[ 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. ]
[Childe doesn't know if he'll ever get used to the way Zhongli kisses. Perhaps it's his own fault for underestimating--or maybe it's a natural consequence of the fact that his past partners have never been anything meaningful. Zhongli, for all his earlier dissatisfaction with Childe's ruse, kisses like they've been lovers their entire lives, like there's no force in the world strong enough to hold him back. It's as if he's making up for centuries of separation that haven't happened yet.
...Will he get used to it? Will he have the chance? He'd wonder, if he had the capacity to do so. But Zhongli's currently making very sure he does not. It's all Childe can do to keep up with him--parting his lips to welcome him in, meeting Zhongli's tongue with his own and finally closing his eyes, just long enough to let Zhongli's desire wash over him.
If nothing else, Zhongli's thoroughly eradicated any doubts Childe might've had about whether or not Zhongli truly wants this. (Him.) Childe's want--his need--threatens to consume him if he loosens his grip on his self-control, but the heat beneath his skin seems a pale flame in comparison to the way Zhongli looks at him. If they weren't on a ship out at sea, destined back to the harbor at the end of the night, Childe's fairly certain they'd be in this room for days.
Zhongli's grip on him is firm and unyielding, his voice low and intimate, words felt more than heard. Childe shivers against him, fingers flexing where they rest against his skin.]
--Yeah, okay.
[He doesn't struggle or protest--deciding, by some metric of his own making, that this is not a fight he wants to undertake. Were he recklessly aggressive, he would be so much simpler to comprehend. But he is keen and unpredictable, and that's what makes him dangerous. Even here, with nothing on the line except emotions they haven't yet named.
He doesn't fight--but he doesn't make (let) Zhongli carry him either. He follows Zhongli on his own two feet through sheer force of will, though it would be a lie to say he isn't grateful for the small size of boat cabins, or the swaying of the ship to excuse his stumbling. (Didn't he just say earlier that he was raised on boats and wouldn't ever fall? Whatever.) But, of course, he's hardly one to lie back and do nothing; if Zhongli lets him, he'll push him down onto his back and swing a leg over his hips, to settle on top of him.
If Zhongli doesn't permit it, or pins him down too quickly for Childe to try, well--he won't try to throw Zhongli off him or anything. He'll go where he's directed... for now.]
[ that childe would simply open his mouth to meet him, slide their tongues, let himself be devoured and led away without any bite or protest—all of it was beyond zhongli's predictions. that fiery spirit, flaring with delight and laughter, seemed to have dimmed even if the desire was still there.
it's why, when childe attempts to push him, zhongli does not budge an inch. he turns childe by his arm on those stumbling feet until his back faces the bed. (his own strides were perfectly steady and even despite the sway of the ship. don't think he didn't notice the way childe would lose his footing behind him, briefly pulling against zhongli's grip.) and down they go.
zhongli's shoes are quickly pushed off of his heels and left on the ground. with childe fallen back against the bed, zhongli opens his legs and slots himself between them. he raises himself to meet childe's mouth with his in one fluid motion, drinking in the sight of him all the while: half-bare, hair mussed, endless blue eyes, body sunk onto the sheets.
their kiss ends with zhongli drawing childe's lip between his teeth, dragging until it drops away. his hands are greedy, holding his waist and sliding to his his pointed, slender hips. heat pools inside of him and arousal tenses his stomach against the heat between childe's legs. he grasps the sides of childe's white slacks, but before he can pull them down, he remembers.
his fingertips drag on childe's thigh until he finds it. between his fevered breaths and heady want, zhongli still finds it in himself to smile. ]
I will never understand why you subject yourself to this useless thing.
[ he speaks with soft and breathless laughter as he sits back on his knees. he unbuckles and unfurls the godforsaken thing from childe's thigh. ]
And now you've subjected me to it.
[ an intermission like this hopefully wouldn't ruin the mood. ]
[Well, far be it from him to complain about getting pinned to a bed by a god. Has anyone ever told you you have control issues? he might've teased, had Zhongli not dipped down to kiss him again--as it is, his lips just curve upwards against Zhongli's as he kicks off his shoes too. Without his focus divided, he's free to let his hands roam, and he does just that; dragging his nails up and down Zhongli's back just hard enough to set his nerves alight. He lets his fingers wander back over Zhongli's arms, brushing unknowingly against that glaze lily mark as he goes.
When Zhongli pulls away, Childe watches him with a sharp, intent gaze. Mesmerized by the sight of him, watching for an opening to seize the advantage--with Childe, it's always both, of course. Still, he seems willing to bide his time for the latter; he runs his tongue over his lower lip, as if surprised there's no blood to be found.
He's certainly not going to stop Zhongli from undressing him, but he does take it upon himself to remove his own Vision, stilling Zhongli's hands for a brief moment as he sets it gently out of the way. It's not so easily damaged, of course, but he does have some respect--and if there's the slightest shine of purple in there, well, surely that's nothing to worry about.
Zhongli's words startle a laugh out of him, and he whips back around, feigning indignance.]
What! [There's far too much humor in his voice for true offense, though he's making a show of it anyway, even as he reaches out to rest his hands on Zhongli's waist, just above his pants.] It's for weapons, obviously!
[WHAT WEAPONS. HE MAKES HIS OWN WEAPONS. WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN]
Anyway, I don't want to hear a thing about my clothes from Mister "I wear four layers of shirts every day even though my city is perfectly warm all the time." [First it was Zhongli's hands, now it's his shirts... Childe... you could at least pretend you weren't obsessed]
a trace of light follows the brush of childe's hand, lining the shape of the glaze lily in the lightest iridescent yellow and blue. it follows him like water moving in a gently swirling cup.
zhongli is firstly preoccupied with childe's answer, his sharp desire substituted again with deep affection. his smile grows, and his narrow and mirthful eyes rest on childe as he holds the back of his knee and slides away the belt. ]
I suppose I've grown too accustomed to the mild weather. [ listen. zhongli is no better dressed than any other genshin!!
anyway. now given the opportunity, he dips his head and presses his smiling lips to the shining mark on childe's hip. he feels it answer him, hot against his lips. he tilts his cheek to childe's hipbone to speak warmly to his skin: ]
I'm sure your weapons are stored as painlessly as they are inconspicuously.
