[ 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. ]
[It's mostly curiosity that has him acquiescing--but even as he lets Zhongli pull his wrist away, his eyes narrow, sharp and assessing. He's a patient man, but he has his limits. He wants to touch. Zhongli had better have a good reason for stopping him.
That watchful expression falls off his face quickly, though, replaced by open surprise. He watches with wide, dark eyes and parted, bloodied lips as Zhongli wets his fingers. Even so, it's not until Zhongli's back between his legs that he truly registers what's going on--when he does, his hands fly to Zhongli's shoulders, searching for purchase in dark, glowing skin.
Somehow, despite everything, he hadn't actually thought they'd do this here. But Zhongli's surprised him so many times tonight. What's one more to add to the pile?]
Fuck-- Zhongli--
[Any little quips or comments he would normally make are entirely lost, all his attention centered on Zhongli's nimble fingers. Every movement he makes seems to channel electricity straight through his nerves, whether it's twisting on the bed to help Zhongli adjust the angle of his fingers or pressing his hips upwards to keep Zhongli's hand on his cock.
Fortunately for them both, Childe is almost unnaturally adaptable--between that and his pain tolerance (preference?), it's not that long before the sounds he's making are pleased and encouraging. Don't be gentle, he'd said, and it's clear that that wasn't just false bravado.
Being immensely turned on probably helps too.
Unable to help himself, he uses his grip on Zhongli's shoulders to pull himself up, just far enough to look down at what Zhongli's doing.]
Fuck. [Again--but much more reverent this time, transfixed by the sight of Zhongli's burnished skin in contrast to his own. The scars on Childe's legs tell their own stories, sure. But Zhongli's beauty feels like something he can't fully process. As if every time Childe looks at him, it's no less impactful than the first.
Gods, he's a fool. What else could it be but love?]
[ childe brings down his defenses so quickly already. not "xiansheng"—again he says his own name, his carefully crafted identity that was just as real as "tartaglia." he might have missed the endearing nickname, but to have childe call for him now like it was impossible not to, like it was one of the only words in his mind, like they were equals... zhongli can't help the firing of his nerves, the drying of his mouth, the aching want that spears through his body. he's hard enough that the pulsing of his cock is almost painful. precum gathers and slips from the head of his cock and onto childe's pale and opened inner thigh.
his finger begins to move quickly, turning and curling, whether at the behest of childe's rolling hips or not. he squeezes childe's cock, working it to full and drooling hardness. a second wet finger slides in beside the first, and after he feels childe's body give around him, the pace quickens again.
to childe's chagrin, he releases his cock and instead pushes the orange hair from childe's forehead, smoothing it back against his head. he wants to see the full curve of childe's face as he fucks him this way, the way he's groaning and wanting and looking at their moving bodies with awe.
the image of childe this way burns into his memory: watching and moaning and moving against him. he's lithe and supple, littered with scars and bites and bruises. his hair is disheveled from zhongli's fingers, his earring haphazardly curled into his hair. beautiful, handsome, winsome. all his, he hopes. at least for now.
zhongli is only able to crane his head so far as he works childe open, pace quickening, seeking more. his amber eyes are fixed on childe's expressions, darting from eyes to open mouth. he leans in to meet his face with his, brushing foreheads and noses, though their lips can't do more but graze agonizingly as he speaks again. he's still sitting back against the bed; the length of his arm can only reach so far. it's a tease that almost heightens his desire. ]
There. [ he murmurs, voice steady despite the erratic movements of his arm. ] That's the look I've been searching for.
[ his hand slows, and a third wet finger pushes inside. his movements begin slowly at first, though they pick up speed more quickly than before. he kisses the middle of childe's chest. ]
[Childe is the furthest thing from shy. It means he's unashamed of letting his voice be heard, soft cries and low moans falling freely from his lips. It takes such effort to keep himself even partially upright, but he can't tear his eyes away. Zhongli pushes another finger into him, and Childe can't help raking his nails down Zhongli's arm, clinging to it like a lifeline as his focus narrows to the steady build of pleasure deep within him.
