Tartaglia. I've waited for you long enough.
[ zhongli's fingers sink into childe's hair, and, if childe allows, zhongli draws him forward to meet his kiss. ]
It wasn't always this way. Once, he'd been quiet, shy, a boy of daydreams and fairytales. But that boy had died ten years ago, at the bottom of a cavern lit by sickly purple runes and artificial starlight. He tries, around his siblings, to cobble together enough shreds of "Ajax" to shield them from reality, but in truth, that hasn't been him for a decade. Sometimes, he doubts it was ever truly him in the first place--that the potential for Tartaglia always lurked deep in his heart, and that the Abyss simply broke apart the shell that encased it.
Whatever the case, the fact remains that here and now, Zhongli has chosen to communicate with him in the language he speaks best. He does more than indulge Childe's audacity--he bares his throat, offering a level of vulnerability, of trust, that Childe hasn't done anything to deserve.
It would be so easy to tighten his grip. To tap into his Vision, drive five small, watery blades into delicate skin, to stain his white gloves red. It almost certainly wouldn't kill Zhongli, and Childe would never attack him like this anyway, even if his petulant grudge had been truly hateful--but he could.
It's enough to make his own breath catch in his throat. Enough to rip through all the words they've exchanged, freeing him from his Harbinger-honed reflex of searching for deception, hidden traps or misdirections. It's even enough to assuage his other, more personal doubts... almost. He's not naive enough, not able to trust enough, to let one meaningful gesture settle every bit of conflict that's been roused in his heart. But it does mean that he doesn't jerk away when Zhongli tightens his hold on him, or when he reaches out. It means he holds perfectly still, his eyes finally moving back up to search Zhongli's, meeting that tenderness with the sort of wonder that comes with pondering the unbelievable, like the vastness of the universe or the depths of the sea. The affection of a god.
In this moment, he looks very mortal.
The sound of his name--and it is his name now, has been for years--sends a shudder pulsing through him, an involuntary and unfamiliar thing. And to think he'd been so confident about how this evening would go. Maybe it'll be funny in the future.
He doesn't miss the fact that Zhongli draws him in, instead of moving himself forward--but neither does it escape him that Zhongli's using a light touch. The opening strike is Zhongli's, but Childe could block it, if he wanted to.
He doesn't want to. He's still unsure about a lot of things, but not about that.
Whether or not Zhongli's kiss is soft, Childe meets him with demanding fervor. His hand drops from Zhongli's neck to grab his collar instead, the other moving to grip Zhongli's arm, as if to stop him from going too far, should he pull away. It is as much a threat as it is a confession, the very embodiment of the way Childe behaves around him. A bold grab for Zhongli's attention, for--everything Zhongli has to give, really.
It drives him crazy to know that Zhongli won't meet him at full strength in battle. This is a kiss that says I won't let you hold back here, too.
He is so, so bad about wanting things. It's only going to get worse, if he keeps being allowed to have them.
Also, they are definitely going to get caught making out in this hallway.]
since his abdication, zhongli has never missed the awe that came with being the geo archon. the duties he performed for the good of the human race were just that: the obligation allotted to the one with the most power. he did only what he felt he should do as their sole protector. the reverence of his people was a tool for keeping the peace, but the awe and wonder—morax neither wanted it nor sought it out. he would humbly accept his peoples' gratitude yet turn away from the statues and lacquered screens made in his likeness. he was a guardian, a general—not a heavenly being to be worshipped.
when childe stares up at him with those shining and awestruck eyes, infinitely blue, that streak of humility is broken. he wants that wondrous look, over and over.
whatever the intent of zhongli's kiss had been, it's lost in the way that childe surges forward and crushes his mouth against his. it's hard enough to ache, teeth pushing against teeth, as if the bindings that held him finally came loose. he tastes dessert, the wine, the faint hint of water. he feels childe's intent in how the crease of his collar pushes and burns into his skin, the sear of childe's fingers tightly pulling his arm. all of this, it says, is only for him. zhongli is briefly pulled in under the great wave of him, ensnaring and hungry.
then zhongli rises to meet him, as if childe had broken past some unspoken boundary. his desire spills open like blood from a freshly sliced wound. he roughly cranes his neck forward, his mouth opening and closing as he draws a sharp breath in. the light sway of the ship, its passengers, and the moon outside are barely thoughts in his mind. all of everything is tartaglia, lithe and warm against him, forcing his attention as if he could think of anyone else.
his fingers twist in the hair at the back of childe's head, holding him in place. the hand at his hip comes away, and instead he hooks his arm around his waist, splaying his palm against the curve of his back, bent like the string of a bow.
his mouth opens again, his breath hot, and he runs the crowns of his teeth over childe's lower lip. he yanks his hair downward to bare his throat, and then he closes his mouth over the base of it, tempted to bite and suck but ultimately deciding against it.
his lips drag on his skin as he leans over childe's shoulder. he murmurs to his ear in a low rumble: ]
Not here.
[ like he's not part of the problem. all of this to say: however much childe wanted him, zhongli felt the same in equal measure, if not more. there are doors in this hallway. one of them has to be open.
somewhere on the deck outside, ningguang unknowingly loses a bet. it's what she gets for assuming that zhongli is a better judge of character. ]
[It's exactly what she gets tbh. She could stand to lose more bets, in Beidou's opinion.
But there's truly such a difference between knowing and experiencing. Childe's well aware of that, of course, just like any warrior worth their salt would be. But when it comes to intimacy--well, no. When it comes to Zhongli, specifically, it's different.
Long before he'd known Zhongli's truly identity, he'd guessed at the strength hidden behind Zhongli's scholarly demeanor. Childe might be easy to manipulate, but he's not stupid; Zhongli could act as gentlemanly as he wanted, but Childe had recognized the type of warrior that lay underneath. Childe likes to burst onto the battlefield like a flash flood. Zhongli is the type to stroll in like the battle's already been won.
If he'd had to guess how Zhongli would kiss (which is not something he's ever wondered about, definitely, but if it were), he would've wagered it would be the same. Steady, grounding, a solid anchor in a storm. Thousands of years of patience and confidence, unyielding to even the fiercest onslaught.
Never would he have thought that Zhongli would respond to him in kind. It would be overwhelming if it weren't so utterly delightful, and Childe thrives under the attention. He throws himself against the sharp edges of desire all the time, with every fierce battle he seeks. Like hell he'll shy away from it now.
He doesn't know how to handle the idea of Zhongli treating him gently, like one of his countless hoarded treasures. He might very well fall apart.
Not that he isn't halfway there anyway, with the cut of Zhongli's teeth, the strength in his grip. He tenses for a moment when Zhongli pulls his hair, tempted to resist just for the sake of being defiant--but it seems stupid to be a brat about something he wants, and besides, Zhongli's mouth is very persuasive. Zhongli pulls away before he has the chance to lean into it, though, and he shudders again at the tone of Zhongli's voice before he even has a chance to process his words.
There's a myriad of half-baked sentiments on his tongue as he tries to catch his breath, heart racing. Since when has this been an option? and "inexperienced" my ass you damn liar and no really, did you literally just decide this five minutes ago or what--but all he actually manages to get out is a string of Snezhnayan curses, which he cuts off on his own by ducking his head, sinking his teeth into the mark on Zhongli's neck.
Zhongli resisted temptation. Childe has no such reservations.]
If you're fucking with me, [he says finally, rough and breathless against Zhongli's skin,] I'll never forgive you.
[It's more vulnerability than he'd like to show--more than he'd even realized he had left, honestly. But this is the only way he knows how to show trust: by revealing, little by little, how guarded and wary he actually is.]
you can assume zhongli takes him to another room idk this is too long and i rewrote it a bunch
[ there's a small swell of pride as zhongli recognizes the sneznhayan phrases in broken pieces. he can't help his subtle, hidden smile as his grip comes loose from childe's hair. he expects a kiss or a murmur, however deep or demanding—
pain bursts where childe sinks his teeth into his skin. zhongli shuts his eyes and breathes in as he withstands the bolt of pain in his neck. it isn't overwhelming at all, only a small shock of something he hasn't felt in an age.
the moment childe draws away, zhongli's blood rushes to meet the red ring on his neck. childe will see how brightly the riptide sigil glows beneath his lips; it shimmers where he shapes his words, quietly willing for him to return. if there was any hope that they would return to the event outside, that bite has snuffed it out completely.
childe isn't a real threat. zhongli has felt unimaginable pain, and each of childe's attempts to grab his attention is a grain of sand on an ocean floor. but childe tries anyway, slipping challenges into casual conversation, smiling at him with shining canines, waiting for the moment when the late two archon finally relents. even now, he kisses him hard enough to hurt, bites his neck and snarls at him, scrabbles for all he has to give.
this ferocity, too, is something that zhongli loves. it's a twisted want borne out of an insatiable and admirable drive for strength, even if teetered on the edge of lunacy. it's want all the same.
zhongli's desire flares and flickers with childe's breathless mutter. the bite behind his words is lost in their meaning: that childe's hidden hopes were coming to fruition, and he wants to trust that zhongli wouldn't stop.
he affects childe that deeply. he almost feels selfish for indulging in that truth.
he rests his cheek on childe's hair, muttering again to his ear: ]
You think I'd be so cruel?
[ zhongli japes and teases, but only to a certain extent. in contrast, his actions are carefully measured, clear in their intentions, solid as stone. (still, he doesn't explicitly say no. it's almost purposely provoking.)
he lifts his head to see the slope of childe's neck disappearing into his open collar. he leans down and noses past it; he presses a slow kiss to that pale skin, his tongue gently skimming the surface. he tastes the saltwater from earlier in the evening, when childe sat on the ship's banister and lifted his head, smiling at the breeze and sea-spray as if it welcomed him home.
zhongli runs his fingers upward into that nest of orange hair again, this time to simply hold childe against him. it isn't lost on him that this is the closest they've ever been. childe might feel the dull beating of his old heart against his.
he briefly keeps his mouth pressed to his neck, collecting his next words. when he finds them, he (forcibly) draws away to stand straight, his hands falling to childe's waist and the side of his neck. he tips his head forward and regards childe with his golden gaze, searching between his eyes. ]
We should go somewhere without interruptions. [ he traces his thumb over the edge of childe's jaw. it would be so easy to bring childe against the wall behind him and kiss him again, but he has more fortitude than that. he drops his hand down to grasp childe's forearm. ] Follow me.
LMKSJDGHKH both of us watching our tags spiral out of control
[Cruel? No, not really. But what's a mortal's idea of cruelty to an ancient martial god? It's all too easy for an Archon's reasoning to lack humanity. Childe's spent enough time around them to know that.
Truthfully, he doesn't think Zhongli would toy with him like this. Especially not now that Childe's shown his hand. (All that earlier awkwardness probably makes a lot more sense now, doesn't it, Zhongli?) But life has taught him not to assume. He'd been so convinced Zhongli was wrong about the meaning of these marks--that doubt hadn't come from nowhere, and it hasn't disappeared so easily.
...But he wants to trust. No matter how bad of an idea it is, he can't think of anything he wants more in this moment. And even if it is the wrong choice, it might just be worth it, purely for the taste of Zhongli's skin on his tongue.
It's so, so difficult to try and concentrate anyway. He always hates untangling plots and schemes, would much rather lose himself in the physicality of battle. There's no way he's going to bother trying to think too hard when Zhongli's mouth is hot and damp, sending electric sparks up his nerves that make his fingers flex. When he's heady with the power of drawing reactions from Zhongli, too, the potential to rile him up finally dangling within his reach.
It can't be a stupid decision if it's one you're making knowingly, right? Right.
He doesn't actually answer the question, which is, perhaps, an answer in and of itself. He doesn't fight Zhongli's hold, either, even though he doesn't relax into it--it's not wariness, just a keyed up restless energy. His eyes never have any light in them, but when he meets Zhongli's gaze, they're even darker than usual. He wants so badly to drag him back into another kiss, to catch Zhongli's thumb with his teeth, to push in every way he can until Zhongli snaps, just to see what happens when he does.
Instead, he lifts a hand to Zhongli's face, brushing his thumb along the sharp edge of his eyeliner. When he pulls away, there's a smudge of red on his glove.]
Yeah, [He says, instead of but consider: what if we stay right here and just kill anyone who opens the door] alright.