[ he had a knife just hanging out in his coat. you can't tell me he didn't get poked a few times.
zhongli's fingers are dipping beneath the seam of childe's pants when he sees it. all thoughts leave him as he lifts his head to get a better look. it's unmistakable.
he fully sits back on his knees again, taken out of the situation as he stares at the inside of his forearm. ideas slot and shift, another puzzle offered to him by guizhong's gentle hands. he presses his fingers to either side of the glaze lily mark, watching as the light moves, a compass only ever pointing him in one direction.
[Zhongli's words earn him an undignified snort of amusement. Childe's head tips back and he hisses softly at the warmth of Zhongli's lips on his soulmark, pushing back the urge to thread his fingers through Zhongli's hair again.
He is tempted to retaliate--to reach for Zhongli's mark in return, and lavish as much attention on it as Zhongli will allow--but then Zhongli's attention strays, and he blinks, confused. He follows his line of sight, sitting up to get a better look; curiously, he lets his fingers join Zhongli's, slipping between them to brush against the strange mark too.]
What's this?
[He'd probably figure it out if he took a second to think about it, but--well. He's not really in top deduction mode at the moment.]
[ childe will see the same reaction as the mark on his neck—this time in a shimmering yellow and blue, colors shifting towards his touch. zhongli continues to stare, his shoulders gently slacking. the surprise in his eyes eases away, seemingly slaked with his slow understanding. ]
This... [ he raises his gaze back to childe, searching his face, as if there would be evidence there if he looked hard enough. ] ...It is the mark that connected me to Guizhong.
Your other--[soulmate--but he falters before he can say it out loud, and instead, softly:] Oh.
[He remembers, of course, that Zhongli had said her name in the hallway--but he'd been so sidetracked by the idea that Zhongli thought it applied to them that he hadn't really stopped to process anything else.
How long, he wonders, has this mark been on Zhongli's skin? Hundreds of years? No--it must be thousands, if he's remembering his history correctly. Zhongli mentioned that she was the only one whom he might've considered a "partner", but... could Zhongli have had other marks, in the past? Did they fade, if this one didn't?
Will his, someday, after he's died? Is it worse if it doesn't?
It's a terrible conundrum. To condemn someone to a lonely existence, left with only a memory to love--or to be forgotten, in exchange for their freedom.
Carefully, he withdraws his fingers from the mark, dropping his hand. He doesn't often have trouble knowing what to say around Zhongli, but right now, his thoughts and questions stick in his throat, suppressed. He doesn't know what might be too heavy, too painful to discuss, and he doesn't want to stumble blindly into something delicate. He has no problem needling Zhongli himself, playfully disrespectful when the mood takes him--but this is different. This feels like the sort of thing that ought to be protected.]
[ he takes in every sound and every sight of him as childe processes what's happened. he doesn't move as childe drops his hand, crestfallen and, for once, at a loss. the lightning and the ensuing wildfire had suddenly been snuffed out, left as a quiet candle in the dark.
he has had thousands of years to grieve. he had turned guizhong's death in his head for seemingly endless summers, dulling sharp edges, making sense of the purportedly unthinkable. save for the dumbbell she had left behind, zhongli likes to think he had fully untangled his feelings, even if the grief and melancholy still existed in his heart at the thought of it.
with his other hand, he holds his arm and watches as he swipes his thumb over the shining mark. the light ripples after it. ]
I first met the God of Dust near Guili Plains, in a field of blooming glaze lilies. Fitting, as this flower was also her favorite.
[ he looks back to childe before him. ]
This mark drew itself upon my skin that day, not unlike the mark I have for you. It only appears when I show my true skin. I've kept it hidden for quite some time. ...This is the first time that I've seen it react this way since her passing.
[ he searches childe again, willing him to smile again and speak his mind, even if it isn't possible. childe looks as though he had been run through by a sword, all life within him suddenly halted. zhongli can only guess at the regretful thoughts behind those eyes.
if guizhong still lived, he thinks, that would be the only way for this mark to shine the way it does. if zhongli is to believe all of the ancient texts and every myth and legend that's resounded through the ages, she is yet still living.
more than that, zhongli's fated one surpasses any vessel completely. it isn't "guizhong" who has found him again, only the other half of the soul split from his own. childe was his present. he wouldn't allow him to be steeped in the past. ]
[He doesn't reach out to touch it, but he watches as Zhongli does, his eyes fixed on the swirling light of the mark as he listens to Zhongli speak. The fire beneath his skin has cooled for the moment--banked, for now, just long enough to focus. To listen, not because it affects the two of them, but because he cares about Zhongli.
He isn't a jealous person. It doesn't hurt him to think of Zhongli loving another--quite the opposite. It would be ridiculous, let alone cruel, to want to trap someone with such a long history to a single love--even now, he doubts the validity of Zhongli's claim that Guizhong was his only (though that assessment is heavily influenced by his own bias). Still, it's impossible not to consider everything that this mark means for Zhongli. To be devoted to someone thousands of years after their passing, knowing that no one else knew them as you did, that a piece of your heart would forever be caught in lonely yearning...
What an enormous thing it is to love someone.]
You must miss her. [He says it like it's gentle fact--almost like he would miss her too, if he'd had the chance to know her. His gaze drifts back up, then, to the mark on Zhongli's neck--his mark, still so vibrant despite the lack of his touch.] ...Why didn't these ones show up when we met?
[Would you have trusted me more, if you'd known back then? Would you have let me in, too?
[ an even more enormous thing for an archon who once held an unshakable heart, walled against sympathy or understanding for those he served and protected. guizhong slowly wore them down.
childe's words seep into his heart, prickling like needles. at the same time, the deeply sympathetic in his azure-blue eyes is sweet, a balm to his pain. his golden eyes soften. ]
I do. She was a beloved friend and teacher.
[ he remembers how well the people of guili assembly loved and revered her. she taught morax humility, empathy, graciousness, understanding. in his weaker moments, he wonders how she would have thrived if she hadn't been stolen away by corruption.
would she have met childe? what would have happened then?
childe's next question pulls him back to the present moment. he's silent for a moment, picking apart what the question means. childe was wondering about what this meant in the context of them.
zhongli's eyes travel downward, to the glowing mark on childe's hip. he shakes his head. ]
I can't be sure. I can only theorize.
