[ it's very like him, and it's innocuous enough that zhongli can let it slide.
he looks at the corner of his desk, unseeing as he gathers his thoughts. he idly rubs the corner of a piece of paper between his fingers. he's smiling, eyes half-lidded. ]
There is a vendor who will occasionally make her rounds at Bubu Pharmacy. Her mixtures are a rare find made by her own hands. She offers Baizhu a small commission in exchange for selling her wares under the table.
One in particular is very interesting. She's created a topical mixed with powdered flaming flower stamens and mist flower corollas. The makeup of the substance is such that the mixture cools and warms in succession, and the effects last for quite a long time. The fluid itself is thick, and it's surprisingly mild enough to be edible. The flavor is sweet. It was made for aches and pains, but according to Baizhu, it's particularly popular among couples.
[ he folds and creases the edge of the paper. ]
Needless to say, I've procured a vial of my own. I sampled it last night, thinking of you. I can certainly see the appeal.
[Truthfully, Zhongli could've chosen to talk about anything. He does like Zhongli's voice--it's always so warm and decadent, no matter what it is he's actually saying. The insinuations in Zhongli's messages were clear as day, but if Zhongli had decided to tease him and start rambling about something innocuous, he would've been happy to listen anyway.
But he's certainly not complaining. Childe's always had a vivid imagination, and immediately, his mind fills with images and possibilities. Zhongli alone in his bed, testing his new purchase on his wrists, his neck, his thighs--intimate and sensitive, but carefully prudent all the same. Zhongli slicking his palm with it and taking himself in hand, shivering under its effects. Zhongli with his fingers in his mouth, eyes closed, lost to fantasy.
He hadn't known Zhongli would enjoy something like that. Now that he does, he's already planning to get his hands on as many variations of it as possible. Being rich has its advantages.
True to his word, he stays quiet. The only sign that he's listening is the deep, steadying breath he takes. But really, his silence is more of a sign of his rapt attention than any rule-breaking would've been.]
[ zhongli takes a brief pause, listening. once he hears that long breath, he continues again. good. ]
This woman is clever. She sells small vials, meant for one or two uses, and then a larger bottle.
[ childe may hear as zhongli carefully opens the small satchel laid on his desk. hu tao is gone. his doors are locked. he sets the bottle on his desk. ]
I decided to buy the bottle, if it interests you. I have it with me now, in fact.
[ he gets up to pull the shades over his windows. ]
Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is empty for the day, with the exception of myself. Perhaps you might like to hear a demonstration.
[ he's smiling again—snidely now. he settles slowly back into his chair, and tucks the phone between his ear and a raised shoulder. as he speaks, he picks the gloves off his fingers and peels them away from the heel of his hands. ]
I'm glad you're still there. I hope you're all right.
[ it's a little facetious. childe does not sound all right, but not in a bad way. at least not to zhongli.
hands bared, he reaches to hold his phone as he slowly undoes the front clasps of his coat. his head is still tipped to the phone at his shoulder, gold eyes slanted towards the side of the room. he can see childe in his mind's eye—the backdrop a vague and murmuring blur, him sitting with the phone to his cheek, red-faced and biting his lip.
he takes a deep, satisfied breath that bleeds into his first few words. ]
I wonder how long you'll last, hearing me this way and knowing you can do nothing? You do enjoy being challenged.
[ childe will hear shifting clothes, coats drawn away from shoulders and laid over the back of his chair. ]
Perhaps you'll make me wait until I come without you.
["I hope you're alright," he says! Honestly, even though Zhongli's riling him up, the harder part is not being able to quip back at him. He can stay quiet when Zhongli's painting vivid, obscene pictures in his mind; for now, not being able to banter with him is much more difficult.
But Zhongli's right--he does love being challenged, loves finding every single one of his limits and figuring out what it takes to surpass them. This whole thing would have worked him up regardless, but adding a layer of challenge on top of it? Leave it to Zhongli to know all the best-worst ways to tease him.