[He can't remember the last time he took someone to bed, but it doesn't matter. Zhongli ruined him for anyone else long before tonight.
...At least, that's what he's assuming is happening here. What happened to talking, Childe? No? Okay.
Because I think it's funny, I'm making the executive decision that there are people in the room of whatever door they open first. Zhongli, a somewhat rational person who cares about his reputation, would probably just say "excuse me" and try another room. Childe, on the other hand, solves this problem very quickly by throwing a Hydro dagger at them--it sails neatly past them and embeds itself in the wall directly above their heads. (There was no risk of it actually hitting them, but they don't need to know that.)
[ those darkened, half-lidded eyes might have alarmed someone else; even zhongli has a glint to his, albeit outshined by the rings of amber and yellow. however, he has watched those eyes more than any person in liyue, he presumes. with the range of their conversations seeming to span nigh-infinitely, he thought he knew their every hue.
this one is entirely new. the greed in them is nearly palpable, and it's focused entirely on him—a warning to anyone else who might approach. he still meets their gaze unflinchingly, lost in that blue as much as before, knowing that this look is his alone—hopefully.
he holds that gaze even as childe's takes his cheek into his palm and presses his thumb to the soft edge of his eye. he blinks only once as it swipes and smudges his makeup. he makes no move to correct it.
it's regrettable now, how he hadn't given in sooner to the idea that childe had feelings for him. he would have enjoyed provoking him throughout the evening to his chagrin until the pieces were finally put together. there's some solace in the idea that if the night continues on well enough, there may be future opportunities to make up for it. ]
[ right now, they'll probably be lucky if they're invited back onto the ocean's pearl anytime soon. if anything was going to be a mood killer, it would be zhongli knocking on countless doors until he found an empty room. somehow, this is worse.
in comes childe before zhongli's knuckles even reach the hardwood. zhongli catches the doorknob before it closes on him, just in time to see that hydro dagger shoot in the air and hit the wall of the room with a comically loud twang, scaring the shit out of its occupants. they stay where they are, crowded and stunned back against the wall, shaking when childe makes his command.
two of the women wail at different octaves. one man begs not to be killed, he has four daughters and a dog. zhongli lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. ]
Please excuse us.
[ he says while the terrified gaggle of people file out like their lives depend on it (and it does), like an apology will do anything at all. ningguang will be asking the northland bank for reparations for the new dent in the wall. the only bright side of this is that they probably paid no attention to the glowing mark on zhongli's neck or the telling smudged eyeliner.
once the fiasco ends, he releases his nose and comes inside. the door falls closed behind him. he looks at childe flatly. ]
[Listen. This is what they get for not locking the door.
Childe is not stupid, so he does lock the door. But then he grins at Zhongli, utterly unrepentant. The Hydro dagger vanishes with a splash, leaving nothing but the damaged wall behind.]
Then I'm sure our friends will have no trouble picking up where they left off. [CHILDE.]
[ CHILDE........ zhongli's hand goes up to his forehead and he closes his eyes. why does he love him. ]
I'm certain they'll be asking if there are lifeboats on the ship. A lock may not be enough if someone with a Vision comes looking for whoever caused this.
[ pragmatic as ever. they're probably going to name zhongli in this too, as an accomplice. why. ]
[ he's. going to try to move on from this. he expels a deep sigh and lowers his hand. they have the room regardless. he wouldn't risk leaving now, not to chase down the couple and certainly not to lose his opportunity to meet childe alone. not after everything that's just happened.
he walks forward until he meets childe toe-to-toe where he stands. ]
It doesn't matter.
[ he reaches again for his waist with both hands, because finally he's able to touch him and pull him close without remorse. finally. childe is as thin and toned as he might have guessed, his muscle taut under his fingers. he can appreciate it now, without the thought in the back of his mind that anyone might come in and spoil it all.
he leans forward until his nose sidled beside childe's. he resists the indelible urge to kiss him breathless. it's unlike him. ]
[Hmmmm. Childe thinks about the ridiculous scene they made before they abandoned the rest of the group and decides that it's highly unlikely anyone else on this ship is that oblivious. No one is going to want to risk being scandalized that badly.]
We'll be fine.
[And even if they're not, there's the potential for a fight, so. Win/win as far as he's concerned.
Far more important is the way Zhongli reaches out for him--Childe goes willingly, sliding his hands under the jacket of Zhongli's suit. It's difficult not to hesitate or get a little overwhelmed by this newfound freedom that's somehow, apparently, been his all along. But he doesn't want to get caught up in all of that when he could focus on how close Zhongli is, instead.
He's decided to trust. If it's the wrong choice, he'll deal with it when the time comes.
Still, his expression shifts from playful audacity into something softer--still heated, but less wild than before. As if sensing the way Zhongli's holding himself back, Childe nudges him gently, adjusting until he can lean in and kiss him instead, just once. A taunt, maybe, without the edge.]
...You never said anything. [Granted, Childe didn't either, but he'd had a mission to focus on. He had good reasons for being oblivious. Maybe.] I didn't think you cared about [A pause.] romance.
[Is that what this is? It doesn't feel like the right word, but--"soulmates" is too new of a concept, too big for him to think about right this second. And saying it never occurred to me that you might want me as anything more than an amusing mortal friend because you didn't give me your gnosis and you won't fight me properly just sounds pathetic, so. "Romance" it is.
Also he literally said Zhongli couldn't possibly have no relationship experience, like, an hour ago but listen. That's different.]
[ zhongli hadn't lied—when it came to romantic relationships, he was sorely inexperienced. sex, however, was something different. there were those adeptal beings who agreed to his contracts and slipped into morax's bedside. in the same way as childe, he was more acquainted with intimacy than actual romance. the closest thing he had for comparison is his past relationship to guizhong, and even that was undefined. (partnership? friendship? who knows.)
while the feeling of hands on his skin may not be new, it's been a long time since he's felt it. he's already warm beneath his jacket; childe's hands are cooler, the gloves pressing past his shirt and relieving his skin. he should take this jacket off—and he hoped to, in time.
this gaze is something new too. zhongli's expression softens with it, abandoning all traces of his exasperation.
the kiss is almost sweet. zhongli obliges the knock of their noses, and before he takes it as a sign to press forward, childe finds him first. zhongli responds in kind, his eyes slipping closed as he revels in the feeling. his hands slide up childe's back and pull him closer.
zhongli gently chases his lips as the kiss comes to a close, but he draws back to stand tall a moment later. so childe could be tender too, even if he still looks somewhat insatiable. he lowers his eyes between them as he considers his answer. (his eyes also skirt the dip of childe's collarbone, the part of his neck where he kissed. and he could kiss it again.) ]
I'd say your assessment was mostly correct. I wasn't actively seeking out romantic relationships for several reasons, but mostly because my interests lie elsewhere.
[ he can get into those, but that might put a damper on the situation. it's a world of hurt to be an immortal who falls in love with a human and reckons with the fact that they are slowly dying with every passing second. zhongli had enough trouble making peace with the idea that childe may die sooner than most, without any warning or notice.
ANYWAY. he prefers not to bring it up. ]
...Over time, though I was unaware of it, those interests began to include you. I looked forward to your visits. I admired your strength and tenacity but also your cunning and wit. Our conversations were engaging. I felt at peace when we spoke.
[ he raises his eyes back to childe's. this part, he's been thinking about for a little while. he isn't sure how childe will react. ]
I should have already known my feelings when you went to Inazuma.
[ he turns his head aside and brings his fist to his mouth, quickly clearing his throat. don't blush. whatever you do. ]
I... missed having you by my side. I've had thousands of years to hone my patience. It's not often that I feel this way about anyone.
[He should indeed take it off--and if Zhongli doesn't stop him, Childe's going to go for the fastenings of it to get started on just that. His own jacket is still abandoned on the back of his chair out on deck; between that and the dagger in the hallway, he's going to have to go on a veritable scavenger hunt before they disembark. Oh well.
It's tempting to bypass all of that and just slide his hands under Zhongli's shirt to get at his skin, but... no, not while he's still wearing his gloves. Besides, he does actually want to listen to what Zhongli's saying, even if it makes his face heat up all over again. At least Zhongli won't be alone in his embarrassment if he does end up blushing. Gods.]
...You don't have to charm me, Zhongli. I'm not going anywhere. [But it's just a reflexive deflection, not true discomfort. No one's ever spoken of him this way; he doesn't know what to do with it.
Since he left for Inazuma, huh... but Zhongli says "should have", which means he hadn't known. That makes sense--Childe assumes he would've refused to go along with his "lovers" ruse if he'd already been aware. Maybe if Childe hadn't been so caught up in his own realization crisis, he would've noticed, though he probably wouldn't have said anything about it if he had.
He huffs out a quiet laugh, letting his head fall back.]
So what I'm hearing is, we're both idiots.
[Somewhere in the void, Guizhong is probably thinking "yep, that's about right."]
[ with childe's fingers already twisting and unbuttoning, zhongli takes the opportunity to pick his gloves off by the fingertips, any rings and emblems dropping with them. he's done a lot of talking, but he hasn't lost hold of the reason why they're here. once the last button of his jacket is freed, he peels and shrugs it away into a forgotten pile on the floor.
as he does all of this, he takes in the deep red plumes across childe's cheeks. it's endearing, even from someone who had shot off a dagger at an innocent group of people earlier. zhongli can't help reaching out to hold his face again, letting his palm settle over hot skin. he runs his thumb over his cheekbone, watching the red running behind it.
he can't help giving a thin and easy smile at what he says. he lets his eyes fall closed. (childe calls him "zhongli" again, and the sound of it rolls an imperceptible shudder down his body. but something is missing...) ]
I wouldn't have let you go regardless. I was only speaking honestly.
[ the fact that it embarrassed childe is a bonus.
childe leans his head back to laugh, and zhongli's fingers ease down to the back of his neck as he watches, thinking that he's beautiful.
his smile grows wider and gives his own little huff of a laugh. thanks, guizhong. ]
I'm afraid so.
[ stupid idiots who could have gotten what they wanted ages ago, if they weren't gay and dumb.
irresistibly, he cants his head and presses another kiss to childe's neck, just above his exposed adam's apple. childe's earring gently brushes his forehead, cold and light. his tongue slips out from between his lips, and when he kisses that patch of skin again, he runs his teeth over that patch of skin.
his hands wander, one smoothing over his hip and setting his mark ablaze again with golden light. the other hand searches under childe's shirt, sliding up his back and over his side, tracing his thin figure.
zhongli isn't wearing his gloves this time. he takes in the softness and warmth of childe's skin, every texture, every scar. every nerve fires to feel the spread of childe's skin, taut with muscle, smooth to the touch.
zhongli's own body is riddled with scars as well, down to his fingers. a particularly large one, among many others, trails from the back of his hand and disappears into his sleeve. his hands are calloused where the length of his polearm would drag and pull on his palm.
his thumb grazes and presses over his nipple. zhongli swallows and tastes more salt. beautiful, he thinks again, and he opens his eyes. ]
Call me what you like. [ he murmurs and kisses beneath his chin, smiling. ] I'm more fond of that nickname than I realized.
Edited (i was napping and i woke up in a sweat bc i realized i wrote spear instead of polearm) 2022-07-18 00:08 (UTC)
[It's the little things keeping him so off-balance, really. The ease with which Zhongli reaches out to touch him, as if he genuinely has no doubts or qualms at all. The way he lets his jacket fall to the floor without a care, so at odds with how fastidious he typically is. Childe's whole world view has been upended tonight, and that's apparently just going to keep happening with every step they take.
He doesn't want to stop touching, but Zhongli's bare hands are on his skin, brushing over his smaller scars, catching on the edge of the largest one where it arcs across his chest. It suddenly feels vitally important to keep up before he gets too distracted.
He leans back just enough to pull his own gloves off, shoving them into the pocket of his pants. If Zhongli chances a look, he'll see the way Lichtenberg figures crawl up his fingers and spread across the backs of his pale hands--but Childe doesn't waste time once they're off, immediately reaching for Zhongli's shirt. He debates trying to slice the buttons off for about five seconds, but ultimately decides against it. (Mostly because he suspects Zhongli would be fast enough to stop him from succeeding. Damn.)
Still, he tries to work quickly. Partly driven by his own impatient desire, but mostly because it's already horribly tempting to sink into the attention, and it doesn't take a genius to know it's only going to get worse. Zhongli's mouth is so warm, and it's impossible not to lean into that hint of teeth; a goad, perhaps, blunted into encouragement by his eagerness.