[ he looks to childe again and holds his gaze. how had he felt the first moment they met? what were the circumstances? what did he think of childe after hearing him speak? and did it make a difference if the mark appeared later than it used to? ]
Perhaps it's something having to do with gods and archons. The instant I met Guizhong, it was impressed upon me that the course of my life shift from then on. At the time, Morax sealing a contract of partnership with anyone was unheard of. I only conceded to it from instinct alone. It was the best decision I could have made for the good of Liyue.
[ he raises his finger to his lips, parsing childe as if he were a question written down. ]
As for you and I... the stakes were much lower when we met. Liyue was no longer a seedling that required cultivating from careful hands. I did not view you in terms of how you might affect the course of my life.
[ he closes his eyes and clears his throat. ]
Though I'll concede to the fact that you captured my interest.
[ aka he was an attractive foreigner. zhongli can admit to himself when someone is handsome. ]
I don't know how you may have felt. The mark hadn't appeared on your skin either, if my memory is correct.
[It's hard to imagine anyone teaching Zhongli anything. But then, Childe supposes, even Zhongli was young and naive once--he's read plenty of stories about Morax, though he doubts most of them are accurate. Still, somehow, Zhongli became who he is today; it makes sense that it happened through the influence of another. The same is true for Childe, after all, even though he can't imagine loving Skirk like that. Even now, he can only imagine her as a larger-than-life figure far beyond him.
Maybe he should feel offended by the rest of what Zhongli says. If he wanted to, he could easily interpret it poorly--he could hear you were insignificant or your actions were never going to matter that much, in the end or something equally cold and calculating. Maybe a few months ago, he would have. But not now, after hearing the reverence with which Zhongli talks about Guizhong. Not when Zhongli's still close enough that Childe can feel the warmth radiating from his body.
Of course Childe can't resist him. He was born in the cold.
His lips quirk at Zhongli's admission--hearing the attraction that goes unsaid beneath the tactful phrasing. Mercifully, he doesn't comment.]
If it did, I never noticed. [But he doubts it; it's awfully visible, after all. As for how he'd felt, meeting Zhongli--well. If Zhongli wants to know that, he'll have to ask.
He has his own guesses for what might've happened, when it comes to the two of them. But they're too storybook for him to voice aloud of his own accord. Instead, he lifts his hand again, reaching towards Zhongli to trace the edges of his mark with his fingertip.]
It's a good thing you can hide this, or else you'd have to deal with a lot of questions. [His tone shifts back to something lighter--amused, at the thought of Zhongli having to go about his life with such a large brand of ownership on his neck. Hu Tao would be in hysterics for days.] What am I supposed to do about mine, huh? All my shirts are tailored.
[ zhongli lowers his arms as childe reaches for him. his head lightly and reflectively tilts away from childe's hand, baring his neck to that light, dragging touch. they've had some moments of tenderness like this—a far cry from the ferocity of moments ago. they're already bitten and scratched in several places. the front of childe's pants are still undone. zhongli's greedy hands are tragically empty, and his mouth is preoccupied by nothing but words and empty air.
and he's usually so patient.
a slow smile spreads on his lips. he reaches his hand and closes it over childe's, keeping it near his neck. ]
Mm. The location of it does seem quite deliberate. Heads may turn, but perhaps it isn't so strange for an employee of the Northland Bank to wear the symbol of Mora on their body. You are simply fanatically dedicated to your craft.
[ his smile grows. he's 100% messing and thinks he's funny.
he presses his lips to childe's palm and rests in it for a short moment, reveling in being able to share in such an act. he lowers his hand as he looks to childe again. ]
Now I'd like to ask you. Why do you believe our marks appeared later on rather than on our first meeting?
[DON'T TELL HIM TO PRETEND IT'S A MONEY TATTOO ZHONGLI YOU BUTTHEAD. Childe narrows his eyes, but vengeance comes only in the form of a playful pinch, hardly noticeable compared to the passionate bites and scratches from earlier.
He has half a mind to demand that Zhongli keep his mark uncovered as long as Childe has to show his--but the rest of him, the part that hasn't forgotten where they are and how they got there, urges him to lean in, to sink his teeth in and leave far more purposeful signs of his claim. His own neck is still tender from Zhongli's attention earlier; it's tempting to reach up and press with his fingers, to ensure that the bruise he's sporting will last for days.
But Zhongli's asking him a question, so he doesn't. His hand instead comes to rest naturally on the curve of Zhongli's jaw. The tassel of his earring brushes against his fingers; Childe wonders, idly, how Zhongli might look in red.
He searches Zhongli's gaze, contemplative--and a little guarded, something he doesn't try to hide. Open wariness, another paradoxical sign of trust. For anyone else, he'd probably dodge the question, but...]
All I know of this is what you've told me tonight. Your guess is better than mine. [He's quiet again, then, but this pause is purely thoughtful as he decides on his phrasing.] But, if I had to... I'd say it's likely got to do with how we were both hiding who we were, when we met.
[Granted, Childe always owned his identity as a Harbinger, but he'd used that as a purposeful misdirection. And yes, after the reveal, their identities had been thrust into the open. But it took until tonight for them to begin to recognize, and acknowledge, what they mean to each other. The last of their secrets.
He shrugs, then, affecting carelessness. It's a gesture born of habit, an ingrained defense that isn't easily discarded even in the presence of someone he's chosen to trust.]
But what do I know? Maybe it's some kind of prank from the spirit realm.
[ owie... zhongli gently winces at that pinch, though he still wears that warm, snide smile. childe not being able to appreciate comedic genius isn't his fault.
anyway, his playfulness ebbs as childe's hand follows the line of his jaw, fingertips spreading into the fine hairs near his neck. zhongli's smile leaves him slowly, and while he's tempted to tip his head into his hand, he lends childe his full attention as he's studied.
he's been under childe's scrutinizing gazes before, often while the wound of zhongli's betrayal was still fresh. there are echoes of that time here in the way childe's eyes bore into him and how he hides his vulnerability behind a façade of blitheness and disregard. zhongli has seen too much of the world to not recognize that behavior and be able to pry it apart, but the situation was more delicate here. it's less about chiding his behaviors and more about establishing feelings of safety and trust in the one thing that zhongli felt he could guarantee.
the brief shine in childe's eyes hides itself away again in that spread of ocean blue, a rare creature cresting and then diving back beneath the waves. i have a hope underneath all of this, zhongli hears it say, and i know better than to think that wishes can be granted without payment.
he listens intently. carefully, he slowly passes his hand into the childe's hair, finally resting his fingers at the back of his head. he's going to disregard those qualifiers entirely. ]
You believe that we continued to conceal our true selves until this evening.