Despite his surprise, he won't give in that easily, other than to make a quiet sound of reassurance that means yes, I'm fine, you ass (affectionate). He heard the blinds a few moments ago, and the soft thud of glass on wood, and he can hear the unmistakable rustle of fabric now, and--gods, he's never truly prepared for anything when it comes to Zhongli, is he. Just as easily as Zhongli's last little story, he can see it in his head so, so clearly. The dim lighting of the office, as Zhongli carefully sets his coat aside. Does he keep spare clothes in his office? Or is he going to take--is he--will he just--
--Well, it depends on what he means by a "demonstration", doesn't he? He'll have to find out. A part of him doubts that Zhongli would ever actually do something bold in his place of work, even if no one is around to catch him. But then--all of Liyue is his, isn't it? Even if he renounced his claim, who's to tell him what he can and can't do, wherever and whenever he wants to do it?
He went about this terribly. He should've bargained, should've asked to be allowed a few questions. But no, he rushed in, and now Zhongli's right--he can't do anything unless he wants to lose their little game. And while he wouldn't actually mind that, ending it so early would interrupt their fun, so. Just as Zhongli imagines, he bites his lip and shifts in his seat, but he keeps quiet.]
[ childe is quiet except for the light sound of his breath gusting against the receiver. there's no real reaction thus far other than the phone being dropped. zhongli's patience is normally second to none—although childe has made himself an exception at times. they'll have to see who wins out.
right now, zhongli isn't worried. childe is wondering how far he would go inside of his own office, and maybe the question should be turned back on himself: how long would it take for childe to break?
zhongli has the phone propped back against his ear while he rolls up his sleeves. he's drawing this out as long as he can. ]
I'm trying to decide... Should my shirt be opened? I would have to loosen my tie as well. Perhaps you would pull the knot from my hair, as you are wont to do.
[ he lays his diamond brooch on the desk, loosens his tie down to his collarbone. warmth creeps up his neck at the thought that childe is listening all the while. careful, zhongli. ]
...What would you truly do to me, if you were here in this room? Would you be thrilled by the risk of being discovered? Would you move slowly, or would I have you over my desk or against my door, with your hands tearing at my back? That's left for me to imagine, unfortunately. I've gotten quite good at it. ...I wish it wasn't so.
[ with one hand, he opens some of the buttons of his shirt. he slides his fingertips down his stomach with a sigh, slacking his shoulders against the chair behind him. he holds the phone with his hand again, murmuring into it with all sincerity. ]
[Here's what Zhongli may not know: Childe isn't that far away.
Childe, at least, fully believes Zhongli doesn't know his whereabouts. Doesn't know that he's only a building away, holed up in his office and perched near the window. He'd intended to surprise Zhongli at the end of the work day, to catch him on his way out and drag him off to dinner to catch up after their time apart. He'd slipped up in their conversation earlier--in "this" weather, he'd said, catching himself just a moment too late--but Zhongli hadn't said anything about it, and so Childe can only assume he remains unaware.
But the proximity adds a whole new layer of delicious torture to their game. Zhongli might think Childe can do nothing but listen; Childe, on the other hand, is painfully aware of just how easy it would be to vault out onto the walkway and burst in through Zhongli's window. Everything Zhongli describes, everything Childe can imagine with perfect clarity--it's all within reach, should he only give in and go take it.
He's having fun like this, though, walking the knife's edge of temptation the way he always does. Zhongli never forbade him from touching himself while he listens, and he takes advantage of that oversight(?) now, pressing the heel of his palm to his crotch to stave off the arousal thrumming through his body. He wants everything Zhongli's describing--wants to thread his fingers through Zhongli's hair and press his lips to every scar that rests beneath his immaculate clothes. The sight of Zhongli kiss-marked and disheveled is perhaps the most beautiful thing he's ever had the privilege of witnessing, and he aims for it every chance he gets. It's surely not the same when Zhongli's on his own, of course, but Childe pictures it anyway, his mind oscillating between fantasies of the two of them together, and of Zhongli touching himself now. Always so greedy, even in his imagination.
(The window's open, but he's not really that close to it. His staff are still milling around the bank, but his door's locked, and they know better than to disturb him when the door's closed anyway.)