He can't stop himself from whining when Zhongli lets go of his cock, and that would've been a little embarrassing earlier on in the evening. But now, he's too worked up to care, and he simply drops his other hand to pick up where Zhongli left off. His grip is tight and his pace is relentless, though whether it's habit or desperation is impossible to tell. He could so easily come like this--stroking himself to the press of Zhongli's fingers inside of him, Zhongli's soulmark on his hip and his blood on Zhongli's tongue.
Zhongli speaks, then, and Childe makes the mistake of looking at his face. He's not prepared for the sight of those stunningly vibrant eyes, so intent and possessive. Zhongli looks like he could stay just like this, watching him for daysmonthscenturies, and never want him any less than he does right now.
He forces himself to let go of his own cock despite the painful pulse of unmet desire that lances through him. Reaching down, he grabs Zhongli's face, using all his strengths to drag him up until he's close--close enough that Childe can dip forward and catch Zhongli's lip with his teeth, biting hard, just as Zhongli had done to him earlier. When he pulls back, his mouth is flecked with gold.]
Then don't. [His voice, broken by sharp, quick breaths, is fierce, equal parts desire and defiance. Always, always pushing the limits, concocting a challenge when there isn't one to be found already.] I can handle it.
[Don't be gentle, he'd said. Don't make me feel weak, he'd meant.]
[ the sounds are maddening, wanton and unbridled, sometimes catching and releasing from childe's throat in gasps and moans. and still childe holds himself up for leverage, enraptured by the sight of everything below. zhongli shudders as his nails rake down his arm, hardly painful but still deep enough to draw beads of golden blood under gently torn skin, some of it gathered beneath childe's fingernails. even that needy, upset whine and childe's desperate hand working his cock make his desire fight relentlessly under his ribs.
if childe wanted to push him over the edge just to see what would happen, he may get his wish, even if it's entirely unintentional.
they lock eyes, and for a moment childe looks as entranced and wide-eyed as he had when zhongli made his confession. then he forces zhongli closer, at the same time pulling his fingers from inside of childe. it's quick and greedy, a fevered response to that look in his eye. before zhongli can respond, childe is already painfully biting down on his plush and swollen lip. the skin parts open and blood rushes to meet him and paint the tip of his tongue. the taste is still made of metal, like running one's tongue on the salted surface of a stone.
when the kiss breaks, golden ichor wells on his lip where childe had bitten, smeared on childe's mouth as he speaks. zhongli hardly feels the ache from that bite, all senses and all attention pinpointed on his tartaglia, demanding to be devoured between his labored breaths. his arousal is a fire burning beneath his skin.
zhongli cants his head and crushes his lips against childe's, both hands pushing splaying and grasp at his hair as he fully climbs over him. their tongues meet with renewed fervor, pushing against the crowns of their teeth, mingling the taste of blood. he needs this single, desperate kiss; he'd held this feeling back for what felt like an age. for once in his lifetime, words won't do it justice.
blindly, he reaches down again and raises childe's hips, hands pushing the backs of his thighs. his cock slides against the cleft between his legs, the head grazing against his testicles, hot and smooth. their desperate kiss breaks and zhongli's tongue pushes on top of his lip, drawing it into his mouth, swiping it clean. he stands on his knees and takes the base of his cock in his hand, pressing the leaking head to his entrance.
a bead of sweat draws a line down his temple of his jaw, his hair sprawled behind his back and over his shoulders. he sighs and gives a low groan as watches his cock sink too quickly inside, pulled into white-hot, pulsing heat. ]
[He's so caught up in the ferocity of Zhongli's kiss that he barely notices his back hitting the sheets again, but it's almost a relief to feel it. Control issues, he'd been tempted to tease Zhongli earlier. But he isn't so different himself, and submission is more palatable than surrender.