[ confirm or deny. ]
the way my paid ran out and I'm left with like 90% chibi icons lmfdksjghjkhsg
[Yes, mostly--though that train of thought, of course, raises much deeper questions of self. Does Zhongli even know his true self, after thousands of years and all manner of lives he's lived? Childe, too, has more identities than a normal person should; even with his heart bared, Zhongli doesn't know him in full.
It's the sort of conversation they could spend hours having. Another night, perhaps, and they'd theorize about this over drinks, then tea, the cool breeze from the night sea wrapping around them. But it's not really what he wants to get into right now--not when Zhongli is still so temptingly close, his decorated skin within easy reach.
(Not when his touch is so gentle, his gaze piercing and knowing.)
He shrugs again, but he leans a little into the touch, and doesn't pull his own hand away from Zhongli either. Accepting, even if his guard isn't fully down. But then, it never is, even when he's alone.]
"Believe" is a strong word. [His lips quirk, like he knows Zhongli's looking for a straight answer that he's not giving.] But if you don't know for sure, then I think it's as good a theory as any.
[ childe is being evasive still. zhongli isn't the type to press or pry, only remember and gently remind later on when the dust has settled. it seemed that childe remembered where they were and why—how on the surface, all of what they were doing was a silent admittance to their feelings for one another. for now, that was enough.
zhongli cranes childe closer to him as he leans forward. the other hand reaches blindly for his side, fingers brushing over his bare ribs before he lays down his palm. he traces it down to the soft curve in childe's waist. ]
I like your theory. It has merit, at least from my perspective. ...I was more honest with you this evening than I have been since we've met.
[ even if it was inopportune, showing up in the middle of dinner and just before childe made his breakthrough with the fonts fontanian representative. though it inconvenienced him, zhongli might consider it a bit of revenge for using him as a tool, aside from the part where childe was a stumbling and blushing mess throughout the evening.
how long might they have gone on dancing around one another if they hadn't appeared? he wonders for a brief flicker of a moment, and then he decides to table it along with everything else. his eyes dart to childe's mouth, red and supple. he remembers the feeling of it between his teeth. ]
...Or perhaps they appeared at precisely the moment they were meant to and nothing more.
[ he will leave it there, because that ache and burn is difficult to suppress the longer he looks. zhongli kisses him fervently and presses him back onto the sheets. he slots again between his legs, hips rocked upward to meet him. the hand at the back of childe's hair, pressed between his head and the pillow, tightens again into a fist. he bites down on his lip, pressing just enough to break skin, a copper tang bursting where his tongue presses against it.
he still wants him deeply, and has for too long to sacrifice that. ]
[He is indeed--but he relaxes a little as Zhongli seems to sense his guard and respect it, brushing against it without pushing too hard. Like a wild animal needing the tether of touch to keep from biting.
He knows it's true, of course. The same is true for him, even if he'd avoided giving Zhongli a direct answer out on deck. Truthfully, if not for the appearance of the marks, he probably would have continued to dodge around his feelings, leaving the awkward revelations of the evening untouched forever. But it's something else to hear it straight from Zhongli--to know that he hadn't been alone in his distant wanting.
He lets Zhongli draw him close, watching the path of his gaze and failing to suppress his slight smile. Since he's watching, it's not a surprise when Zhongli moves in to kiss him again, and he meets him easily, warm and welcoming. He hesitates for a minute as Zhongli pushes against him, but his back hits the bed before he can decide whether he wants to put up a fight, and the decision is made for him.
He doesn't mind, though. Everything still feels a little too tender after that discussion, like he's all raw nerves and open wounds waiting for salt. For once, he'll gladly, knowingly, follow Zhongli's lead.
He makes a low noise of appreciation, lifting his hips to meet Zhongli's as his hand drops down to grip his shoulder. The sting of pain and the taste of blood are paradoxically calming; Zhongli's grip is iron-tight, and yet, it feels a little like he's being indulged. Spoiled, even.
He'd had intentions, earlier--sly plans, desires that still burn under his skin, easily revived by the heavy passion in Zhongli's kiss. But he's too impatient to carry any of them out now. He squeezes Zhongli's shoulder before he drops both of his hands down to Zhongli's pants, blindly searching for the fastenings to get them off. He's done with teasing and playing, at least for now.]
[ there is no biting response or purposeful, goading resistance. zhongli lets his eyes wander plainly, and the familiar curve of childe's smiling lips brings a cloying warmth in his chest. snide and beautiful, not unlike every other time he bore witness to it.
zhongli kisses him, head canted, breathing in. again, childe is receptive more than greedy, giving zhongli his reigns and only responding in kind as if he had been waiting for this. after all of that talk of pain and longing, to feel indulged himself is sweet. it's unfamiliar, but it reads as a show of precious trust. zhongli almost thinks of pulling away, going slower, savoring him, but he had wanted the blood on his lip and hair twisted in his fingers. he still wants to drive him mad, if he can.
some part of him had wanted to revive those dark intentions and desires, thinking that they're what childe wants from him and something easily granted. still, even if childe doesn't respond, the sound of his moan in zhongli's mouth is more than enough.
childe's hands blindly go to the front of his trousers, unbuttoning and opening with urgency as zhongli pushes his hot tongue past his lips. there's a moment of his, touching teeth, still tasting blood as it beads on his lip. still bracing his arm beside childe's head, zhongli slowly ends their kiss, licking traces of saliva from his lips. then his mouth travels downward, briefly closing over the angry, pulsing mark on childe's neck. he turns his head, does the same to the opposite side near his collarbone, and sucks a bruise onto his skin.
his hands grasp the belt loops of childe's pants, pulling them down to his knees if he allows it. ]
[Even pliant as he currently is, there are still signs of that wild, untamable nature in everything he does. The way he urges Zhongli's tongue into his mouth, only to push back again in turn, sharing the taste of blood between them. The way he shoves Zhongli's pants down only as far as he needs to in order to finally, finally get a hand on his cock.
He shudders as he curls his fingers, as if touching Zhongli brings him the same level of pleasure that touching himself would. Instinctively, he tries to look down, but it's impossible when Zhongli's got his teeth in him--more importantly, when Childe doesn't want him to stop.
There isn't a single person on this ship who isn't going to know what happened in here when they leave this room. They are extremely lucky that Childe finds that thought exhilarating.