Imagine having to kiss Zhongli to sell an act he'd thought earlier. Now, the idea of walking out of here without proof of Zhongli's claim is unacceptable. Oh how quickly the winds change.]
Xiansheng. [It's hard to tell whether he's responding to Zhongli's words, or if it's simple habit, a thoughtless reaction to the press of Zhongli's fingers against his soulmark. He doesn't bother with the last few buttons of Zhongli's shirt, cool, nimble fingers dipping past the fabric and finally, finally making contact. Funny how he hadn't realized he'd wanted this, when it feels like he's waited centuries for it.
Immediately, he zeroes in on the scars he feels, mapping them out just like Zhongli's doing to him. His nails are too short to do any real damage, or he'd try to leave new ones. More's the pity.
He draws in a harsh breath, turning his head to try and catch Zhongli's mouth in a kiss again.] Don't be gentle.
[ zhongli is ancient, not tactless. to take his jacket by the collar, fold it lengthwise, lay it on some nearby desk or chair like it might have deserved—it would have consumed time that was better spent elsewhere. childe was always the one who managed to splinter his patience, scraping incurable grooves into the surface of a boulder.
they were lucky enough that childe unfastened the thing rather pull or slice it off too. the northland bank paid for it, after all, and he still had a shirt to wear out.
he catches a view of those scars on the backs of his hands. they curl like red, spoked ferns or a skeletal tree, its branches reaching just past his knuckles. they would just barely be hidden underneath his half-gloves. he creases his brow, recognizing these scars for what they are and where they might have come from. he should have realized, but childe has never taken off those gloves in front of him before—
the thought falls away when childe calls for him. zhongli reflexively meets his gaze again, his own half-lidded and nearly luminescent as his energy siphons into that brand on his hip. xiansheng. "zhongli" was a name to be shared with everyone, but "xiansheng" was meant only for childe, a little secret between them. this time childe is saying it like never before, and it shudders through his body.
cool hands slip beneath his shirt and search greedily over his chest. zhongli finishes opening the last few buttons on his chest, and afterwards he begins work on finally unbuttoning childe's. zhongli wears several millennia's worth of scars. some are incredibly large: one wraps around one side of his ribs and ends at his shoulderblade; another cuts the side of his stomach, streaking down to his hip. some are small slices of white like long papercuts, the skin gently raised. zhongli could name the origin of each one on his body.
childe sets his skin ablaze under his bare fingers. it's been so long since he's been touched, and never with this much hunger. never with childe.
he steals his kiss and zhongli turns to meet it, attempting to match his eagerness. when it breaks, he keeps their lips kept just centimeters away, his eyes closed as he hears their labored breaths between them. it would be so easy to kiss him again.
like his name, that fervent requests wakes something in him. his yellow eyes come open again, this time with heavy eyelids and parted lips. his hands pause after grasping the plackets of childe's shirt, having undone the last buttons. for zhongli to let loose a want he subconsciously had for him, to assert his selfishness when he had always worn a mild and collected countenance—it may be an opportunity for childe to meet the beast lying dormant within him. of course this is what childe wants: a vague echo of a fight, or maybe even some proof that zhongli could viciously want him back. (and he does.)
he believed he neatly stowed away much of his want after his outburst in the hallway. with childe's words, that resolve begins to break. his anticipation mounts faster than he believed it could. his eyes almost glint. ]
If that is what you want. I won't be.
[ the evening had been full of minor touches and gestures, gazes left unanswered, empty and embarrassed words. this was the moment to make up for it all. he ached to touch him, but most surprisingly, he wanted childe to be weak to him. he'll give him what he's asking for.
zhongli cranes his neck and kisses him sharply enough to hurt. he walks forward, still holding childe's plackets, and boxes him against the wall behind him. he opens childe's shirt and peels it from his shoulders, and at the same time he deepens their fiery kiss and lathes his tongue over the seam of childe's mouth. their chests are flush together, rising and falling with their labored breaths. that mark on childe's waist still glows brightly, pressed against zhongli's hip.
zhongli raises his thigh and pushes it between childe's legs, trapping him where he stands. he grasps at his hair and yanks it again, pulling his ear towards his shoulder. he murmurs again to his skin, his breath hot: ]
[As soon as they're visible, Childe's fingers get to work following the paths of history etched into Zhongli's skin. His touch is almost reverent where it follows that line up his shoulder, and the only thing stopping him from following its path with his mouth is his desire to kiss Zhongli again first.
He's left his mark on Zhongli, even if it was unintentional, and it satisfies something deep within him to know it. But it's not the same. He wants to draw blood. He wants to leave his own scar.
He really needs to stop earning the favor of archons. He's getting spoiled.
Maybe later, he'll make some quip about how he deserves it, what with how much money he's spent on Zhongli's whims. For now, though, he just drinks in the look on Zhongli's face, immediately honing in on that crack in Zhongli's resolve. It makes his own mouth curve up into a grin, audacious and challenging. A shark scenting blood in the water.
Zhongli's absolutely right in his assumptions. He wants Zhongli to want him. He wants to take everything Zhongli gives him, and anything he doesn't. He wants to look into Zhongli's eyes and see even a fraction of the all-consuming desire that's burning Childe up from the inside.
One simple request, and they're halfway there already.
Foolishly, inexplicably, he hadn't expected Zhongli to agree so easily. It means Zhongli has the advantage, even though Childe's the one that made the request. Even so, Childe rises to meet him, lips parting on a moan as his back hits the wall. He digs his fingers into Zhongli's shoulder and buries the other hand in his hair, knocking it out of its neat coiffure. He lets Zhongli taste him, making sure to catch Zhongli's lower lip in his teeth as he does.
With his shirt off, it's easy to see all the scars spread over his skin. Traces of lightning burns scattered up his arms, not unlike the ones on his hands--an arrowhead wound below his ribs here, a stab wound there, above the hip opposite his soulmark. The scar across his chest is clearly one of the oldest, but huge, the sort of injury that would've taken a miracle to survive. If Zhongli really concentrated, he could probably feel the barest remnants of Abyssal taint beneath it.
There are fresher bruises, too, a few days old. Nothing serious, but someone clearly went out and had a fight date on his way here. Wow. Infidelity. (no)
Plenty more scars are scattered over his back, too. Altogether, the image they make is clear: this is the body of a man who wields himself like a weapon. There's another layer to Childe's request, probably one that's easy to deduce from the sight of him: the simple human desire to chase as much sensation as possible. Childe's done a number on his nerves over the years. It's a wonder he still feels anything at all.
Clearly he does, though. If he didn't, he probably wouldn't press his body so firmly against Zhongli's, wouldn't drag in breath through his teeth, hissing like an untamed animal. The soulmark burns where they touch, and for a wild moment, Childe wonders if it's going to brand him permanently. He'd never live it down, but it's not an unpleasant thought.
Is this what you asked for? Zhongli says, and it is, more than he knows how to convey in words. He doesn't even consider answering for a minute, too caught up in dragging his hips over Zhongli's thigh. He could probably stay just like this, with Zhongli's voice low and commanding in his ear, and be satisfied.
But Childe wouldn't be himself if he settled, even for something he's clearly enjoying. It's a subtle shift in demeanor, but even if Zhongli can't see his face, he can probably sense the exact moment Childe decides he wants to be provocative.]
That's it, old man? [Somehow, he manages that playful lilt, even through his rapid, shallow breaths. He pushes impossibly closer, worming one hand between them to resume his exploration of Zhongli's scars. The other drops from his hair back to the riptide mark, and he presses the heel of his palm against it as he grinds against Zhongli's thigh again. Is he trying to get a reaction, or is he just taking his own pleasure? Yes.]
[ that grin is a smooth crescent of white, the curve of a blade. zhongli recognizes it immediately. childe wore it each time needled him with proposals to spar or talked about his battles in the golden house—always when he spoke about fighting, when even the thought of it was an incomparable thrill. now, childe is wearing it now like a show of victory. zhongli seals it shut with his lips.
that moan is abrupt and arresting, short enough to leave him wanting—a successful bait on childe's part. pain pricks where childe's nails bite into his skin, as innocuous as insect bites. the tie of his hair comes undone and slowly slips to the ground among their scattered clothes. strands of neat, brown hair fan behind and bend over his shoulders as he murmurs to childe's ear.
the intimidating, innumerable scars are a mosaic between their bodies. the magnitude of childe's scars is unsurprising given his appetite for combat, but zhongli couldn't have predicted the immense gash across his chest. it came into view as zhongli stripped him, his eyes briefly flickering wide before they share their hungry kiss. he traces the length of it with his fingers, brushing the scar tissue gathered at the edges. abyssal energy prickles under his fingertips like the sting of a beadlet anemone, harmless as it harpoons into his skin.
even after this life-threatening wound, childe still chases his adrenaline highs, feeding the infection of abyssal energy while it eats at his life. the tragic truth is that foul legacy is as much a part of childe as anything else; zhongli would be foolish to deny it. there's a possibility that a sliver of it is nestled in the mark on zhongli's neck.
all thoughts slip out of view as childe arches into him, rutting his hips as if it were irresistible, leaving no sound but his labored breaths and the rhythmic shift of fabric. more important than anything was the fact that childe wanted him madly—enough to crush their mouths together with their first kiss, bite into his neck, demand that he be torn into. the hairline crack in zhongli's resolve begins to part. he can't look away.
childe provokes him, touches him, digs his palm against that mark as if to sear it into his skin. zhongli sucks in a shaky breath, feeling the mark swirl and burn against his skin, almost electric. childe is hard and straining against his thigh, and as he moves, his leg grazes over zhongli's growing erection. childe wants the upper hand.
even then, zhongli can see through that guise of composure, betrayed by his erratic breaths and reckless hips. he knows childe too well not to. that burning pain reaches its threshold, and as zhongli learns to bear it, he offers that knowing smile that says he knows childe's secret. without looking, he reaches down and quickly unfurls childe's belt from its buckle. he kisses him again. ]
It feels as though you may not need much more.
[ zhongli runs a curled finger down the length of childe's erection. before, childe considered how it would feel to be collected and possessed and hoarded in a dragon's nest of treasures. that dragon's instinct was seeping through the cracks. zhongli wants to stake his claim; he would draw the words he wants most from that snide and smiling mouth—ones that tell him tartaglia is his.
when that belt is pulled and dropped away, zhongli slides both of this thighs between childe's and grasps at his hips. he holds childe like he's weightless, lifting him and dragging him against that wall as he shoves their hips together. pleasure jolts between his legs, and he stifles his groan against childe's mouth.
he licks past lips and teeth and pushes their tongues together, liquid hot and unforgiving. he raises his hand and closes it over childe's throat, his thumb and first finger holding his jaw in place. he yanks childe's face aside and bites with a vice grip on the side of his neck.
he should have more decorum. he normally does. isn't it fair and just, though, that if zhongli wears the riptide mark on his neck, childe should wear something on his own?
he sucks hard, rolling his hips, his cock aching and hot as it runs against childe's. he doesn't notice the dark hue creeping up his fingertips, revealing a circuitry of gold over a canvas of deep brown. it's faint, but as that vicious need rears its head, those colors would undoubtedly darken and spread. ]
[It's hard to say whether or not his indignant protest would've had any real heat behind it, with the way his voice gets lost in Zhongli's mouth. (But really, it's a good thing--it muffles the moan that would've cut his voice off anyway, even if Zhongli will still be able to feel it.)
He knows how strong Zhongli is, of course. When he'd first been assigned to Liyue, he'd torn through every bit of information he could get his hands on about the true extent of Rex Lapis's power. He's daydreamed about fighting Zhongli far too much to be unaware.
And yet.
There's something about the way Zhongli moves him around, lifting him like it's nothing--something about the way Zhongli can touch his scars so gently one minute, then grind so filthily against him the next, that makes his head spin and his blood sing.
He does want the upper hand, Zhongli's right about that. And everything Zhongli is doing is only making him want it even more--rousing that belligerent spirit, the part of him that never lets him back down from pushing his limits.
His time in Inazuma did him good; he's stronger than he's ever been. But Zhongli always makes him feel so dangerously weak. He revels in it, he can't stand it--conflict twists and swells inside him, even as he coaxes Zhongli's tongue into his mouth, or sinks his teeth into Zhongli's lower lip.