He's not prepared for Zhongli's tone, nor for the way it makes his heart ache. Childe's eyes snap open, and it's only then that he realizes he's closed them.]
Th-- [That's not fair, he almost protests, but he bites his tongue before the words fully escape him. Still, that small slip is probably more than enough to clue Zhongli in on what he'd intended to say.
There's something a little sullen in the silence that follows; he's pouting. What a baby.]
[ zhongli hadn't said anything about childe touching himself, true, but isn't it satisfying to know that childe can't help himself? wouldn't it be sweet to hear him coming apart from the other side, wherever he is?
and besides—zhongli can certainly change his mind. there's nothing that says he can't. he'll just have to listen for the sound of it—shifting clothes, an unbuttoning, the sound of velvet skin slipping wetly through his palm as he groans. it's what he was looking for all along, aside from childe's concession. it would give away that childe might be somewhere outside of the public eye, though...
so maybe it's hard not to be a little aroused by the idea of this. he made a weak attempt to stave it off until now. it's more believable if he's turned on anyway, isn't it?
childe stumbles slightly, biting his tongue just before he speaks. zhongli raises his brows, pleasantly surprised. his smile curves a little higher. he knows what that pause means. what a little baby. ]
Not fair, is it? [ yes, he knows. ] I don't believe I've broken the rules of our game. I am only telling you the whole truth. Do you mean to say that you miss me as well?
[ more goading questions. he closes the fingers of his free hand over the neck of the bottle, popping the cork with his thumb and first finger. he pauses for an answer that he knows isn't coming. ]
...No matter. I am here alone regardless, missing you. Your own hands and thoughts can only go so far to satisfy. I cannot recreate the feeling of your hair gripped in my hand in the way that you love. There is nowhere to sink my teeth into, and I cannot goad myself the way you do. I long to have your legs around me again.
[ warmth prickles him again. he's glad that he opened his shirt collar.
he slowly opens the buttons of his trousers. ]
At least I can remember the way you would call out to me.
[Zhongli can't see him, but Childe makes a sour face anyway. Of course he misses him--Zhongli knows that perfectly well, and it's downright underhanded to prevent him from saying anything about it. And it's not like he doesn't know Zhongli plays dirty, not like Childe didn't willingly sign up to be goaded--but still. Bringing their deeper emotions into this... how cruel.
(And look, yes, Childe wouldn't have it any other way. But still.)
At least Zhongli moves back to the physical after that, more or less. Except that Childe can't settle back down so quickly. The distant sound of the bottle cork startles him, though he'd be hard-pressed to explain why. It's not like he consciously thought Zhongli was faking--but before this, he'd been half-focused on the images Zhongli conjured in his mind. Zhongli's a gifted storyteller, after all, and he'd been happy to let his thoughts go where Zhongli chose to direct them.
Now, even though his scalp tingles with phantom pain, even though his neck aches with the memory of Zhongli's teeth and tongue--he's laser-focused. Listening with near-predatory intent to every rustle of fabric, every possible change in Zhongli's breathing, all the little things that might help him accurately visualize what Zhongli's truly doing. Had he mistaken the sound of Zhongli's coat for something else? Was it his brooch or his hair clasp that he'd put down, a moment ago? Or something else? How much skin is he showing in the privacy of his office, so close by--
It's really hard to radiate the vibes of don't you dare over the phone, but Childe sure is trying his damndest. ("Don't you dare" what? Even he doesn't know.) He may or may not be unconsciously holding his breath, which, honestly, is more of a sign of his rapt attention than any little noises he might've made otherwise.
Honestly, he's not that far from his breaking point--Zhongli got him good with that I miss you. One more critical hit, maybe two, and he'll almost certainly give in.]