He lets his head fall back when they break apart, catching his breath in the time it takes for Zhongli to arrange him how he wants. Briefly, he entertains the thought of lashing out one more time--of hooking his legs around Zhongli's waist to flip them over, of taking Zhongli's cock in hand and sinking down on it himself, with Zhongli helpless beneath him--but the temptation crumbles at the open desire on Zhongli's face, and he keeps his legs relaxed and parted as Zhongli fucks into him.
It burns, of course. Spit and precum aren't really enough, and it's too late to grab his Vision and get creative now. But Childe doesn't mind. In truth, he enjoys how it keeps him grounded, clears his head enough to help him truly focus on the press of Zhongli's cock inside of him. No matter what happens between them in the future, he wants to remember every second of this.
Besides, Childe is remarkably resilient. His Delusion and his Abyssal transformation haven't killed him yet, and this won't either, even if he does think Zhongli, in all his divine beauty, might be the death of him.
Impulsively, he reaches out to touch Zhongli's soulmark again, smearing it with the golden blood clinging to his fingertips. Zhongli doesn't seem worried about him, which he appreciates. Even so, he murmurs:] Feels good.
[ i can handle it. zhongli was truly faltering in his faculties, taking someone who knowingly pushes their body past reasonable limits at their word. spit and precum aren't enough. despite preparation, there is a drag and almost uncomfortable dryness as he pushes inside of childe, making him sink his teeth into his stinging lip. in truth, there had been some tinge of worry that had been easily lost in the fog of everything else; zhongli is too attentive even now, slaked only by the sight of their bodies between them.
eventually childe's body gives into him, the warmth and wet inside pulling him in. zhongli groans softly, maneuvering to bridge his arms on either side of childe's head. it's hot and pulsing, all-consuming. he pushes deeper, mouth falling open as he shudders and sighs, hair falling over his shoulders. there's the wet smear of a finger against his neck and his eyes blink open to find childe's again. he falls into the blue the same way he's done hundreds of times before.
he's reassuring him, or maybe he isn't and zhongli is reassured regardless. his soulmark burns under childe's finger, searing into his skin. zhongli gives another sigh, this time boring his golden eyes to childe's. he draws his hips back, sliding slowly out of him before thrusting deeply back inside.
nevermind the dryness and drag. it would subside the longer zhongli moves his hips, driving childe back into the mattress, need and desire and greed building in his hips, his stomach, his whole body. he closes his mouth on childe's throat, again beneath his chin, and then over his bloodied lips. ]
Tartaglia. [ he says it again breathlessly like a prayer, lost in him. one of his hands combs into the nest of his hair as he kisses him hard. ]
[It's a reassurance, yes, but a truthful one. From anyone else it would be a lie--hell, even from Childe with anyone else, it probably wouldn't be much more than a platitude. But everything about his body language is open and wanting, sincere in his pleasure for all that it's laced with pain.
It occurs to him, through the haze, that he could probably ask Zhongli for anything in this moment. He has no proof, but somehow, he's absolutely certain that Zhongli would indulge each and every one of his desires, if only he gave voice to them. He meets Zhongli's gaze, and the weight of it keeps him pinned against the bed more effectively than any show of strength ever could.
He hooks his legs over Zhongli's hips for leverage, meeting his thrusts as best he can. Zhongli says his name, and Childe tastes it on his lips when Zhongli bends down to kiss him, hot and fierce. His response is wordless, a deep groan that he pours into Zhongli's mouth.
He lets one hand fall back against the sheets, but he keeps the other curled around Zhongli's neck, the heel of his palm brushing against the mark as they move together. It's almost frighteningly easy, finding a rhythm--but then, maybe that shouldn't be surprising. In his delirium, Childe can't help but think that this easy harmony is the surest proof that Zhongli's right about everything.