It's no wonder he's obsessed with Zhongli's attention. He thrives in turmoil--even his own, apparently. What's one more contradiction to stitch into his identity?
Zhongli forces his head to the side, sinks his teeth in like a viper, and Childe tells himself that he permits it. He pretends it's intentional submission to save his own sanity, because otherwise he'd have to kick up a huge fuss, and he's too busy for that. Hooking his legs around Zhongli's waist and keeping himself upright through the strength of his core, unwilling to let himself lean back and let the wall support him, no matter how Zhongli might crush him against it. A small act of unconscious defiance, simply because it's in his blood. It doesn't stop Zhongli from drawing another moan out of him, low and rich with pleasure-pain, but Childe doesn't care about being heard. If it incenses Zhongli further? Even better.
He'd targeted that mark on Zhongli's neck on purpose, but his hand moves from it, almost of its own accord, to the base of Zhongli's neck, fingers curling into soft hair. His other hand started a path downward as soon as Zhongli got to work on his belt, but he's been hovering around the edge Zhongli's pants--debating whether to give in to impatience and deal with the awkward angle, or to speak up, to tell Zhongli he wants to touch and taste and--ah, well, that's probably the best they can manage out at sea, isn't it. Damn.
He's just made up his mind, starting to dip slender fingers past the waistband of Zhongli's trousers, testing to see how far he can get without undoing them. But then his eyes catch on Zhongli's hand, and he pauses, brow furrowing.
Is this part of the soulmark, too? Childe's own hands look totally normal, but that doesn't mean anything when their marks are in different places.
It takes him a second to try and catch his breath, but then he tugs on Zhongli's hair--once to get his attention, but then again, just because he can. He's reluctant to rouse him from his singleminded devotion to leaving a mark the size of Liyue on Childe's neck, but he should probably point it out, just in case, right? He can focus for a minute. Probably.]
Ah--xiansheng-- [His voice hitches as Zhongli's cock catches his just right, sending pleasure lancing through him.
On second thought, maybe he doesn't need to say anything. Instead, he withdraws his hand from Zhongli's pants, reaching instead for Zhongli's hand. He pries it off of his thigh and pulls it up to his lips instead, closing his mouth around Zhongli's index finger and curling his tongue around it with a wickedly pleased hum.
[ childe pries zhongli's hand from his thigh and, though childe keeps himself upright by his own muster, zhongli reflexively shifts his grip to childe's ass, beside where his tailbone meets the wall. zhongli squeezes hard, holding what little weight childe allows him to.
it's almost an unconscious punishment. stubborn as always. zhongli holds his composure as childe moans, deep and unbridled, flashing pleasure down zhongli's body. he is incensed by it all, to some degree. there is an appeal to breaking down that haughtiness and arrogance, if he could ever manage it.
when he closes his lips over the fresh bruise on childe's neck, he feels that warm and wet swirl on his finger, pushing against the roof of childe's mouth as he groans. zhongli inwardly shudders at the sensation, drawing back to see exactly what's happening—
ah. there's a subtle raising of brows, but zhongli seems to instantly reckon with what's happening.
he watches the slide of childe's tongue on the underside of his finger, the pink line of it briefly slipping out over his lower lip. he watches cooly despite childe's enraptured performance, though his blood and breath run hot. he pushes his finger onto the soft middle of childe's tongue. ]
I should have expected this.
[ which is a feat in itself, so there's a point for childe, sort of. zhongli isn't caught off-guard often, and certainly not in situations like this one. he draws his finger from childe's lips slowly.
(in the middle of his right forearm is a golden print of a blooming glaze lily, seen from above. it looks unassumingly similar to the rest of the designs; childe may not pay any special attention to it, even if it means the world to zhongli.) ]
I'll note that particular care is needed to maintain my mortal appearance in these situations.
[ he squares and presses his hips against childe's, in just the right angle to send another bolt of pleasure through his body. in the same movement, the slow crawl of that dark brown skin slips all the way to his shoulders like a long sweep of paint, as if he'd just released whatever force held it back.
he replaces his index finger with two, pressing them to childe's lips and then pushing inside to find his tongue. he watches with rapt attention, gold eyes narrowed, not betraying an ounce of emotion otherwise.
leaving childe to hold himself up with his legs locked on zhongli's hips, zhongli blindly opens the front of childe's pants and slips his fingers past the opening. his hand closes on the length of his cock, hard behind the fabric of his undergarments, and he presses his thumb to its leaking, smooth tip. childe might feel zhongli's erection swell.
if childe wanted to be a spectacle, he could be one for now, under his direction. ]
I won't bother to hide my skin any longer with you. You don't seem to mind it.
[It's tempting to let his eyes fall shut, to sink into every touch and savor the taste of Zhongli's skin while Zhongli takes him apart. But the way Zhongli is looking at him, his eyes bright like molten gold, does far more for his pleasure than even the press of Zhongli's cock against his, and he couldn't look away even if he'd wanted to.
This is what he's longed for. The full weight of Morax's gaze, fixated on him like there's no one else in the world to pay attention to in this moment. Like he's little more than a too-bold mortal courting battles he can't possibly hope to win--but that he's one worth noticing. Maybe even one worth acknowledging.
He lets Zhongli withdraw, but not without scraping his teeth against his knuckles as he does so. But he doesn't let Zhongli go far; instead, he chases his hand and presses a line of warm, open-mouthed kisses from Zhongli's palm to his wrist, reverent in his blasphemy.
He pulls back a little and opens his mouth to speak, but whatever he'd intended to say is lost to a gasp as Zhongli thrusts against him, his eyes widening as he watches color wash over Zhongli's skin.
It shouldn't be as surprising as it is--he'd done plenty of research on Adepti once he'd arrived in Liyue, and he'd known Rex Lapis could change his appearance. But this isn't what he'd expected, from the stories; it never would've occurred to him that Zhongli maintains a human facade every day. It rouses a thousand questions, none of which he's capable of holding onto, because...
Well. Because Zhongli's inhumanly beautiful, and Childe can't look at him without getting hopelessly distracted. That's really all there is to it.
The idea that Zhongli doesn't want to hold back--that he's having trouble holding back--is so heady that Childe hardly knows what to do with it. The mark on his hip pulses deep beneath his skin, like it's resonating with Zhongli's true appearance.
(Or maybe it's just responding to his ridiculous heart, twisting with tremulous hope in his chest.)
In the end, he doesn't chase whatever it was he'd meant to say. Instead, he dips his head forward to welcome Zhongli's fingers back into his mouth, letting go of Zhongli's wrist in order to trace one of the golden lines up his arm. If his fingers brush against the glaze lily mark, he doesn't seem to notice. He's too focused on bobbing his head and stroking Zhongli's fingers with his tongue, on trying to hold Zhongli's tantalizingly impassive gaze as he does.
It's a valiant effort on Childe's part, but it means he can't do anything when Zhongli reaches for his cock, either to help or to hinder. With his strength, he can at least arch up into the touch a little, trying to press forward for more--but that's about the most he can manage without unwinding himself from Zhongli.
Slowly, he lets his left leg begin drop, as if he plans to do just that--
--but come on, why would he be doing that when he could be a brat instead?
Between one shallow breath and the next, Childe shifts his weight, hooks his leg around Zhongli's ankle, and pulls, an attempt to sweep him off-balance and knock him down to the ground. He doesn't really expect it to work--they're pressed together too tightly, Zhongli will feel the tells in his movements--but he can't resist the urge to try. If Zhongli's going to spoil him and indulge his greed like this, then he's going to take full advantage of it for as long as he can.]
[ zhongli is humble, and was even in his godhood. he never indulged in his apparent good looks or used them as leverage; there were far more important things that needed his attention and other pleasures to indulge in: cuisines, operas, the vendors with their cargos of treasure, the rolling sea, the visiting lapis hordes settling on the rocks and simply taking in the view alongside him. not even in those instances where he shared his bed did he revel in the other's worship. if his appearance pleased them, that was enough for him.
to leave childe breathless and still in front of him, mouth parted open, eyes wide enough to finally catch a sliver of light—he can indulge in that, just this once.
his fingers push into childe's mouth with ease, teeth grazing again over his knuckle as childe manages to take the full length of it with enthusiasm. he gives him a show, running his fingers down the length of his forearm and knitting his brows together as he moves and zhongli watches. that gaze is too gratified, too furtive, as if his fingers and the hand pressed over his cock was all he needed.
childe lowers his leg too slowly. zhongli feels the tensing of muscles in childe's hip, waiting to release. the swell of childe's tongue around the length of his fingers briefly slows, and zhongli can only assume that his attention is elsewhere.
to save childe from having his dick torn off reflexively, zhongli immediately lets him go. his gold eyes narrow, now glowing in that unleashed archon energy, and he braces himself the instant childe hooks his leg around his ankle and suddenly pulls against his tendon. childe won't be surprised when he stands still and unshaken, with not even the slightest give in his ankle.
he won't admit to using a shred of his power to withstand that maneuver. his muscle might have given slightly if he hadn't. childe doesn't deserve that win. not after this. his gold eyes bore into that deep, dull blue, and he pulls his fingers from childe's mouth. he grasps childe's hip again, pushing his thumb to that aggressively shining soulmark, its color leaping to meet him. he suffuses it with his energy, intending for it to burn. ]
Tartaglia.
[ another low rumble. wet fingers or no, he twists the top of childe's hair in his fist and yanks it toward the wall, tilting his chin upward.
zhongli's piercing gaze never leaves him. his lips curl in a thin smile. he's amused. ]
It's like you to be stubborn, even after I've shown you the true form of Morax. Admittedly I'm unfamiliar with this feeling, but I'd like to rid you of that obstinacy.
[Childe: how can I show Zhongli that I'm having a great time and also that I think he's hot Childe: I know, I will try to knock him to the floor
Local man continues to underestimate what he's getting into, news at 11.
But Childe doesn't seem at all bothered by his failure--in fact, he's laughing with breathless delight, even as his voice cuts into a sharp noise at Zhongli's swift retaliation. Maybe it's the glow of Zhongli's gaze, or the moonlight from the window--but there's a sparkle of life in Childe's eyes that could almost be his own.]
If that were possible, Zhongli-xiansheng, [His words aren't quite steady with how quick and shallow his breathing is, and he swallows as he leans his head back against the wall, easing the pull of Zhongli's grip just a little. But his voice is rich with warmth and happiness, even as he instinctively curls against the pressure to his soulmark, nails digging into Zhongli's skin as he fights to keep steady.] then it would've happened already.
[Zhongli's hardly the first person to express such a sentiment--although he's certainly the first to do it under these circumstances. But Childe's confidence isn't baseless; if it were, he wouldn't be the youngest of the Harbingers, after all.]
But-- [He lets his other leg drop from Zhongli's waist with much less grace, but he doesn't leave space between them for long. Zhongli's grip on his hair is too tight for him to lower his head, so he blindly feels his way from Zhongli's arm to his hip, pulling him forward to encourage him to close the small gap between them. His other hand, still buried in Zhongli's hair, stays right where it is for now--a lifeline, of sorts, the only thing keeping him grounded against the searing pleasure radiating from his soulmark. If he tries to stand on his own right now, he's not sure his legs will actually hold him up, but he can't bring himself to be too embarrassed when it's Zhongli's fault.] --you're welcome to try.