[ zhongli's senses are sharpened, all focus in the world brought down to a pinprick: the sound of childe's uneven breaths, the quiet sounds he's made, his slip of the tongue. as if he needed any more of an excuse to center his attention on him.
it's almost enough to draw him away from his intentions. it would be his own version of giving in to take himself in his hand, work himself to full hardness, let childe know he wanted to hear his voice, games be damned.
but he doesn't. there is no sound from the receiver, meaning that childe's anticipation is reaching near it's peak. for zhongli, it's grounding.
he rests his hand around the base of the bottle, idly running his thumb in small strokes over the glass. ]
You've made me into a much greedier creature. I would never ask that you abandon all else or stay with me always. There are only moments where my selfishness gets the better of me. I see the ocean and think of you always, and at times I wish that you were beside me.
[ all of this in earnest. more than he thinks of childe's hair or mouth or hands, he sees all of him at once: a still-life painted into his memory, lovingly and excruciatingly detailed, childe sitting on the banister of the terrace that looks into the square, gathering zhongli's fingers in his hand and smiling like there was nowhere else he belonged but there.
zhongli's chest twists. enough of that.
he slides his hand slowly from his knee down over the inside of his thigh. he grazes his lips against the receiver as he murmurs, voice warm and rumbling: ]
And there are times when I want you until it aches, just as I want you now.
[I'm not as strong as Yaywon I don't have that many reaction pics
Anyways it only takes a couple of minutes before Zhongli, with his Adepti hearing, might hear the sound of the door to the funeral parlor opening (was it closed? did he pick the lock? perhaps) along with purposeful strides down the hall. Like the Jojos walking meme. ドドドド
Is Zhongli going to get up and unlock the door before he gets there or is Childe gonna have to commit crimes for the D]
[ zhongli takes a moment to register that childe's not answering him.
good. he goes ahead and lays the phone on the desk and starts to button his pants again.
and then he'll go ahead and unlock the door. right when childe has entered the building. almost like he knew.
he'll find zhongli back at his desk, closing up a button on the front of his shirt. (he was taking his time with it, but childe doesn't need to know that.) the bottle is still on his desk, its contents a murky and purple liquid.
he seems nonchalant when he looks over at childe at the door, whether he busts it open or not. he feigns surprise. ]
[In a minute, it'll click. In a minute, Zhongli's lack of surprise, the open doors--all of that will register in his mind, and he'll complain about "manipulation" and "the whims of archons" and all those things that have, over time, morphed from genuine pain into something of an inside joke between them. In a minute.
Right now, however, he's a man on a mission. He leaves Zhongli's office door wide open as he stalks across the room. Is Zhongli standing? Sitting? Regardless, Childe's on him without a word. He doesn't stop to process how Zhongli looks, what he's doing, the vial on his desk--none of it. He simply buries one hand in Zhongli's hair, grabs Zhongli's waist with the other, and slots their mouths together with a long, deep kiss.
Eventually, when he has to pull back:]
Your dinner's cancelled. [Xinyan won't mind, if this "prior engagement" is even real to begin with. She likes him.]
[ does any of this surprise him? zhongli braced himself for any number of things: childe breaking the doors for the D (or maybe a window?), yelling or cursing, a sharp crushing of lips, some form of viciousness at the center of his want. childe would want to make him pay, he thought.
maybe he still might. childe clears the doorway without even stopping to look at anything ahead of him. zhongli has only a moment to stand from his chair before he's nearly pulled off of his feet. childe kisses him wonderfully and deeply, and again all else in the universe falls away in his stead. (how precious is that feeling, when for so long you bore the world on your shoulders?)
zhongli responds in kind after a second of finding his bearings. he rests his hand on his shoulder, and his free arm hooks around his waist, hand splayed against the middle of his back. as childe pulls away to speak, zhongli brushes a kiss against the corner of his mouth, waiting to bring his lips back to their rightful place.
childe, childe, childe. it always feels like a lifetime of waiting, being away from him.
he smiles, sidling their noses beside one another. he murmurs, smiling and squeezing childe closer: ]
Ah, about that... It seems I was mistaken. Dinner will be tomorrow night.
[ he def did not forget or mistake anything. he raises his hand from his shoulder to hold his cheek. his eyes fall closed. ]
[Childe's passion can go a long way. More than once, it's carried him through their encounters, derailing plans with the intensity of his arousal (albeit in admittedly satisfying ways). But in moments like these, he can't help but let himself be tempered, like a violent wave breaking against a rocky shoreline and settling in as a gentle tide.