But it doesn't even matter anymore, honestly. No one has ever looked at him the way Zhongli has tonight. No one's ever been able to handle him with such graceful strength. The way Zhongli says his name is more than enough to sway his heart.
He turns his head slightly, just enough to break the kiss, though he keeps his mouth pressed to the corner of Zhongli's as he forces his thoughts into coherent words.]
[ it's all a stark contrast from earlier, when every moment came some form of playful resistance and teasing and challenges. the childe from then was all bites and clawing fingers, demanding in his want. now they're both steeped in their desire and affections, moving together desperately. childe clings to him and offers him that beautiful look of awe. zhongli is weak to it, the same way the riptide mark on his neck reacts with sharp heat to childe's tender touch.
he might not have needed to take childe this way. he only needed that languid moan against his lips, childe's clinging legs, his murmuring mouth smeared to the edge of his lips. zhongli would give him anything in the world that he may ask for—and there is much within an archon's ability to give, a big risk to undertake with a member of the fatui. anything to have him.
childe thinks he might come too quickly. a shiver passes through zhongli's spine as he thrusts, his arousal swelling again. if he were more bold, he might have slowed down, teasing with the steady undulation of his hips until childe could no longer bear it. (he might sooner use all of his strength try to push him down and finish the job himself.)
he lifts his hands and grips onto childe's hips, pressing his thumb over where his soulmark burns hot on his skin. he lifts and pushes and sinks himself even deeper inside. he hisses through his teeth and groans softly, again finding that steady rhythm in their hips. he knows that if childe comes, he'll probably follow suit afterward.
he leans down and murmurs into childe's ear, lips brushing the swirl of it: ]
Show me.
[ his breathing is labored and hot, and he quickens his pace. he adjusts his angle of his hips and searches for that one spot of immense pleasure. ]
[It's not praise, exactly, but desire is basically the same thing--it still sends a shock of heat through his body, still makes him shudder and dig his nails into Zhongli like he'll shake apart if he doesn't. Granted, between that low tone and the relentless pleasure that builds with every thrust, Zhongli could probably say whatever he wanted and Childe would find it irresistible.
The first time Zhongli had touched his soulmark, out in the hallway, had been startling. Childe hadn't been prepared for the feeling of Geo energy crystallizing beneath his skin, reacting to Zhongli's touch. He's not used to it now, either, but that's because it seems to amplify everything he's feeling tenfold. It's a feedback loop of sensation--the press of Zhongli's cock within him, the press of his thumb against the mark, the rich cadence of his voice, the warmth of his breath. All of it wipes his mind of everything but Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhongli.
There is something utterly electrifying about keeping his hand on Zhongli's mark, too. Knowing that maybe, just maybe, Zhongli's as overwhelmed as he is.
Childe can't see his face like this, but it doesn't matter. He knows Zhongli looks magnificent, with his glowing eyes and dark arms laced with gold, scars and muscle and sweat. More than that, he looks, feels, powerful. Dangerous.
Maybe Childe would do anything for him, too.
He hadn't been lying about not lasting long. He pants out right there and don't stop, though he can't keep track of what language he's speaking. Snezhnayan, Liyuen, the common tongue--maybe he doesn't actually manage to say anything coherent, and it's all just wordless encouragement. It doesn't take much time before Childe's body tenses up, and the hand he'd tangled in the sheets flies to his cock, desperate to reach his peak.
If Zhongli doesn't stop him, it won't take much for him to come like this, Zhongli's name on his lips like a prayer.]