His free hand finds its way back into Zhongli's hair; if there's anything left of his lovely style from earlier, it's not going to last much longer. It's a little awkward, then, since he doesn't want to let go of Zhongli, but Childe does lift his hips up to make it easier. Zhongli can do whatever he likes with their clothes--at this point, Childe's pretty sure Zhongli could shred them and talk him into swimming back to the city.]
[ that momentum from before is finally making its return with their hurried hands and hot, desperate kisses. childe pushes his pants and wraps his hand around the length of his cock, and it's a shock of arousal through his hips and up his middle. he breaks their kisses, sighing shakily against childe's cheek, and that's when he moves to bite into his neck. zhongli's hair is entirely undone by this point, loosened from its hair tie and disheveled over his forehead. he shines with sweat.
childe's ministrations don't last long. zhongli reaches for his wrist and squeezes for him to let go. hopefully he does; if so, zhongli is free to sit up on his knees, close childe's legs in front of him, and move his legs beside one of his hips. childe's pants come up and off quickly, fingers scraping as they travel from thigh to ankle. afterwards, his pants are tossed elsewhere on the floor.
the thought of lube should have come to mind earlier. there's nothing that they can use here, at least to his knowledge. he closes his eyes and quickly wets three long fingers in his mouth. they drip as they come apart from his lips, and he dives them again between childe's legs.
zhongli presses his middle finger to childe's entrance, prodding gently before he twists it inside. the tightness draws him in, hot and pulsing. he pushes down to his knuckle and presses his palm between childe's legs.
he pauses, letting the feeling sit as he watches childe acclimate to the feeling. briefly, childe's murmured words from earlier come to mind, skipping a shiver down his spine. don't be gentle. part of him wonders if he shouldn't stop at all. perhaps he should give into the inclination to keep rocking his hand in and out of him, find where it pleases him the most, fuck him relentlessly with his fingers. what would he look like? how would he sound?
zhongli cleans his lips again, his throat dry. his resolve to act civilly rebuilt itself when they talked about guizhong, and again those fissures were opening. he remembered the way childe gasped and hummed and arched against the wall, scraping his back and sucking his fingers. irresistible, he thinks, wrapping his free fingers around childe's cock and tugging.
everyone outside would see the mark on his neck, if they didn't suspect them already. none of them mattered to him in this moment. ]
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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.
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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.]
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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.
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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.]
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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. ]
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...Will he get used to it? Will he have the chance? He'd wonder, if he had the capacity to do so. But Zhongli's currently making very sure he does not. It's all Childe can do to keep up with him--parting his lips to welcome him in, meeting Zhongli's tongue with his own and finally closing his eyes, just long enough to let Zhongli's desire wash over him.
If nothing else, Zhongli's thoroughly eradicated any doubts Childe might've had about whether or not Zhongli truly wants this. (Him.) Childe's want--his need--threatens to consume him if he loosens his grip on his self-control, but the heat beneath his skin seems a pale flame in comparison to the way Zhongli looks at him. If they weren't on a ship out at sea, destined back to the harbor at the end of the night, Childe's fairly certain they'd be in this room for days.
Zhongli's grip on him is firm and unyielding, his voice low and intimate, words felt more than heard. Childe shivers against him, fingers flexing where they rest against his skin.]
--Yeah, okay.
[He doesn't struggle or protest--deciding, by some metric of his own making, that this is not a fight he wants to undertake. Were he recklessly aggressive, he would be so much simpler to comprehend. But he is keen and unpredictable, and that's what makes him dangerous. Even here, with nothing on the line except emotions they haven't yet named.
He doesn't fight--but he doesn't make (let) Zhongli carry him either. He follows Zhongli on his own two feet through sheer force of will, though it would be a lie to say he isn't grateful for the small size of boat cabins, or the swaying of the ship to excuse his stumbling. (Didn't he just say earlier that he was raised on boats and wouldn't ever fall? Whatever.) But, of course, he's hardly one to lie back and do nothing; if Zhongli lets him, he'll push him down onto his back and swing a leg over his hips, to settle on top of him.
If Zhongli doesn't permit it, or pins him down too quickly for Childe to try, well--he won't try to throw Zhongli off him or anything. He'll go where he's directed... for now.]
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it's why, when childe attempts to push him, zhongli does not budge an inch. he turns childe by his arm on those stumbling feet until his back faces the bed. (his own strides were perfectly steady and even despite the sway of the ship. don't think he didn't notice the way childe would lose his footing behind him, briefly pulling against zhongli's grip.) and down they go.
zhongli's shoes are quickly pushed off of his heels and left on the ground. with childe fallen back against the bed, zhongli opens his legs and slots himself between them. he raises himself to meet childe's mouth with his in one fluid motion, drinking in the sight of him all the while: half-bare, hair mussed, endless blue eyes, body sunk onto the sheets.
their kiss ends with zhongli drawing childe's lip between his teeth, dragging until it drops away. his hands are greedy, holding his waist and sliding to his his pointed, slender hips. heat pools inside of him and arousal tenses his stomach against the heat between childe's legs. he grasps the sides of childe's white slacks, but before he can pull them down, he remembers.
his fingertips drag on childe's thigh until he finds it. between his fevered breaths and heady want, zhongli still finds it in himself to smile. ]
I will never understand why you subject yourself to this useless thing.
[ he speaks with soft and breathless laughter as he sits back on his knees. he unbuckles and unfurls the godforsaken thing from childe's thigh. ]
And now you've subjected me to it.
[ an intermission like this hopefully wouldn't ruin the mood. ]
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When Zhongli pulls away, Childe watches him with a sharp, intent gaze. Mesmerized by the sight of him, watching for an opening to seize the advantage--with Childe, it's always both, of course. Still, he seems willing to bide his time for the latter; he runs his tongue over his lower lip, as if surprised there's no blood to be found.
He's certainly not going to stop Zhongli from undressing him, but he does take it upon himself to remove his own Vision, stilling Zhongli's hands for a brief moment as he sets it gently out of the way. It's not so easily damaged, of course, but he does have some respect--and if there's the slightest shine of purple in there, well, surely that's nothing to worry about.
Zhongli's words startle a laugh out of him, and he whips back around, feigning indignance.]
What! [There's far too much humor in his voice for true offense, though he's making a show of it anyway, even as he reaches out to rest his hands on Zhongli's waist, just above his pants.] It's for weapons, obviously!