Partings are special moments, he'd once told the Traveler. But so too are reunions. And Childe isn't one to settle, wouldn't know how to even if he'd wanted to try, but--he wonders, sometimes. When he wants nothing more than to press his body to Zhongli's just like this. When the prospect of homecoming nestles into his heart, and memories of frozen seas melt under those of warm lips and gentle hands.
(In the end, he is not his father. He can't settle down to stay. If not because of loyalty, then because of ambition. Sometimes, Childe isn't sure which hurts more: when Zhongli smiles at him, loving and supportive, or when Zhongli can't bear the weight of his longing, lonely in a way only lovers can be.)
He's still fired up, and he shows it in the way he leans back against Zhongli's desk, pulling Zhongli into him and refusing to let go until he's had his fill. But he does, ultimately, let his passion shift into something deeper than simple arousal. He leans into Zhongli's touch, and doesn't resist the urge to turn his face, pressing a warm kiss to his hand.
At Zhongli's words, Childe snorts inelegantly, hiding his grin in Zhongli's palm.]
You, my dear consultant, are the absolute worst. [But his tone is fond, amused. His grip has shifted from a possessive hold into a warm embrace.] I was planning on surprising you.
[ again zhongli is brought under childe's current, a stone spinning along a running river's floor. they've been here many times, where childe drags them to the nearest representation of privacy and pulls them under the surface with a mere murmur of his name. zhongli has only a little more fortitude—it's difficult not to see derailed plans or late attendances as broken promises—but childe makes it so easy to forget. childe may usually be the perpetrator, but zhongli is the one who surrenders as if he'd wanted it all along.
most of the time, anyway. like now, sometimes it was worth it to make childe wait.
there's a palpable shift once their heavy, hungry kiss finally ends. zhongli's eyes slowly come open, and he watches, enamored, as childe drags his lips into his palm. he traces the outline of his profile: brown eyelashes cresting over top of his cheeks, the purple hint of exhaustion in the inner corner of his eye, the sharp slope of his nose, the pale pink apple of his cheek that shines when he grins.
zhongli leans in and kisses it softly, not able to help himself. even while childe is calling him the worst. his affection swells. ]
I see. Forgive me.
[ smile smile. he trails kisses to the edge of childe's eye, over his brow, nosing past his bangs to the center of his forehead. he's obviously not that torn up over it. ]
It can be difficult to ignore the rumblings about the harbor... particularly when they pertain to a certain Snezhnayan diplomat coming back to port.
[ gay, but it's the truth. sometimes it's helpful to memorize the routes of every ship coming in and out of the harbor too, especially when you know which region your boyfriend was shipped off to.
in one fluid move, he reaches down to the back of childe's thighs and slides him up to sit on the edge the desk. (he'd had the good sense to clear out most things before childe's arrival.) he keeps childe flush against him, hips locked between his legs and gathering warmth where they press together.
arousal tightens in the pit of his stomach. zhongli performed for one selfish purpose: to bring ajax back into his arms, wanting him as much as he was missed. zhongli kept his composure at the cost of his desire burgeoning inside of him—an already overgrown tangle of weeds, a need so strong it ached. childe was in liyue, within his reach. he wanted childe to come to him, but maybe he had been teasing himself too.
zhongli tilts his head and takes a deep, hot kiss from childe's mouth. desire falls through his body like a wave of water, reme he slips his hands up to grasp tightly at his ass, fingernails digging into flesh and muscle. he mutters against childe's lips between breathless kisses: ]
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no subject
he looks at the corner of his desk, unseeing as he gathers his thoughts. he idly rubs the corner of a piece of paper between his fingers. he's smiling, eyes half-lidded. ]
There is a vendor who will occasionally make her rounds at Bubu Pharmacy. Her mixtures are a rare find made by her own hands. She offers Baizhu a small commission in exchange for selling her wares under the table.