[ childe shudders beneath him, tightens around him, bites unforgivingly into zhongli's skin nails with his fingernails—every sudden movement as dizzying and arresting as the next. the mark on zhongli's neck swirls with elemental energy, white-hot under childe's palm. every sensation fires his nerves, adrenaline coursing with each give of childe's legs and hips. his pace quickens, and his eyes shut tightly as he presses his forehead to childe's neck for leverage.
without these marks, beyond any of myths and legends or great cosmic forces that bind them, this was inevitable, wasn't it? that zhongli and tartaglia would have one day irrevocably given into one other? he can't help the thought making a home in his heart as they move together, desperate for the other, thinking of nothing and no one else. it may not have been tonight, under these circumstances, on this ship, but someday zhongli would have found his way here. childe would have still come to liyue harbor, first for morax and then for zhongli and liyue. he would have still been arresting and bright, stirring something like aliveness in him, and he would have made him fall in love.
yes, he's overwhelmed. his pace is still steady and deep, held by strength only proffered to a god. childe arches and tightens around him, panting syllables that he can hardly string together. there are some he can recognize, translated quickly through his thoughts, gone seconds later. the supplication of childe's voice, gasping and groaning, is all he can think to process.
zhongli doesn't stop his hand. he puts his full weight back onto his knees and presses his free hand against the bed, raising himself to look. his eyes scale down the canvas of beautiful, heavily scarred skin, painted in white streaks, glossed with sweat. childe's hips jolt as he comes across his stomach and chest, tightening around his cock and pulling him in deeper. his name on childe's gently swollen lips, moaned in a single long breath, runs electric through his body, into every limb. tartaglia is everything, his image behind his eyelids, the exact company his lonely heart had sought. lost in the damp heat surrounding them both, zhongli can't bear it any longer.
childe finishes beneath him, and zhongli groans again as pleasure shocks between his hips. he draws back from childe's body, lowering him back against the bed before standing on his knees. he grasps his cock and strokes himself to his shaking climax, sucking in breath through his teeth. his mouth falls open and he tips back his head, and his come spills over childe's stomach, painting over his fingers and cock. ]
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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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That watchful expression falls off his face quickly, though, replaced by open surprise. He watches with wide, dark eyes and parted, bloodied lips as Zhongli wets his fingers. Even so, it's not until Zhongli's back between his legs that he truly registers what's going on--when he does, his hands fly to Zhongli's shoulders, searching for purchase in dark, glowing skin.
Somehow, despite everything, he hadn't actually thought they'd do this here. But Zhongli's surprised him so many times tonight. What's one more to add to the pile?]
Fuck-- Zhongli--
[Any little quips or comments he would normally make are entirely lost, all his attention centered on Zhongli's nimble fingers. Every movement he makes seems to channel electricity straight through his nerves, whether it's twisting on the bed to help Zhongli adjust the angle of his fingers or pressing his hips upwards to keep Zhongli's hand on his cock.
Fortunately for them both, Childe is almost unnaturally adaptable--between that and his pain tolerance (preference?), it's not that long before the sounds he's making are pleased and encouraging. Don't be gentle, he'd said, and it's clear that that wasn't just false bravado.
Being immensely turned on probably helps too.
Unable to help himself, he uses his grip on Zhongli's shoulders to pull himself up, just far enough to look down at what Zhongli's doing.]
Fuck. [Again--but much more reverent this time, transfixed by the sight of Zhongli's burnished skin in contrast to his own. The scars on Childe's legs tell their own stories, sure. But Zhongli's beauty feels like something he can't fully process. As if every time Childe looks at him, it's no less impactful than the first.
Gods, he's a fool. What else could it be but love?]
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his finger begins to move quickly, turning and curling, whether at the behest of childe's rolling hips or not. he squeezes childe's cock, working it to full and drooling hardness. a second wet finger slides in beside the first, and after he feels childe's body give around him, the pace quickens again.
to childe's chagrin, he releases his cock and instead pushes the orange hair from childe's forehead, smoothing it back against his head. he wants to see the full curve of childe's face as he fucks him this way, the way he's groaning and wanting and looking at their moving bodies with awe.