[Everyone else had tried to beat it out of him, because that's simply how things work in the Fatui. Zhongli can try that too, if he wants. Zhongli can try anything he wants right now, honestly, and Childe will probably think it's the best idea he's ever heard.]
even after childe's feet meet the ground and he squares their hips against the wall, that delighted laughter rings in zhongli's ears. the clearest bell in a dark and endless cavern of memories. childe's fingertips burn crescents into his neck; zhongli disregards it. he hears but doesn't hear how childe provokes him despite his obvious weakness, enraptured by the elation and levity in that voice and less by the meaning behind his words.
zhongli had known many creatures of madness in his lifetime. the inevitability of corruption, erosion, the reaching and poisonous hands of exterminated gods, the thirst for blood and ruin simply for the sake of it—zhongli silently vowed to suppress it, cure it if he can. he lost so many to all of it.
for the first time, someone's laughter skated the edge of that madness and made it something bewitching. he had only seen it in brief glimpses, when childe broached the subject of battles or feats of strength. zhongli had never been able to tell if those eyes were lit from within. he liked to believe they were, and that they might light up for something else yet undiscovered.
tartaglia, grinning and breathless with eyes glinting only for him, is one of the most beautiful sights he's ever seen.
zhongli would lose him too. he decides it was better to have him while he was still here to take and willing to give.
he releases childe's hair and instead grasps childe's chin in his hand, his first finger and thumb following the curve of his jaw. zhongli cants his head and seals childe's mouth with his own, fervent and immediate, groaning softly. his tongue pries between his lips and pushes inside, greedy and devouring as if to take that laughter for himself.
want scrapes inside of his throat. for once, it isn't about asserting himself or silencing childe. the kiss was irresistible, borne out of an ache and longing that trailed after childe every time he left liyue harbor. since their first meeting, he realizes. all of it poured forth like a pot spilled over. zhongli had been unacquainted with feelings of love, mistook them for deep feelings of comradery, for so long. he hadn't recognized it until now. (fellas is it gay to love your bro?)
zhongli grasps tightly around childe's arm, caught around a bicep hard with muscle and laden with scars. his fingers were a break in the string of lichtenberg scars running from wrist to shoulder to neck. ]
The bed. [ he murmurs to his lips. he turns his head and pulls them towards it, unyielding unless childe outwardly protests, or if those shaky legs can still barely hold him. zhongli would pick him up and throw him there if he had to. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
zhongli is silent, watching him. he swallows once before childe's fingers find his skin, his parted lips coming closed. he raises his chin, and again, he feels that small current under his skin, swirling upward to meet where childe's thumb presses to his pulse. it's less startling now than before, but it's a reminder nonetheless: zhongli is as much a part of this as childe, just as subject to his weaknesses.
he doesn't reach to peel childe's fingers from around his neck. without taking his eyes from childe's, he tips his head away from where his thumb presses down, baring his neck as if it's a show of complacency. it dares him to squeeze at his throat, crush his windpipe, sever a vein—and knows that he would never do such a thing. not to him. not like this, anyway.
zhongli reaffirms his hold over childe's hip, as if holding him steady. he gives into his impulse and gently presses his thumb to childe's mark, feeling the elemental energy rushing to meet him. it's almost reassuring, though zhongli hardly needs any more of that.
with his free hand, zhongli smooths his fingers over childe's jaw and over the edge of his cheek, his fingertips combed into that mess of orange hair. he should have taken off his gloves while he still could.
despite the dangerous circumstances, the way he looks at childe could almost be described as tender. ]
Childe. [ he hesitates a moment, then corrects himself: ] Tartaglia. I've waited for you long enough.
[ zhongli's fingers sink into childe's hair, and, if childe allows, zhongli draws him forward to meet his kiss. ]
no subject
It wasn't always this way. Once, he'd been quiet, shy, a boy of daydreams and fairytales. But that boy had died ten years ago, at the bottom of a cavern lit by sickly purple runes and artificial starlight. He tries, around his siblings, to cobble together enough shreds of "Ajax" to shield them from reality, but in truth, that hasn't been him for a decade. Sometimes, he doubts it was ever truly him in the first place--that the potential for Tartaglia always lurked deep in his heart, and that the Abyss simply broke apart the shell that encased it.
Whatever the case, the fact remains that here and now, Zhongli has chosen to communicate with him in the language he speaks best. He does more than indulge Childe's audacity--he bares his throat, offering a level of vulnerability, of trust, that Childe hasn't done anything to deserve.
It would be so easy to tighten his grip. To tap into his Vision, drive five small, watery blades into delicate skin, to stain his white gloves red. It almost certainly wouldn't kill Zhongli, and Childe would never attack him like this anyway, even if his petulant grudge had been truly hateful--but he could.
It's enough to make his own breath catch in his throat. Enough to rip through all the words they've exchanged, freeing him from his Harbinger-honed reflex of searching for deception, hidden traps or misdirections. It's even enough to assuage his other, more personal doubts... almost. He's not naive enough, not able to trust enough, to let one meaningful gesture settle every bit of conflict that's been roused in his heart. But it does mean that he doesn't jerk away when Zhongli tightens his hold on him, or when he reaches out. It means he holds perfectly still, his eyes finally moving back up to search Zhongli's, meeting that tenderness with the sort of wonder that comes with pondering the unbelievable, like the vastness of the universe or the depths of the sea. The affection of a god.
In this moment, he looks very mortal.
The sound of his name--and it is his name now, has been for years--sends a shudder pulsing through him, an involuntary and unfamiliar thing. And to think he'd been so confident about how this evening would go. Maybe it'll be funny in the future.
He doesn't miss the fact that Zhongli draws him in, instead of moving himself forward--but neither does it escape him that Zhongli's using a light touch. The opening strike is Zhongli's, but Childe could block it, if he wanted to.
He doesn't want to. He's still unsure about a lot of things, but not about that.
Whether or not Zhongli's kiss is soft, Childe meets him with demanding fervor. His hand drops from Zhongli's neck to grab his collar instead, the other moving to grip Zhongli's arm, as if to stop him from going too far, should he pull away. It is as much a threat as it is a confession, the very embodiment of the way Childe behaves around him. A bold grab for Zhongli's attention, for--everything Zhongli has to give, really.
It drives him crazy to know that Zhongli won't meet him at full strength in battle. This is a kiss that says I won't let you hold back here, too.
He is so, so bad about wanting things. It's only going to get worse, if he keeps being allowed to have them.
Also, they are definitely going to get caught making out in this hallway.]
no subject
since his abdication, zhongli has never missed the awe that came with being the geo archon. the duties he performed for the good of the human race were just that: the obligation allotted to the one with the most power. he did only what he felt he should do as their sole protector. the reverence of his people was a tool for keeping the peace, but the awe and wonder—morax neither wanted it nor sought it out. he would humbly accept his peoples' gratitude yet turn away from the statues and lacquered screens made in his likeness. he was a guardian, a general—not a heavenly being to be worshipped.
when childe stares up at him with those shining and awestruck eyes, infinitely blue, that streak of humility is broken. he wants that wondrous look, over and over.
whatever the intent of zhongli's kiss had been, it's lost in the way that childe surges forward and crushes his mouth against his. it's hard enough to ache, teeth pushing against teeth, as if the bindings that held him finally came loose. he tastes dessert, the wine, the faint hint of water. he feels childe's intent in how the crease of his collar pushes and burns into his skin, the sear of childe's fingers tightly pulling his arm. all of this, it says, is only for him. zhongli is briefly pulled in under the great wave of him, ensnaring and hungry.
then zhongli rises to meet him, as if childe had broken past some unspoken boundary. his desire spills open like blood from a freshly sliced wound. he roughly cranes his neck forward, his mouth opening and closing as he draws a sharp breath in. the light sway of the ship, its passengers, and the moon outside are barely thoughts in his mind. all of everything is tartaglia, lithe and warm against him, forcing his attention as if he could think of anyone else.
his fingers twist in the hair at the back of childe's head, holding him in place. the hand at his hip comes away, and instead he hooks his arm around his waist, splaying his palm against the curve of his back, bent like the string of a bow.
his mouth opens again, his breath hot, and he runs the crowns of his teeth over childe's lower lip. he yanks his hair downward to bare his throat, and then he closes his mouth over the base of it, tempted to bite and suck but ultimately deciding against it.
his lips drag on his skin as he leans over childe's shoulder. he murmurs to his ear in a low rumble: ]
Not here.
[ like he's not part of the problem. all of this to say: however much childe wanted him, zhongli felt the same in equal measure, if not more. there are doors in this hallway. one of them has to be open.
somewhere on the deck outside, ningguang unknowingly loses a bet. it's what she gets for assuming that zhongli is a better judge of character. ]
no subject
But there's truly such a difference between knowing and experiencing. Childe's well aware of that, of course, just like any warrior worth their salt would be. But when it comes to intimacy--well, no. When it comes to Zhongli, specifically, it's different.
Long before he'd known Zhongli's truly identity, he'd guessed at the strength hidden behind Zhongli's scholarly demeanor. Childe might be easy to manipulate, but he's not stupid; Zhongli could act as gentlemanly as he wanted, but Childe had recognized the type of warrior that lay underneath. Childe likes to burst onto the battlefield like a flash flood. Zhongli is the type to stroll in like the battle's already been won.
If he'd had to guess how Zhongli would kiss (which is not something he's ever wondered about, definitely, but if it were), he would've wagered it would be the same. Steady, grounding, a solid anchor in a storm. Thousands of years of patience and confidence, unyielding to even the fiercest onslaught.
Never would he have thought that Zhongli would respond to him in kind. It would be overwhelming if it weren't so utterly delightful, and Childe thrives under the attention. He throws himself against the sharp edges of desire all the time, with every fierce battle he seeks. Like hell he'll shy away from it now.
He doesn't know how to handle the idea of Zhongli treating him gently, like one of his countless hoarded treasures. He might very well fall apart.
Not that he isn't halfway there anyway, with the cut of Zhongli's teeth, the strength in his grip. He tenses for a moment when Zhongli pulls his hair, tempted to resist just for the sake of being defiant--but it seems stupid to be a brat about something he wants, and besides, Zhongli's mouth is very persuasive. Zhongli pulls away before he has the chance to lean into it, though, and he shudders again at the tone of Zhongli's voice before he even has a chance to process his words.
There's a myriad of half-baked sentiments on his tongue as he tries to catch his breath, heart racing. Since when has this been an option? and "inexperienced" my ass you damn liar and no really, did you literally just decide this five minutes ago or what--but all he actually manages to get out is a string of Snezhnayan curses, which he cuts off on his own by ducking his head, sinking his teeth into the mark on Zhongli's neck.
Zhongli resisted temptation. Childe has no such reservations.]
If you're fucking with me, [he says finally, rough and breathless against Zhongli's skin,] I'll never forgive you.
[It's more vulnerability than he'd like to show--more than he'd even realized he had left, honestly. But this is the only way he knows how to show trust: by revealing, little by little, how guarded and wary he actually is.]
you can assume zhongli takes him to another room idk this is too long and i rewrote it a bunch
pain bursts where childe sinks his teeth into his skin. zhongli shuts his eyes and breathes in as he withstands the bolt of pain in his neck. it isn't overwhelming at all, only a small shock of something he hasn't felt in an age.
the moment childe draws away, zhongli's blood rushes to meet the red ring on his neck. childe will see how brightly the riptide sigil glows beneath his lips; it shimmers where he shapes his words, quietly willing for him to return. if there was any hope that they would return to the event outside, that bite has snuffed it out completely.
childe isn't a real threat. zhongli has felt unimaginable pain, and each of childe's attempts to grab his attention is a grain of sand on an ocean floor. but childe tries anyway, slipping challenges into casual conversation, smiling at him with shining canines, waiting for the moment when the late two archon finally relents. even now, he kisses him hard enough to hurt, bites his neck and snarls at him, scrabbles for all he has to give.
this ferocity, too, is something that zhongli loves. it's a twisted want borne out of an insatiable and admirable drive for strength, even if teetered on the edge of lunacy. it's want all the same.
zhongli's desire flares and flickers with childe's breathless mutter. the bite behind his words is lost in their meaning: that childe's hidden hopes were coming to fruition, and he wants to trust that zhongli wouldn't stop.
he affects childe that deeply. he almost feels selfish for indulging in that truth.
he rests his cheek on childe's hair, muttering again to his ear: ]
You think I'd be so cruel?
[ zhongli japes and teases, but only to a certain extent. in contrast, his actions are carefully measured, clear in their intentions, solid as stone. (still, he doesn't explicitly say no. it's almost purposely provoking.)
he lifts his head to see the slope of childe's neck disappearing into his open collar. he leans down and noses past it; he presses a slow kiss to that pale skin, his tongue gently skimming the surface. he tastes the saltwater from earlier in the evening, when childe sat on the ship's banister and lifted his head, smiling at the breeze and sea-spray as if it welcomed him home.
zhongli runs his fingers upward into that nest of orange hair again, this time to simply hold childe against him. it isn't lost on him that this is the closest they've ever been. childe might feel the dull beating of his old heart against his.
he briefly keeps his mouth pressed to his neck, collecting his next words. when he finds them, he (forcibly) draws away to stand straight, his hands falling to childe's waist and the side of his neck. he tips his head forward and regards childe with his golden gaze, searching between his eyes. ]
We should go somewhere without interruptions. [ he traces his thumb over the edge of childe's jaw. it would be so easy to bring childe against the wall behind him and kiss him again, but he has more fortitude than that. he drops his hand down to grasp childe's forearm. ] Follow me.