[WHAT WEAPONS. HE MAKES HIS OWN WEAPONS. WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN]
Anyway, I don't want to hear a thing about my clothes from Mister "I wear four layers of shirts every day even though my city is perfectly warm all the time." [First it was Zhongli's hands, now it's his shirts... Childe... you could at least pretend you weren't obsessed]
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a trace of light follows the brush of childe's hand, lining the shape of the glaze lily in the lightest iridescent yellow and blue. it follows him like water moving in a gently swirling cup.
zhongli is firstly preoccupied with childe's answer, his sharp desire substituted again with deep affection. his smile grows, and his narrow and mirthful eyes rest on childe as he holds the back of his knee and slides away the belt. ]
I suppose I've grown too accustomed to the mild weather. [ listen. zhongli is no better dressed than any other genshin!!
anyway. now given the opportunity, he dips his head and presses his smiling lips to the shining mark on childe's hip. he feels it answer him, hot against his lips. he tilts his cheek to childe's hipbone to speak warmly to his skin: ]
I'm sure your weapons are stored as painlessly as they are inconspicuously.
[ he had a knife just hanging out in his coat. you can't tell me he didn't get poked a few times.
zhongli's fingers are dipping beneath the seam of childe's pants when he sees it. all thoughts leave him as he lifts his head to get a better look. it's unmistakable.
he fully sits back on his knees again, taken out of the situation as he stares at the inside of his forearm. ideas slot and shift, another puzzle offered to him by guizhong's gentle hands. he presses his fingers to either side of the glaze lily mark, watching as the light moves, a compass only ever pointing him in one direction.
then, quietly: ]
...I see now.
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He is tempted to retaliate--to reach for Zhongli's mark in return, and lavish as much attention on it as Zhongli will allow--but then Zhongli's attention strays, and he blinks, confused. He follows his line of sight, sitting up to get a better look; curiously, he lets his fingers join Zhongli's, slipping between them to brush against the strange mark too.]
What's this?
[He'd probably figure it out if he took a second to think about it, but--well. He's not really in top deduction mode at the moment.]
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This... [ he raises his gaze back to childe, searching his face, as if there would be evidence there if he looked hard enough. ] ...It is the mark that connected me to Guizhong.
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[He remembers, of course, that Zhongli had said her name in the hallway--but he'd been so sidetracked by the idea that Zhongli thought it applied to them that he hadn't really stopped to process anything else.
How long, he wonders, has this mark been on Zhongli's skin? Hundreds of years? No--it must be thousands, if he's remembering his history correctly. Zhongli mentioned that she was the only one whom he might've considered a "partner", but... could Zhongli have had other marks, in the past? Did they fade, if this one didn't?
Will his, someday, after he's died? Is it worse if it doesn't?
It's a terrible conundrum. To condemn someone to a lonely existence, left with only a memory to love--or to be forgotten, in exchange for their freedom.
Carefully, he withdraws his fingers from the mark, dropping his hand. He doesn't often have trouble knowing what to say around Zhongli, but right now, his thoughts and questions stick in his throat, suppressed. He doesn't know what might be too heavy, too painful to discuss, and he doesn't want to stumble blindly into something delicate. He has no problem needling Zhongli himself, playfully disrespectful when the mood takes him--but this is different. This feels like the sort of thing that ought to be protected.]
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he has had thousands of years to grieve. he had turned guizhong's death in his head for seemingly endless summers, dulling sharp edges, making sense of the purportedly unthinkable. save for the dumbbell she had left behind, zhongli likes to think he had fully untangled his feelings, even if the grief and melancholy still existed in his heart at the thought of it.
with his other hand, he holds his arm and watches as he swipes his thumb over the shining mark. the light ripples after it. ]
I first met the God of Dust near Guili Plains, in a field of blooming glaze lilies. Fitting, as this flower was also her favorite.
[ he looks back to childe before him. ]
This mark drew itself upon my skin that day, not unlike the mark I have for you. It only appears when I show my true skin. I've kept it hidden for quite some time. ...This is the first time that I've seen it react this way since her passing.
[ he searches childe again, willing him to smile again and speak his mind, even if it isn't possible. childe looks as though he had been run through by a sword, all life within him suddenly halted. zhongli can only guess at the regretful thoughts behind those eyes.
if guizhong still lived, he thinks, that would be the only way for this mark to shine the way it does. if zhongli is to believe all of the ancient texts and every myth and legend that's resounded through the ages, she is yet still living.
more than that, zhongli's fated one surpasses any vessel completely. it isn't "guizhong" who has found him again, only the other half of the soul split from his own. childe was his present. he wouldn't allow him to be steeped in the past. ]
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He isn't a jealous person. It doesn't hurt him to think of Zhongli loving another--quite the opposite. It would be ridiculous, let alone cruel, to want to trap someone with such a long history to a single love--even now, he doubts the validity of Zhongli's claim that Guizhong was his only (though that assessment is heavily influenced by his own bias). Still, it's impossible not to consider everything that this mark means for Zhongli. To be devoted to someone thousands of years after their passing, knowing that no one else knew them as you did, that a piece of your heart would forever be caught in lonely yearning...
What an enormous thing it is to love someone.]
You must miss her. [He says it like it's gentle fact--almost like he would miss her too, if he'd had the chance to know her. His gaze drifts back up, then, to the mark on Zhongli's neck--his mark, still so vibrant despite the lack of his touch.] ...Why didn't these ones show up when we met?
[Would you have trusted me more, if you'd known back then? Would you have let me in, too?
Those, he doesn't ask.]
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childe's words seep into his heart, prickling like needles. at the same time, the deeply sympathetic in his azure-blue eyes is sweet, a balm to his pain. his golden eyes soften. ]
I do. She was a beloved friend and teacher.
[ he remembers how well the people of guili assembly loved and revered her. she taught morax humility, empathy, graciousness, understanding. in his weaker moments, he wonders how she would have thrived if she hadn't been stolen away by corruption.
would she have met childe? what would have happened then?
childe's next question pulls him back to the present moment. he's silent for a moment, picking apart what the question means. childe was wondering about what this meant in the context of them.
zhongli's eyes travel downward, to the glowing mark on childe's hip. he shakes his head. ]
I can't be sure. I can only theorize.