the image of childe this way burns into his memory: watching and moaning and moving against him. he's lithe and supple, littered with scars and bites and bruises. his hair is disheveled from zhongli's fingers, his earring haphazardly curled into his hair. beautiful, handsome, winsome. all his, he hopes. at least for now.
zhongli is only able to crane his head so far as he works childe open, pace quickening, seeking more. his amber eyes are fixed on childe's expressions, darting from eyes to open mouth. he leans in to meet his face with his, brushing foreheads and noses, though their lips can't do more but graze agonizingly as he speaks again. he's still sitting back against the bed; the length of his arm can only reach so far. it's a tease that almost heightens his desire. ]
There. [ he murmurs, voice steady despite the erratic movements of his arm. ] That's the look I've been searching for.
[ his hand slows, and a third wet finger pushes inside. his movements begin slowly at first, though they pick up speed more quickly than before. he kisses the middle of childe's chest. ]
I can't resist you for much longer.
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He can't stop himself from whining when Zhongli lets go of his cock, and that would've been a little embarrassing earlier on in the evening. But now, he's too worked up to care, and he simply drops his other hand to pick up where Zhongli left off. His grip is tight and his pace is relentless, though whether it's habit or desperation is impossible to tell. He could so easily come like this--stroking himself to the press of Zhongli's fingers inside of him, Zhongli's soulmark on his hip and his blood on Zhongli's tongue.
Zhongli speaks, then, and Childe makes the mistake of looking at his face. He's not prepared for the sight of those stunningly vibrant eyes, so intent and possessive. Zhongli looks like he could stay just like this, watching him for daysmonthscenturies, and never want him any less than he does right now.
He forces himself to let go of his own cock despite the painful pulse of unmet desire that lances through him. Reaching down, he grabs Zhongli's face, using all his strengths to drag him up until he's close--close enough that Childe can dip forward and catch Zhongli's lip with his teeth, biting hard, just as Zhongli had done to him earlier. When he pulls back, his mouth is flecked with gold.]
Then don't. [His voice, broken by sharp, quick breaths, is fierce, equal parts desire and defiance. Always, always pushing the limits, concocting a challenge when there isn't one to be found already.] I can handle it.
[Don't be gentle, he'd said. Don't make me feel weak, he'd meant.]
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if childe wanted to push him over the edge just to see what would happen, he may get his wish, even if it's entirely unintentional.
they lock eyes, and for a moment childe looks as entranced and wide-eyed as he had when zhongli made his confession. then he forces zhongli closer, at the same time pulling his fingers from inside of childe. it's quick and greedy, a fevered response to that look in his eye. before zhongli can respond, childe is already painfully biting down on his plush and swollen lip. the skin parts open and blood rushes to meet him and paint the tip of his tongue. the taste is still made of metal, like running one's tongue on the salted surface of a stone.
when the kiss breaks, golden ichor wells on his lip where childe had bitten, smeared on childe's mouth as he speaks. zhongli hardly feels the ache from that bite, all senses and all attention pinpointed on his tartaglia, demanding to be devoured between his labored breaths. his arousal is a fire burning beneath his skin.
zhongli cants his head and crushes his lips against childe's, both hands pushing splaying and grasp at his hair as he fully climbs over him. their tongues meet with renewed fervor, pushing against the crowns of their teeth, mingling the taste of blood. he needs this single, desperate kiss; he'd held this feeling back for what felt like an age. for once in his lifetime, words won't do it justice.
blindly, he reaches down again and raises childe's hips, hands pushing the backs of his thighs. his cock slides against the cleft between his legs, the head grazing against his testicles, hot and smooth. their desperate kiss breaks and zhongli's tongue pushes on top of his lip, drawing it into his mouth, swiping it clean. he stands on his knees and takes the base of his cock in his hand, pressing the leaking head to his entrance.
a bead of sweat draws a line down his temple of his jaw, his hair sprawled behind his back and over his shoulders. he sighs and gives a low groan as watches his cock sink too quickly inside, pulled into white-hot, pulsing heat. ]
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He lets his head fall back when they break apart, catching his breath in the time it takes for Zhongli to arrange him how he wants. Briefly, he entertains the thought of lashing out one more time--of hooking his legs around Zhongli's waist to flip them over, of taking Zhongli's cock in hand and sinking down on it himself, with Zhongli helpless beneath him--but the temptation crumbles at the open desire on Zhongli's face, and he keeps his legs relaxed and parted as Zhongli fucks into him.