LMKSJDGHKH both of us watching our tags spiral out of control
Truthfully, he doesn't think Zhongli would toy with him like this. Especially not now that Childe's shown his hand. (All that earlier awkwardness probably makes a lot more sense now, doesn't it, Zhongli?) But life has taught him not to assume. He'd been so convinced Zhongli was wrong about the meaning of these marks--that doubt hadn't come from nowhere, and it hasn't disappeared so easily.
...But he wants to trust. No matter how bad of an idea it is, he can't think of anything he wants more in this moment. And even if it is the wrong choice, it might just be worth it, purely for the taste of Zhongli's skin on his tongue.
It's so, so difficult to try and concentrate anyway. He always hates untangling plots and schemes, would much rather lose himself in the physicality of battle. There's no way he's going to bother trying to think too hard when Zhongli's mouth is hot and damp, sending electric sparks up his nerves that make his fingers flex. When he's heady with the power of drawing reactions from Zhongli, too, the potential to rile him up finally dangling within his reach.
It can't be a stupid decision if it's one you're making knowingly, right? Right.
He doesn't actually answer the question, which is, perhaps, an answer in and of itself. He doesn't fight Zhongli's hold, either, even though he doesn't relax into it--it's not wariness, just a keyed up restless energy. His eyes never have any light in them, but when he meets Zhongli's gaze, they're even darker than usual. He wants so badly to drag him back into another kiss, to catch Zhongli's thumb with his teeth, to push in every way he can until Zhongli snaps, just to see what happens when he does.
Instead, he lifts a hand to Zhongli's face, brushing his thumb along the sharp edge of his eyeliner. When he pulls away, there's a smudge of red on his glove.]
Yeah, [He says, instead of but consider: what if we stay right here and just kill anyone who opens the door] alright.
[He can't remember the last time he took someone to bed, but it doesn't matter. Zhongli ruined him for anyone else long before tonight.
...At least, that's what he's assuming is happening here. What happened to talking, Childe? No? Okay.
Because I think it's funny, I'm making the executive decision that there are people in the room of whatever door they open first. Zhongli, a somewhat rational person who cares about his reputation, would probably just say "excuse me" and try another room. Childe, on the other hand, solves this problem very quickly by throwing a Hydro dagger at them--it sails neatly past them and embeds itself in the wall directly above their heads. (There was no risk of it actually hitting them, but they don't need to know that.)
In his best Harbinger voice, cold and deadly:]
Out.
1/2 HONESTLY
this one is entirely new. the greed in them is nearly palpable, and it's focused entirely on him—a warning to anyone else who might approach. he still meets their gaze unflinchingly, lost in that blue as much as before, knowing that this look is his alone—hopefully.
he holds that gaze even as childe's takes his cheek into his palm and presses his thumb to the soft edge of his eye. he blinks only once as it swipes and smudges his makeup. he makes no move to correct it.
it's regrettable now, how he hadn't given in sooner to the idea that childe had feelings for him. he would have enjoyed provoking him throughout the evening to his chagrin until the pieces were finally put together. there's some solace in the idea that if the night continues on well enough, there may be future opportunities to make up for it. ]
2/2
in comes childe before zhongli's knuckles even reach the hardwood. zhongli catches the doorknob before it closes on him, just in time to see that hydro dagger shoot in the air and hit the wall of the room with a comically loud twang, scaring the shit out of its occupants. they stay where they are, crowded and stunned back against the wall, shaking when childe makes his command.
two of the women wail at different octaves. one man begs not to be killed, he has four daughters and a dog. zhongli lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. ]
Please excuse us.
[ he says while the terrified gaggle of people file out like their lives depend on it (and it does), like an apology will do anything at all. ningguang will be asking the northland bank for reparations for the new dent in the wall. the only bright side of this is that they probably paid no attention to the glowing mark on zhongli's neck or the telling smudged eyeliner.
once the fiasco ends, he releases his nose and comes inside. the door falls closed behind him. he looks at childe flatly. ]
There are plenty of other rooms.
no subject
Childe is not stupid, so he does lock the door. But then he grins at Zhongli, utterly unrepentant. The Hydro dagger vanishes with a splash, leaving nothing but the damaged wall behind.]
Then I'm sure our friends will have no trouble picking up where they left off. [CHILDE.]
1/2
I'm certain they'll be asking if there are lifeboats on the ship. A lock may not be enough if someone with a Vision comes looking for whoever caused this.
[ pragmatic as ever. they're probably going to name zhongli in this too, as an accomplice. why. ]
2/2
he walks forward until he meets childe toe-to-toe where he stands. ]
It doesn't matter.
[ he reaches again for his waist with both hands, because finally he's able to touch him and pull him close without remorse. finally. childe is as thin and toned as he might have guessed, his muscle taut under his fingers. he can appreciate it now, without the thought in the back of his mind that anyone might come in and spoil it all.
he leans forward until his nose sidled beside childe's. he resists the indelible urge to kiss him breathless. it's unlike him. ]
Do you see now? Why I had no concerns?
no subject
We'll be fine.
[And even if they're not, there's the potential for a fight, so. Win/win as far as he's concerned.
Far more important is the way Zhongli reaches out for him--Childe goes willingly, sliding his hands under the jacket of Zhongli's suit. It's difficult not to hesitate or get a little overwhelmed by this newfound freedom that's somehow, apparently, been his all along. But he doesn't want to get caught up in all of that when he could focus on how close Zhongli is, instead.
He's decided to trust. If it's the wrong choice, he'll deal with it when the time comes.
Still, his expression shifts from playful audacity into something softer--still heated, but less wild than before. As if sensing the way Zhongli's holding himself back, Childe nudges him gently, adjusting until he can lean in and kiss him instead, just once. A taunt, maybe, without the edge.]
...You never said anything. [Granted, Childe didn't either, but he'd had a mission to focus on. He had good reasons for being oblivious. Maybe.] I didn't think you cared about [A pause.] romance.
[Is that what this is? It doesn't feel like the right word, but--"soulmates" is too new of a concept, too big for him to think about right this second. And saying it never occurred to me that you might want me as anything more than an amusing mortal friend because you didn't give me your gnosis and you won't fight me properly just sounds pathetic, so. "Romance" it is.
Also he literally said Zhongli couldn't possibly have no relationship experience, like, an hour ago but listen. That's different.]
no subject
while the feeling of hands on his skin may not be new, it's been a long time since he's felt it. he's already warm beneath his jacket; childe's hands are cooler, the gloves pressing past his shirt and relieving his skin. he should take this jacket off—and he hoped to, in time.
this gaze is something new too. zhongli's expression softens with it, abandoning all traces of his exasperation.
the kiss is almost sweet. zhongli obliges the knock of their noses, and before he takes it as a sign to press forward, childe finds him first. zhongli responds in kind, his eyes slipping closed as he revels in the feeling. his hands slide up childe's back and pull him closer.
zhongli gently chases his lips as the kiss comes to a close, but he draws back to stand tall a moment later. so childe could be tender too, even if he still looks somewhat insatiable. he lowers his eyes between them as he considers his answer. (his eyes also skirt the dip of childe's collarbone, the part of his neck where he kissed. and he could kiss it again.) ]
I'd say your assessment was mostly correct. I wasn't actively seeking out romantic relationships for several reasons, but mostly because my interests lie elsewhere.
[ he can get into those, but that might put a damper on the situation. it's a world of hurt to be an immortal who falls in love with a human and reckons with the fact that they are slowly dying with every passing second. zhongli had enough trouble making peace with the idea that childe may die sooner than most, without any warning or notice.
ANYWAY. he prefers not to bring it up. ]
...Over time, though I was unaware of it, those interests began to include you. I looked forward to your visits. I admired your strength and tenacity but also your cunning and wit. Our conversations were engaging. I felt at peace when we spoke.
[ he raises his eyes back to childe's. this part, he's been thinking about for a little while. he isn't sure how childe will react. ]
I should have already known my feelings when you went to Inazuma.
[ he turns his head aside and brings his fist to his mouth, quickly clearing his throat. don't blush. whatever you do. ]
I... missed having you by my side. I've had thousands of years to hone my patience. It's not often that I feel this way about anyone.
no subject
It's tempting to bypass all of that and just slide his hands under Zhongli's shirt to get at his skin, but... no, not while he's still wearing his gloves. Besides, he does actually want to listen to what Zhongli's saying, even if it makes his face heat up all over again. At least Zhongli won't be alone in his embarrassment if he does end up blushing. Gods.]
...You don't have to charm me, Zhongli. I'm not going anywhere. [But it's just a reflexive deflection, not true discomfort. No one's ever spoken of him this way; he doesn't know what to do with it.
Since he left for Inazuma, huh... but Zhongli says "should have", which means he hadn't known. That makes sense--Childe assumes he would've refused to go along with his "lovers" ruse if he'd already been aware. Maybe if Childe hadn't been so caught up in his own realization crisis, he would've noticed, though he probably wouldn't have said anything about it if he had.
He huffs out a quiet laugh, letting his head fall back.]
So what I'm hearing is, we're both idiots.
[Somewhere in the void, Guizhong is probably thinking "yep, that's about right."]
no subject
as he does all of this, he takes in the deep red plumes across childe's cheeks. it's endearing, even from someone who had shot off a dagger at an innocent group of people earlier. zhongli can't help reaching out to hold his face again, letting his palm settle over hot skin. he runs his thumb over his cheekbone, watching the red running behind it.
he can't help giving a thin and easy smile at what he says. he lets his eyes fall closed. (childe calls him "zhongli" again, and the sound of it rolls an imperceptible shudder down his body. but something is missing...) ]
I wouldn't have let you go regardless. I was only speaking honestly.
[ the fact that it embarrassed childe is a bonus.
childe leans his head back to laugh, and zhongli's fingers ease down to the back of his neck as he watches, thinking that he's beautiful.
his smile grows wider and gives his own little huff of a laugh. thanks, guizhong. ]
I'm afraid so.
[ stupid idiots who could have gotten what they wanted ages ago, if they weren't gay and dumb.
irresistibly, he cants his head and presses another kiss to childe's neck, just above his exposed adam's apple. childe's earring gently brushes his forehead, cold and light. his tongue slips out from between his lips, and when he kisses that patch of skin again, he runs his teeth over that patch of skin.
his hands wander, one smoothing over his hip and setting his mark ablaze again with golden light. the other hand searches under childe's shirt, sliding up his back and over his side, tracing his thin figure.
zhongli isn't wearing his gloves this time. he takes in the softness and warmth of childe's skin, every texture, every scar. every nerve fires to feel the spread of childe's skin, taut with muscle, smooth to the touch.
zhongli's own body is riddled with scars as well, down to his fingers. a particularly large one, among many others, trails from the back of his hand and disappears into his sleeve. his hands are calloused where the length of his polearm would drag and pull on his palm.
his thumb grazes and presses over his nipple. zhongli swallows and tastes more salt. beautiful, he thinks again, and he opens his eyes. ]
Call me what you like. [ he murmurs and kisses beneath his chin, smiling. ] I'm more fond of that nickname than I realized.
no subject
He doesn't want to stop touching, but Zhongli's bare hands are on his skin, brushing over his smaller scars, catching on the edge of the largest one where it arcs across his chest. It suddenly feels vitally important to keep up before he gets too distracted.
He leans back just enough to pull his own gloves off, shoving them into the pocket of his pants. If Zhongli chances a look, he'll see the way Lichtenberg figures crawl up his fingers and spread across the backs of his pale hands--but Childe doesn't waste time once they're off, immediately reaching for Zhongli's shirt. He debates trying to slice the buttons off for about five seconds, but ultimately decides against it. (Mostly because he suspects Zhongli would be fast enough to stop him from succeeding. Damn.)
Still, he tries to work quickly. Partly driven by his own impatient desire, but mostly because it's already horribly tempting to sink into the attention, and it doesn't take a genius to know it's only going to get worse. Zhongli's mouth is so warm, and it's impossible not to lean into that hint of teeth; a goad, perhaps, blunted into encouragement by his eagerness.