[ he looks to childe again and holds his gaze. how had he felt the first moment they met? what were the circumstances? what did he think of childe after hearing him speak? and did it make a difference if the mark appeared later than it used to? ]
Perhaps it's something having to do with gods and archons. The instant I met Guizhong, it was impressed upon me that the course of my life shift from then on. At the time, Morax sealing a contract of partnership with anyone was unheard of. I only conceded to it from instinct alone. It was the best decision I could have made for the good of Liyue.
[ he raises his finger to his lips, parsing childe as if he were a question written down. ]
As for you and I... the stakes were much lower when we met. Liyue was no longer a seedling that required cultivating from careful hands. I did not view you in terms of how you might affect the course of my life.
[ he closes his eyes and clears his throat. ]
Though I'll concede to the fact that you captured my interest.
[ aka he was an attractive foreigner. zhongli can admit to himself when someone is handsome. ]
I don't know how you may have felt. The mark hadn't appeared on your skin either, if my memory is correct.
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Maybe he should feel offended by the rest of what Zhongli says. If he wanted to, he could easily interpret it poorly--he could hear you were insignificant or your actions were never going to matter that much, in the end or something equally cold and calculating. Maybe a few months ago, he would have. But not now, after hearing the reverence with which Zhongli talks about Guizhong. Not when Zhongli's still close enough that Childe can feel the warmth radiating from his body.
Of course Childe can't resist him. He was born in the cold.
His lips quirk at Zhongli's admission--hearing the attraction that goes unsaid beneath the tactful phrasing. Mercifully, he doesn't comment.]
If it did, I never noticed. [But he doubts it; it's awfully visible, after all. As for how he'd felt, meeting Zhongli--well. If Zhongli wants to know that, he'll have to ask.
He has his own guesses for what might've happened, when it comes to the two of them. But they're too storybook for him to voice aloud of his own accord. Instead, he lifts his hand again, reaching towards Zhongli to trace the edges of his mark with his fingertip.]
It's a good thing you can hide this, or else you'd have to deal with a lot of questions. [His tone shifts back to something lighter--amused, at the thought of Zhongli having to go about his life with such a large brand of ownership on his neck. Hu Tao would be in hysterics for days.] What am I supposed to do about mine, huh? All my shirts are tailored.
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and he's usually so patient.
a slow smile spreads on his lips. he reaches his hand and closes it over childe's, keeping it near his neck. ]
Mm. The location of it does seem quite deliberate. Heads may turn, but perhaps it isn't so strange for an employee of the Northland Bank to wear the symbol of Mora on their body. You are simply fanatically dedicated to your craft.
[ his smile grows. he's 100% messing and thinks he's funny.
he presses his lips to childe's palm and rests in it for a short moment, reveling in being able to share in such an act. he lowers his hand as he looks to childe again. ]
Now I'd like to ask you. Why do you believe our marks appeared later on rather than on our first meeting?
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He has half a mind to demand that Zhongli keep his mark uncovered as long as Childe has to show his--but the rest of him, the part that hasn't forgotten where they are and how they got there, urges him to lean in, to sink his teeth in and leave far more purposeful signs of his claim. His own neck is still tender from Zhongli's attention earlier; it's tempting to reach up and press with his fingers, to ensure that the bruise he's sporting will last for days.
But Zhongli's asking him a question, so he doesn't. His hand instead comes to rest naturally on the curve of Zhongli's jaw. The tassel of his earring brushes against his fingers; Childe wonders, idly, how Zhongli might look in red.
He searches Zhongli's gaze, contemplative--and a little guarded, something he doesn't try to hide. Open wariness, another paradoxical sign of trust. For anyone else, he'd probably dodge the question, but...]
All I know of this is what you've told me tonight. Your guess is better than mine. [He's quiet again, then, but this pause is purely thoughtful as he decides on his phrasing.] But, if I had to... I'd say it's likely got to do with how we were both hiding who we were, when we met.
[Granted, Childe always owned his identity as a Harbinger, but he'd used that as a purposeful misdirection. And yes, after the reveal, their identities had been thrust into the open. But it took until tonight for them to begin to recognize, and acknowledge, what they mean to each other. The last of their secrets.
He shrugs, then, affecting carelessness. It's a gesture born of habit, an ingrained defense that isn't easily discarded even in the presence of someone he's chosen to trust.]
But what do I know? Maybe it's some kind of prank from the spirit realm.
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anyway, his playfulness ebbs as childe's hand follows the line of his jaw, fingertips spreading into the fine hairs near his neck. zhongli's smile leaves him slowly, and while he's tempted to tip his head into his hand, he lends childe his full attention as he's studied.
he's been under childe's scrutinizing gazes before, often while the wound of zhongli's betrayal was still fresh. there are echoes of that time here in the way childe's eyes bore into him and how he hides his vulnerability behind a façade of blitheness and disregard. zhongli has seen too much of the world to not recognize that behavior and be able to pry it apart, but the situation was more delicate here. it's less about chiding his behaviors and more about establishing feelings of safety and trust in the one thing that zhongli felt he could guarantee.
the brief shine in childe's eyes hides itself away again in that spread of ocean blue, a rare creature cresting and then diving back beneath the waves. i have a hope underneath all of this, zhongli hears it say, and i know better than to think that wishes can be granted without payment.
he listens intently. carefully, he slowly passes his hand into the childe's hair, finally resting his fingers at the back of his head. he's going to disregard those qualifiers entirely. ]
You believe that we continued to conceal our true selves until this evening.
[ confirm or deny. ]
the way my paid ran out and I'm left with like 90% chibi icons lmfdksjghjkhsg
It's the sort of conversation they could spend hours having. Another night, perhaps, and they'd theorize about this over drinks, then tea, the cool breeze from the night sea wrapping around them. But it's not really what he wants to get into right now--not when Zhongli is still so temptingly close, his decorated skin within easy reach.
(Not when his touch is so gentle, his gaze piercing and knowing.)
He shrugs again, but he leans a little into the touch, and doesn't pull his own hand away from Zhongli either. Accepting, even if his guard isn't fully down. But then, it never is, even when he's alone.]
"Believe" is a strong word. [His lips quirk, like he knows Zhongli's looking for a straight answer that he's not giving.] But if you don't know for sure, then I think it's as good a theory as any.