It burns, of course. Spit and precum aren't really enough, and it's too late to grab his Vision and get creative now. But Childe doesn't mind. In truth, he enjoys how it keeps him grounded, clears his head enough to help him truly focus on the press of Zhongli's cock inside of him. No matter what happens between them in the future, he wants to remember every second of this.
Besides, Childe is remarkably resilient. His Delusion and his Abyssal transformation haven't killed him yet, and this won't either, even if he does think Zhongli, in all his divine beauty, might be the death of him.
Impulsively, he reaches out to touch Zhongli's soulmark again, smearing it with the golden blood clinging to his fingertips. Zhongli doesn't seem worried about him, which he appreciates. Even so, he murmurs:] Feels good.
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eventually childe's body gives into him, the warmth and wet inside pulling him in. zhongli groans softly, maneuvering to bridge his arms on either side of childe's head. it's hot and pulsing, all-consuming. he pushes deeper, mouth falling open as he shudders and sighs, hair falling over his shoulders. there's the wet smear of a finger against his neck and his eyes blink open to find childe's again. he falls into the blue the same way he's done hundreds of times before.
he's reassuring him, or maybe he isn't and zhongli is reassured regardless. his soulmark burns under childe's finger, searing into his skin. zhongli gives another sigh, this time boring his golden eyes to childe's. he draws his hips back, sliding slowly out of him before thrusting deeply back inside.
nevermind the dryness and drag. it would subside the longer zhongli moves his hips, driving childe back into the mattress, need and desire and greed building in his hips, his stomach, his whole body. he closes his mouth on childe's throat, again beneath his chin, and then over his bloodied lips. ]
Tartaglia. [ he says it again breathlessly like a prayer, lost in him. one of his hands combs into the nest of his hair as he kisses him hard. ]
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It occurs to him, through the haze, that he could probably ask Zhongli for anything in this moment. He has no proof, but somehow, he's absolutely certain that Zhongli would indulge each and every one of his desires, if only he gave voice to them. He meets Zhongli's gaze, and the weight of it keeps him pinned against the bed more effectively than any show of strength ever could.
He hooks his legs over Zhongli's hips for leverage, meeting his thrusts as best he can. Zhongli says his name, and Childe tastes it on his lips when Zhongli bends down to kiss him, hot and fierce. His response is wordless, a deep groan that he pours into Zhongli's mouth.
He lets one hand fall back against the sheets, but he keeps the other curled around Zhongli's neck, the heel of his palm brushing against the mark as they move together. It's almost frighteningly easy, finding a rhythm--but then, maybe that shouldn't be surprising. In his delirium, Childe can't help but think that this easy harmony is the surest proof that Zhongli's right about everything.
But it doesn't even matter anymore, honestly. No one has ever looked at him the way Zhongli has tonight. No one's ever been able to handle him with such graceful strength. The way Zhongli says his name is more than enough to sway his heart.
He turns his head slightly, just enough to break the kiss, though he keeps his mouth pressed to the corner of Zhongli's as he forces his thoughts into coherent words.]
M'not gonna last long.