Imagine having to kiss Zhongli to sell an act he'd thought earlier. Now, the idea of walking out of here without proof of Zhongli's claim is unacceptable. Oh how quickly the winds change.]
Xiansheng. [It's hard to tell whether he's responding to Zhongli's words, or if it's simple habit, a thoughtless reaction to the press of Zhongli's fingers against his soulmark. He doesn't bother with the last few buttons of Zhongli's shirt, cool, nimble fingers dipping past the fabric and finally, finally making contact. Funny how he hadn't realized he'd wanted this, when it feels like he's waited centuries for it.
Immediately, he zeroes in on the scars he feels, mapping them out just like Zhongli's doing to him. His nails are too short to do any real damage, or he'd try to leave new ones. More's the pity.
He draws in a harsh breath, turning his head to try and catch Zhongli's mouth in a kiss again.] Don't be gentle.
this is so long excuse me...
they were lucky enough that childe unfastened the thing rather pull or slice it off too. the northland bank paid for it, after all, and he still had a shirt to wear out.
he catches a view of those scars on the backs of his hands. they curl like red, spoked ferns or a skeletal tree, its branches reaching just past his knuckles. they would just barely be hidden underneath his half-gloves. he creases his brow, recognizing these scars for what they are and where they might have come from. he should have realized, but childe has never taken off those gloves in front of him before—
the thought falls away when childe calls for him. zhongli reflexively meets his gaze again, his own half-lidded and nearly luminescent as his energy siphons into that brand on his hip. xiansheng. "zhongli" was a name to be shared with everyone, but "xiansheng" was meant only for childe, a little secret between them. this time childe is saying it like never before, and it shudders through his body.
cool hands slip beneath his shirt and search greedily over his chest. zhongli finishes opening the last few buttons on his chest, and afterwards he begins work on finally unbuttoning childe's. zhongli wears several millennia's worth of scars. some are incredibly large: one wraps around one side of his ribs and ends at his shoulderblade; another cuts the side of his stomach, streaking down to his hip. some are small slices of white like long papercuts, the skin gently raised. zhongli could name the origin of each one on his body.
childe sets his skin ablaze under his bare fingers. it's been so long since he's been touched, and never with this much hunger. never with childe.
he steals his kiss and zhongli turns to meet it, attempting to match his eagerness. when it breaks, he keeps their lips kept just centimeters away, his eyes closed as he hears their labored breaths between them. it would be so easy to kiss him again.
like his name, that fervent requests wakes something in him. his yellow eyes come open again, this time with heavy eyelids and parted lips. his hands pause after grasping the plackets of childe's shirt, having undone the last buttons. for zhongli to let loose a want he subconsciously had for him, to assert his selfishness when he had always worn a mild and collected countenance—it may be an opportunity for childe to meet the beast lying dormant within him. of course this is what childe wants: a vague echo of a fight, or maybe even some proof that zhongli could viciously want him back. (and he does.)
he believed he neatly stowed away much of his want after his outburst in the hallway. with childe's words, that resolve begins to break. his anticipation mounts faster than he believed it could. his eyes almost glint. ]
If that is what you want. I won't be.
[ the evening had been full of minor touches and gestures, gazes left unanswered, empty and embarrassed words. this was the moment to make up for it all. he ached to touch him, but most surprisingly, he wanted childe to be weak to him. he'll give him what he's asking for.
zhongli cranes his neck and kisses him sharply enough to hurt. he walks forward, still holding childe's plackets, and boxes him against the wall behind him. he opens childe's shirt and peels it from his shoulders, and at the same time he deepens their fiery kiss and lathes his tongue over the seam of childe's mouth. their chests are flush together, rising and falling with their labored breaths. that mark on childe's waist still glows brightly, pressed against zhongli's hip.
zhongli raises his thigh and pushes it between childe's legs, trapping him where he stands. he grasps at his hair and yanks it again, pulling his ear towards his shoulder. he murmurs again to his skin, his breath hot: ]
Is this what you asked for, Tartaglia?
LMFSDKJHG in this house we trade novels
He's left his mark on Zhongli, even if it was unintentional, and it satisfies something deep within him to know it. But it's not the same. He wants to draw blood. He wants to leave his own scar.
He really needs to stop earning the favor of archons. He's getting spoiled.
Maybe later, he'll make some quip about how he deserves it, what with how much money he's spent on Zhongli's whims. For now, though, he just drinks in the look on Zhongli's face, immediately honing in on that crack in Zhongli's resolve. It makes his own mouth curve up into a grin, audacious and challenging. A shark scenting blood in the water.
Zhongli's absolutely right in his assumptions. He wants Zhongli to want him. He wants to take everything Zhongli gives him, and anything he doesn't. He wants to look into Zhongli's eyes and see even a fraction of the all-consuming desire that's burning Childe up from the inside.
One simple request, and they're halfway there already.
Foolishly, inexplicably, he hadn't expected Zhongli to agree so easily. It means Zhongli has the advantage, even though Childe's the one that made the request. Even so, Childe rises to meet him, lips parting on a moan as his back hits the wall. He digs his fingers into Zhongli's shoulder and buries the other hand in his hair, knocking it out of its neat coiffure. He lets Zhongli taste him, making sure to catch Zhongli's lower lip in his teeth as he does.
With his shirt off, it's easy to see all the scars spread over his skin. Traces of lightning burns scattered up his arms, not unlike the ones on his hands--an arrowhead wound below his ribs here, a stab wound there, above the hip opposite his soulmark. The scar across his chest is clearly one of the oldest, but huge, the sort of injury that would've taken a miracle to survive. If Zhongli really concentrated, he could probably feel the barest remnants of Abyssal taint beneath it.
There are fresher bruises, too, a few days old. Nothing serious, but someone clearly went out and had a fight date on his way here. Wow. Infidelity. (no)
Plenty more scars are scattered over his back, too. Altogether, the image they make is clear: this is the body of a man who wields himself like a weapon. There's another layer to Childe's request, probably one that's easy to deduce from the sight of him: the simple human desire to chase as much sensation as possible. Childe's done a number on his nerves over the years. It's a wonder he still feels anything at all.
Clearly he does, though. If he didn't, he probably wouldn't press his body so firmly against Zhongli's, wouldn't drag in breath through his teeth, hissing like an untamed animal. The soulmark burns where they touch, and for a wild moment, Childe wonders if it's going to brand him permanently. He'd never live it down, but it's not an unpleasant thought.
Is this what you asked for? Zhongli says, and it is, more than he knows how to convey in words. He doesn't even consider answering for a minute, too caught up in dragging his hips over Zhongli's thigh. He could probably stay just like this, with Zhongli's voice low and commanding in his ear, and be satisfied.
But Childe wouldn't be himself if he settled, even for something he's clearly enjoying. It's a subtle shift in demeanor, but even if Zhongli can't see his face, he can probably sense the exact moment Childe decides he wants to be provocative.]
That's it, old man? [Somehow, he manages that playful lilt, even through his rapid, shallow breaths. He pushes impossibly closer, worming one hand between them to resume his exploration of Zhongli's scars. The other drops from his hair back to the riptide mark, and he presses the heel of his palm against it as he grinds against Zhongli's thigh again. Is he trying to get a reaction, or is he just taking his own pleasure? Yes.]
YEAH.... YUP
that moan is abrupt and arresting, short enough to leave him wanting—a successful bait on childe's part. pain pricks where childe's nails bite into his skin, as innocuous as insect bites. the tie of his hair comes undone and slowly slips to the ground among their scattered clothes. strands of neat, brown hair fan behind and bend over his shoulders as he murmurs to childe's ear.
the intimidating, innumerable scars are a mosaic between their bodies. the magnitude of childe's scars is unsurprising given his appetite for combat, but zhongli couldn't have predicted the immense gash across his chest. it came into view as zhongli stripped him, his eyes briefly flickering wide before they share their hungry kiss. he traces the length of it with his fingers, brushing the scar tissue gathered at the edges. abyssal energy prickles under his fingertips like the sting of a beadlet anemone, harmless as it harpoons into his skin.
even after this life-threatening wound, childe still chases his adrenaline highs, feeding the infection of abyssal energy while it eats at his life. the tragic truth is that foul legacy is as much a part of childe as anything else; zhongli would be foolish to deny it. there's a possibility that a sliver of it is nestled in the mark on zhongli's neck.
all thoughts slip out of view as childe arches into him, rutting his hips as if it were irresistible, leaving no sound but his labored breaths and the rhythmic shift of fabric. more important than anything was the fact that childe wanted him madly—enough to crush their mouths together with their first kiss, bite into his neck, demand that he be torn into. the hairline crack in zhongli's resolve begins to part. he can't look away.
childe provokes him, touches him, digs his palm against that mark as if to sear it into his skin. zhongli sucks in a shaky breath, feeling the mark swirl and burn against his skin, almost electric. childe is hard and straining against his thigh, and as he moves, his leg grazes over zhongli's growing erection. childe wants the upper hand.
even then, zhongli can see through that guise of composure, betrayed by his erratic breaths and reckless hips. he knows childe too well not to. that burning pain reaches its threshold, and as zhongli learns to bear it, he offers that knowing smile that says he knows childe's secret. without looking, he reaches down and quickly unfurls childe's belt from its buckle. he kisses him again. ]
It feels as though you may not need much more.
[ zhongli runs a curled finger down the length of childe's erection. before, childe considered how it would feel to be collected and possessed and hoarded in a dragon's nest of treasures. that dragon's instinct was seeping through the cracks. zhongli wants to stake his claim; he would draw the words he wants most from that snide and smiling mouth—ones that tell him tartaglia is his.
when that belt is pulled and dropped away, zhongli slides both of this thighs between childe's and grasps at his hips. he holds childe like he's weightless, lifting him and dragging him against that wall as he shoves their hips together. pleasure jolts between his legs, and he stifles his groan against childe's mouth.
he licks past lips and teeth and pushes their tongues together, liquid hot and unforgiving. he raises his hand and closes it over childe's throat, his thumb and first finger holding his jaw in place. he yanks childe's face aside and bites with a vice grip on the side of his neck.
he should have more decorum. he normally does. isn't it fair and just, though, that if zhongli wears the riptide mark on his neck, childe should wear something on his own?
he sucks hard, rolling his hips, his cock aching and hot as it runs against childe's. he doesn't notice the dark hue creeping up his fingertips, revealing a circuitry of gold over a canvas of deep brown. it's faint, but as that vicious need rears its head, those colors would undoubtedly darken and spread. ]
no subject
[It's hard to say whether or not his indignant protest would've had any real heat behind it, with the way his voice gets lost in Zhongli's mouth. (But really, it's a good thing--it muffles the moan that would've cut his voice off anyway, even if Zhongli will still be able to feel it.)
He knows how strong Zhongli is, of course. When he'd first been assigned to Liyue, he'd torn through every bit of information he could get his hands on about the true extent of Rex Lapis's power. He's daydreamed about fighting Zhongli far too much to be unaware.
And yet.
There's something about the way Zhongli moves him around, lifting him like it's nothing--something about the way Zhongli can touch his scars so gently one minute, then grind so filthily against him the next, that makes his head spin and his blood sing.
He does want the upper hand, Zhongli's right about that. And everything Zhongli is doing is only making him want it even more--rousing that belligerent spirit, the part of him that never lets him back down from pushing his limits.
His time in Inazuma did him good; he's stronger than he's ever been. But Zhongli always makes him feel so dangerously weak. He revels in it, he can't stand it--conflict twists and swells inside him, even as he coaxes Zhongli's tongue into his mouth, or sinks his teeth into Zhongli's lower lip.
It's no wonder he's obsessed with Zhongli's attention. He thrives in turmoil--even his own, apparently. What's one more contradiction to stitch into his identity?
Zhongli forces his head to the side, sinks his teeth in like a viper, and Childe tells himself that he permits it. He pretends it's intentional submission to save his own sanity, because otherwise he'd have to kick up a huge fuss, and he's too busy for that. Hooking his legs around Zhongli's waist and keeping himself upright through the strength of his core, unwilling to let himself lean back and let the wall support him, no matter how Zhongli might crush him against it. A small act of unconscious defiance, simply because it's in his blood. It doesn't stop Zhongli from drawing another moan out of him, low and rich with pleasure-pain, but Childe doesn't care about being heard. If it incenses Zhongli further? Even better.