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[ childe is being evasive still. zhongli isn't the type to press or pry, only remember and gently remind later on when the dust has settled. it seemed that childe remembered where they were and why—how on the surface, all of what they were doing was a silent admittance to their feelings for one another. for now, that was enough.
zhongli cranes childe closer to him as he leans forward. the other hand reaches blindly for his side, fingers brushing over his bare ribs before he lays down his palm. he traces it down to the soft curve in childe's waist. ]
I like your theory. It has merit, at least from my perspective. ...I was more honest with you this evening than I have been since we've met.
[ even if it was inopportune, showing up in the middle of dinner and just before childe made his breakthrough with the fonts fontanian representative. though it inconvenienced him, zhongli might consider it a bit of revenge for using him as a tool, aside from the part where childe was a stumbling and blushing mess throughout the evening.
how long might they have gone on dancing around one another if they hadn't appeared? he wonders for a brief flicker of a moment, and then he decides to table it along with everything else. his eyes dart to childe's mouth, red and supple. he remembers the feeling of it between his teeth. ]
...Or perhaps they appeared at precisely the moment they were meant to and nothing more.
[ he will leave it there, because that ache and burn is difficult to suppress the longer he looks. zhongli kisses him fervently and presses him back onto the sheets. he slots again between his legs, hips rocked upward to meet him. the hand at the back of childe's hair, pressed between his head and the pillow, tightens again into a fist. he bites down on his lip, pressing just enough to break skin, a copper tang bursting where his tongue presses against it.
he still wants him deeply, and has for too long to sacrifice that. ]
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He knows it's true, of course. The same is true for him, even if he'd avoided giving Zhongli a direct answer out on deck. Truthfully, if not for the appearance of the marks, he probably would have continued to dodge around his feelings, leaving the awkward revelations of the evening untouched forever. But it's something else to hear it straight from Zhongli--to know that he hadn't been alone in his distant wanting.
He lets Zhongli draw him close, watching the path of his gaze and failing to suppress his slight smile. Since he's watching, it's not a surprise when Zhongli moves in to kiss him again, and he meets him easily, warm and welcoming. He hesitates for a minute as Zhongli pushes against him, but his back hits the bed before he can decide whether he wants to put up a fight, and the decision is made for him.
He doesn't mind, though. Everything still feels a little too tender after that discussion, like he's all raw nerves and open wounds waiting for salt. For once, he'll gladly, knowingly, follow Zhongli's lead.
He makes a low noise of appreciation, lifting his hips to meet Zhongli's as his hand drops down to grip his shoulder. The sting of pain and the taste of blood are paradoxically calming; Zhongli's grip is iron-tight, and yet, it feels a little like he's being indulged. Spoiled, even.
He'd had intentions, earlier--sly plans, desires that still burn under his skin, easily revived by the heavy passion in Zhongli's kiss. But he's too impatient to carry any of them out now. He squeezes Zhongli's shoulder before he drops both of his hands down to Zhongli's pants, blindly searching for the fastenings to get them off. He's done with teasing and playing, at least for now.]
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zhongli kisses him, head canted, breathing in. again, childe is receptive more than greedy, giving zhongli his reigns and only responding in kind as if he had been waiting for this. after all of that talk of pain and longing, to feel indulged himself is sweet. it's unfamiliar, but it reads as a show of precious trust. zhongli almost thinks of pulling away, going slower, savoring him, but he had wanted the blood on his lip and hair twisted in his fingers. he still wants to drive him mad, if he can.
some part of him had wanted to revive those dark intentions and desires, thinking that they're what childe wants from him and something easily granted. still, even if childe doesn't respond, the sound of his moan in zhongli's mouth is more than enough.
childe's hands blindly go to the front of his trousers, unbuttoning and opening with urgency as zhongli pushes his hot tongue past his lips. there's a moment of his, touching teeth, still tasting blood as it beads on his lip. still bracing his arm beside childe's head, zhongli slowly ends their kiss, licking traces of saliva from his lips. then his mouth travels downward, briefly closing over the angry, pulsing mark on childe's neck. he turns his head, does the same to the opposite side near his collarbone, and sucks a bruise onto his skin.
his hands grasp the belt loops of childe's pants, pulling them down to his knees if he allows it. ]
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He shudders as he curls his fingers, as if touching Zhongli brings him the same level of pleasure that touching himself would. Instinctively, he tries to look down, but it's impossible when Zhongli's got his teeth in him--more importantly, when Childe doesn't want him to stop.
There isn't a single person on this ship who isn't going to know what happened in here when they leave this room. They are extremely lucky that Childe finds that thought exhilarating.
His free hand finds its way back into Zhongli's hair; if there's anything left of his lovely style from earlier, it's not going to last much longer. It's a little awkward, then, since he doesn't want to let go of Zhongli, but Childe does lift his hips up to make it easier. Zhongli can do whatever he likes with their clothes--at this point, Childe's pretty sure Zhongli could shred them and talk him into swimming back to the city.]
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childe's ministrations don't last long. zhongli reaches for his wrist and squeezes for him to let go. hopefully he does; if so, zhongli is free to sit up on his knees, close childe's legs in front of him, and move his legs beside one of his hips. childe's pants come up and off quickly, fingers scraping as they travel from thigh to ankle. afterwards, his pants are tossed elsewhere on the floor.
the thought of lube should have come to mind earlier. there's nothing that they can use here, at least to his knowledge. he closes his eyes and quickly wets three long fingers in his mouth. they drip as they come apart from his lips, and he dives them again between childe's legs.
zhongli presses his middle finger to childe's entrance, prodding gently before he twists it inside. the tightness draws him in, hot and pulsing. he pushes down to his knuckle and presses his palm between childe's legs.
he pauses, letting the feeling sit as he watches childe acclimate to the feeling. briefly, childe's murmured words from earlier come to mind, skipping a shiver down his spine. don't be gentle. part of him wonders if he shouldn't stop at all. perhaps he should give into the inclination to keep rocking his hand in and out of him, find where it pleases him the most, fuck him relentlessly with his fingers. what would he look like? how would he sound?
zhongli cleans his lips again, his throat dry. his resolve to act civilly rebuilt itself when they talked about guizhong, and again those fissures were opening. he remembered the way childe gasped and hummed and arched against the wall, scraping his back and sucking his fingers. irresistible, he thinks, wrapping his free fingers around childe's cock and tugging.
everyone outside would see the mark on his neck, if they didn't suspect them already. none of them mattered to him in this moment. ]
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nice fall out boy reference
JHDFKJSHGK I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE
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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
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