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he might not have needed to take childe this way. he only needed that languid moan against his lips, childe's clinging legs, his murmuring mouth smeared to the edge of his lips. zhongli would give him anything in the world that he may ask for—and there is much within an archon's ability to give, a big risk to undertake with a member of the fatui. anything to have him.
childe thinks he might come too quickly. a shiver passes through zhongli's spine as he thrusts, his arousal swelling again. if he were more bold, he might have slowed down, teasing with the steady undulation of his hips until childe could no longer bear it. (he might sooner use all of his strength try to push him down and finish the job himself.)
he lifts his hands and grips onto childe's hips, pressing his thumb over where his soulmark burns hot on his skin. he lifts and pushes and sinks himself even deeper inside. he hisses through his teeth and groans softly, again finding that steady rhythm in their hips. he knows that if childe comes, he'll probably follow suit afterward.
he leans down and murmurs into childe's ear, lips brushing the swirl of it: ]
Show me.
[ his breathing is labored and hot, and he quickens his pace. he adjusts his angle of his hips and searches for that one spot of immense pleasure. ]
I want to see you when you come.
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The first time Zhongli had touched his soulmark, out in the hallway, had been startling. Childe hadn't been prepared for the feeling of Geo energy crystallizing beneath his skin, reacting to Zhongli's touch. He's not used to it now, either, but that's because it seems to amplify everything he's feeling tenfold. It's a feedback loop of sensation--the press of Zhongli's cock within him, the press of his thumb against the mark, the rich cadence of his voice, the warmth of his breath. All of it wipes his mind of everything but Zhongli, Zhongli, Zhongli.
There is something utterly electrifying about keeping his hand on Zhongli's mark, too. Knowing that maybe, just maybe, Zhongli's as overwhelmed as he is.
Childe can't see his face like this, but it doesn't matter. He knows Zhongli looks magnificent, with his glowing eyes and dark arms laced with gold, scars and muscle and sweat. More than that, he looks, feels, powerful. Dangerous.
Maybe Childe would do anything for him, too.
He hadn't been lying about not lasting long. He pants out right there and don't stop, though he can't keep track of what language he's speaking. Snezhnayan, Liyuen, the common tongue--maybe he doesn't actually manage to say anything coherent, and it's all just wordless encouragement. It doesn't take much time before Childe's body tenses up, and the hand he'd tangled in the sheets flies to his cock, desperate to reach his peak.
If Zhongli doesn't stop him, it won't take much for him to come like this, Zhongli's name on his lips like a prayer.]
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without these marks, beyond any of myths and legends or great cosmic forces that bind them, this was inevitable, wasn't it? that zhongli and tartaglia would have one day irrevocably given into one other? he can't help the thought making a home in his heart as they move together, desperate for the other, thinking of nothing and no one else. it may not have been tonight, under these circumstances, on this ship, but someday zhongli would have found his way here. childe would have still come to liyue harbor, first for morax and then for zhongli and liyue. he would have still been arresting and bright, stirring something like aliveness in him, and he would have made him fall in love.
yes, he's overwhelmed. his pace is still steady and deep, held by strength only proffered to a god. childe arches and tightens around him, panting syllables that he can hardly string together. there are some he can recognize, translated quickly through his thoughts, gone seconds later. the supplication of childe's voice, gasping and groaning, is all he can think to process.
zhongli doesn't stop his hand. he puts his full weight back onto his knees and presses his free hand against the bed, raising himself to look. his eyes scale down the canvas of beautiful, heavily scarred skin, painted in white streaks, glossed with sweat. childe's hips jolt as he comes across his stomach and chest, tightening around his cock and pulling him in deeper. his name on childe's gently swollen lips, moaned in a single long breath, runs electric through his body, into every limb. tartaglia is everything, his image behind his eyelids, the exact company his lonely heart had sought. lost in the damp heat surrounding them both, zhongli can't bear it any longer.
childe finishes beneath him, and zhongli groans again as pleasure shocks between his hips. he draws back from childe's body, lowering him back against the bed before standing on his knees. he grasps his cock and strokes himself to his shaking climax, sucking in breath through his teeth. his mouth falls open and he tips back his head, and his come spills over childe's stomach, painting over his fingers and cock. ]
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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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