He'd targeted that mark on Zhongli's neck on purpose, but his hand moves from it, almost of its own accord, to the base of Zhongli's neck, fingers curling into soft hair. His other hand started a path downward as soon as Zhongli got to work on his belt, but he's been hovering around the edge Zhongli's pants--debating whether to give in to impatience and deal with the awkward angle, or to speak up, to tell Zhongli he wants to touch and taste and--ah, well, that's probably the best they can manage out at sea, isn't it. Damn.
He's just made up his mind, starting to dip slender fingers past the waistband of Zhongli's trousers, testing to see how far he can get without undoing them. But then his eyes catch on Zhongli's hand, and he pauses, brow furrowing.
Is this part of the soulmark, too? Childe's own hands look totally normal, but that doesn't mean anything when their marks are in different places.
It takes him a second to try and catch his breath, but then he tugs on Zhongli's hair--once to get his attention, but then again, just because he can. He's reluctant to rouse him from his singleminded devotion to leaving a mark the size of Liyue on Childe's neck, but he should probably point it out, just in case, right? He can focus for a minute. Probably.]
Ah--xiansheng-- [His voice hitches as Zhongli's cock catches his just right, sending pleasure lancing through him.
On second thought, maybe he doesn't need to say anything. Instead, he withdraws his hand from Zhongli's pants, reaching instead for Zhongli's hand. He pries it off of his thigh and pulls it up to his lips instead, closing his mouth around Zhongli's index finger and curling his tongue around it with a wickedly pleased hum.
Good job staying focused, Childe.]
no subject
it's almost an unconscious punishment. stubborn as always. zhongli holds his composure as childe moans, deep and unbridled, flashing pleasure down zhongli's body. he is incensed by it all, to some degree. there is an appeal to breaking down that haughtiness and arrogance, if he could ever manage it.
when he closes his lips over the fresh bruise on childe's neck, he feels that warm and wet swirl on his finger, pushing against the roof of childe's mouth as he groans. zhongli inwardly shudders at the sensation, drawing back to see exactly what's happening—
ah. there's a subtle raising of brows, but zhongli seems to instantly reckon with what's happening.
he watches the slide of childe's tongue on the underside of his finger, the pink line of it briefly slipping out over his lower lip. he watches cooly despite childe's enraptured performance, though his blood and breath run hot. he pushes his finger onto the soft middle of childe's tongue. ]
I should have expected this.
[ which is a feat in itself, so there's a point for childe, sort of. zhongli isn't caught off-guard often, and certainly not in situations like this one. he draws his finger from childe's lips slowly.
(in the middle of his right forearm is a golden print of a blooming glaze lily, seen from above. it looks unassumingly similar to the rest of the designs; childe may not pay any special attention to it, even if it means the world to zhongli.) ]
I'll note that particular care is needed to maintain my mortal appearance in these situations.
[ he squares and presses his hips against childe's, in just the right angle to send another bolt of pleasure through his body. in the same movement, the slow crawl of that dark brown skin slips all the way to his shoulders like a long sweep of paint, as if he'd just released whatever force held it back.
he replaces his index finger with two, pressing them to childe's lips and then pushing inside to find his tongue. he watches with rapt attention, gold eyes narrowed, not betraying an ounce of emotion otherwise.
leaving childe to hold himself up with his legs locked on zhongli's hips, zhongli blindly opens the front of childe's pants and slips his fingers past the opening. his hand closes on the length of his cock, hard behind the fabric of his undergarments, and he presses his thumb to its leaking, smooth tip. childe might feel zhongli's erection swell.
if childe wanted to be a spectacle, he could be one for now, under his direction. ]
I won't bother to hide my skin any longer with you. You don't seem to mind it.
no subject
This is what he's longed for. The full weight of Morax's gaze, fixated on him like there's no one else in the world to pay attention to in this moment. Like he's little more than a too-bold mortal courting battles he can't possibly hope to win--but that he's one worth noticing. Maybe even one worth acknowledging.
He lets Zhongli withdraw, but not without scraping his teeth against his knuckles as he does so. But he doesn't let Zhongli go far; instead, he chases his hand and presses a line of warm, open-mouthed kisses from Zhongli's palm to his wrist, reverent in his blasphemy.
He pulls back a little and opens his mouth to speak, but whatever he'd intended to say is lost to a gasp as Zhongli thrusts against him, his eyes widening as he watches color wash over Zhongli's skin.
It shouldn't be as surprising as it is--he'd done plenty of research on Adepti once he'd arrived in Liyue, and he'd known Rex Lapis could change his appearance. But this isn't what he'd expected, from the stories; it never would've occurred to him that Zhongli maintains a human facade every day. It rouses a thousand questions, none of which he's capable of holding onto, because...
Well. Because Zhongli's inhumanly beautiful, and Childe can't look at him without getting hopelessly distracted. That's really all there is to it.
The idea that Zhongli doesn't want to hold back--that he's having trouble holding back--is so heady that Childe hardly knows what to do with it. The mark on his hip pulses deep beneath his skin, like it's resonating with Zhongli's true appearance.
(Or maybe it's just responding to his ridiculous heart, twisting with tremulous hope in his chest.)
In the end, he doesn't chase whatever it was he'd meant to say. Instead, he dips his head forward to welcome Zhongli's fingers back into his mouth, letting go of Zhongli's wrist in order to trace one of the golden lines up his arm. If his fingers brush against the glaze lily mark, he doesn't seem to notice. He's too focused on bobbing his head and stroking Zhongli's fingers with his tongue, on trying to hold Zhongli's tantalizingly impassive gaze as he does.
It's a valiant effort on Childe's part, but it means he can't do anything when Zhongli reaches for his cock, either to help or to hinder. With his strength, he can at least arch up into the touch a little, trying to press forward for more--but that's about the most he can manage without unwinding himself from Zhongli.
Slowly, he lets his left leg begin drop, as if he plans to do just that--
--but come on, why would he be doing that when he could be a brat instead?
Between one shallow breath and the next, Childe shifts his weight, hooks his leg around Zhongli's ankle, and pulls, an attempt to sweep him off-balance and knock him down to the ground. He doesn't really expect it to work--they're pressed together too tightly, Zhongli will feel the tells in his movements--but he can't resist the urge to try. If Zhongli's going to spoil him and indulge his greed like this, then he's going to take full advantage of it for as long as he can.]
no subject
to leave childe breathless and still in front of him, mouth parted open, eyes wide enough to finally catch a sliver of light—he can indulge in that, just this once.
his fingers push into childe's mouth with ease, teeth grazing again over his knuckle as childe manages to take the full length of it with enthusiasm. he gives him a show, running his fingers down the length of his forearm and knitting his brows together as he moves and zhongli watches. that gaze is too gratified, too furtive, as if his fingers and the hand pressed over his cock was all he needed.
childe lowers his leg too slowly. zhongli feels the tensing of muscles in childe's hip, waiting to release. the swell of childe's tongue around the length of his fingers briefly slows, and zhongli can only assume that his attention is elsewhere.
to save childe from having his dick torn off reflexively, zhongli immediately lets him go. his gold eyes narrow, now glowing in that unleashed archon energy, and he braces himself the instant childe hooks his leg around his ankle and suddenly pulls against his tendon. childe won't be surprised when he stands still and unshaken, with not even the slightest give in his ankle.
he won't admit to using a shred of his power to withstand that maneuver. his muscle might have given slightly if he hadn't. childe doesn't deserve that win. not after this. his gold eyes bore into that deep, dull blue, and he pulls his fingers from childe's mouth. he grasps childe's hip again, pushing his thumb to that aggressively shining soulmark, its color leaping to meet him. he suffuses it with his energy, intending for it to burn. ]
Tartaglia.
[ another low rumble. wet fingers or no, he twists the top of childe's hair in his fist and yanks it toward the wall, tilting his chin upward.
zhongli's piercing gaze never leaves him. his lips curl in a thin smile. he's amused. ]
It's like you to be stubborn, even after I've shown you the true form of Morax. Admittedly I'm unfamiliar with this feeling, but I'd like to rid you of that obstinacy.
no subject
Childe: I know, I will try to knock him to the floor
Local man continues to underestimate what he's getting into, news at 11.
But Childe doesn't seem at all bothered by his failure--in fact, he's laughing with breathless delight, even as his voice cuts into a sharp noise at Zhongli's swift retaliation. Maybe it's the glow of Zhongli's gaze, or the moonlight from the window--but there's a sparkle of life in Childe's eyes that could almost be his own.]
If that were possible, Zhongli-xiansheng, [His words aren't quite steady with how quick and shallow his breathing is, and he swallows as he leans his head back against the wall, easing the pull of Zhongli's grip just a little. But his voice is rich with warmth and happiness, even as he instinctively curls against the pressure to his soulmark, nails digging into Zhongli's skin as he fights to keep steady.] then it would've happened already.
[Zhongli's hardly the first person to express such a sentiment--although he's certainly the first to do it under these circumstances. But Childe's confidence isn't baseless; if it were, he wouldn't be the youngest of the Harbingers, after all.]
But-- [He lets his other leg drop from Zhongli's waist with much less grace, but he doesn't leave space between them for long. Zhongli's grip on his hair is too tight for him to lower his head, so he blindly feels his way from Zhongli's arm to his hip, pulling him forward to encourage him to close the small gap between them. His other hand, still buried in Zhongli's hair, stays right where it is for now--a lifeline, of sorts, the only thing keeping him grounded against the searing pleasure radiating from his soulmark. If he tries to stand on his own right now, he's not sure his legs will actually hold him up, but he can't bring himself to be too embarrassed when it's Zhongli's fault.] --you're welcome to try.
[Everyone else had tried to beat it out of him, because that's simply how things work in the Fatui. Zhongli can try that too, if he wants. Zhongli can try anything he wants right now, honestly, and Childe will probably think it's the best idea he's ever heard.]
no subject
even after childe's feet meet the ground and he squares their hips against the wall, that delighted laughter rings in zhongli's ears. the clearest bell in a dark and endless cavern of memories. childe's fingertips burn crescents into his neck; zhongli disregards it. he hears but doesn't hear how childe provokes him despite his obvious weakness, enraptured by the elation and levity in that voice and less by the meaning behind his words.
zhongli had known many creatures of madness in his lifetime. the inevitability of corruption, erosion, the reaching and poisonous hands of exterminated gods, the thirst for blood and ruin simply for the sake of it—zhongli silently vowed to suppress it, cure it if he can. he lost so many to all of it.
for the first time, someone's laughter skated the edge of that madness and made it something bewitching. he had only seen it in brief glimpses, when childe broached the subject of battles or feats of strength. zhongli had never been able to tell if those eyes were lit from within. he liked to believe they were, and that they might light up for something else yet undiscovered.
tartaglia, grinning and breathless with eyes glinting only for him, is one of the most beautiful sights he's ever seen.
zhongli would lose him too. he decides it was better to have him while he was still here to take and willing to give.
he releases childe's hair and instead grasps childe's chin in his hand, his first finger and thumb following the curve of his jaw. zhongli cants his head and seals childe's mouth with his own, fervent and immediate, groaning softly. his tongue pries between his lips and pushes inside, greedy and devouring as if to take that laughter for himself.
want scrapes inside of his throat. for once, it isn't about asserting himself or silencing childe. the kiss was irresistible, borne out of an ache and longing that trailed after childe every time he left liyue harbor. since their first meeting, he realizes. all of it poured forth like a pot spilled over. zhongli had been unacquainted with feelings of love, mistook them for deep feelings of comradery, for so long. he hadn't recognized it until now. (fellas is it gay to love your bro?)
zhongli grasps tightly around childe's arm, caught around a bicep hard with muscle and laden with scars. his fingers were a break in the string of lichtenberg scars running from wrist to shoulder to neck. ]
The bed. [ he murmurs to his lips. he turns his head and pulls them towards it, unyielding unless childe outwardly protests, or if those shaky legs can still barely hold him. zhongli would pick him up and throw him there if he had to. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
the way my paid ran out and I'm left with like 90% chibi icons lmfdksjghjkhsg
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
nice fall out boy reference
JHDFKJSHGK I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
I would LOVE if dw would stop giving me errors every time I comment
I KNOW FR i'm back to writing in my notes app
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)