One in particular is very interesting. She's created a topical mixed with powdered flaming flower stamens and mist flower corollas. The makeup of the substance is such that the mixture cools and warms in succession, and the effects last for quite a long time. The fluid itself is thick, and it's surprisingly mild enough to be edible. The flavor is sweet. It was made for aches and pains, but according to Baizhu, it's particularly popular among couples.
[ he folds and creases the edge of the paper. ]
Needless to say, I've procured a vial of my own. I sampled it last night, thinking of you. I can certainly see the appeal.
no subject
But he's certainly not complaining. Childe's always had a vivid imagination, and immediately, his mind fills with images and possibilities. Zhongli alone in his bed, testing his new purchase on his wrists, his neck, his thighs--intimate and sensitive, but carefully prudent all the same. Zhongli slicking his palm with it and taking himself in hand, shivering under its effects. Zhongli with his fingers in his mouth, eyes closed, lost to fantasy.
He hadn't known Zhongli would enjoy something like that. Now that he does, he's already planning to get his hands on as many variations of it as possible. Being rich has its advantages.
True to his word, he stays quiet. The only sign that he's listening is the deep, steadying breath he takes. But really, his silence is more of a sign of his rapt attention than any rule-breaking would've been.]
no subject
This woman is clever. She sells small vials, meant for one or two uses, and then a larger bottle.
[ childe may hear as zhongli carefully opens the small satchel laid on his desk. hu tao is gone. his doors are locked. he sets the bottle on his desk. ]
I decided to buy the bottle, if it interests you. I have it with me now, in fact.
[ he gets up to pull the shades over his windows. ]
Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is empty for the day, with the exception of myself. Perhaps you might like to hear a demonstration.
[ :) ]
1/2
this may or may not be the reaction Zhongli's looking for
but there's a loud clattering noise that means that Childe definitely dropped his phone on the floor]
2/2
Ahem. He's fine. Continue.]
1/2
it takes a second, but it's not hard to guess what just happened. especially when he hears childe's throat being cleared. ]
2/2
I'm glad you're still there. I hope you're all right.
[ it's a little facetious. childe does not sound all right, but not in a bad way. at least not to zhongli.
hands bared, he reaches to hold his phone as he slowly undoes the front clasps of his coat. his head is still tipped to the phone at his shoulder, gold eyes slanted towards the side of the room. he can see childe in his mind's eye—the backdrop a vague and murmuring blur, him sitting with the phone to his cheek, red-faced and biting his lip.
he takes a deep, satisfied breath that bleeds into his first few words. ]
I wonder how long you'll last, hearing me this way and knowing you can do nothing? You do enjoy being challenged.
[ childe will hear shifting clothes, coats drawn away from shoulders and laid over the back of his chair. ]
Perhaps you'll make me wait until I come without you.
no subject
But Zhongli's right--he does love being challenged, loves finding every single one of his limits and figuring out what it takes to surpass them. This whole thing would have worked him up regardless, but adding a layer of challenge on top of it? Leave it to Zhongli to know all the best-worst ways to tease him.
Despite his surprise, he won't give in that easily, other than to make a quiet sound of reassurance that means yes, I'm fine, you ass (affectionate). He heard the blinds a few moments ago, and the soft thud of glass on wood, and he can hear the unmistakable rustle of fabric now, and--gods, he's never truly prepared for anything when it comes to Zhongli, is he. Just as easily as Zhongli's last little story, he can see it in his head so, so clearly. The dim lighting of the office, as Zhongli carefully sets his coat aside. Does he keep spare clothes in his office? Or is he going to take--is he--will he just--
--Well, it depends on what he means by a "demonstration", doesn't he? He'll have to find out. A part of him doubts that Zhongli would ever actually do something bold in his place of work, even if no one is around to catch him. But then--all of Liyue is his, isn't it? Even if he renounced his claim, who's to tell him what he can and can't do, wherever and whenever he wants to do it?
He went about this terribly. He should've bargained, should've asked to be allowed a few questions. But no, he rushed in, and now Zhongli's right--he can't do anything unless he wants to lose their little game. And while he wouldn't actually mind that, ending it so early would interrupt their fun, so. Just as Zhongli imagines, he bites his lip and shifts in his seat, but he keeps quiet.]
no subject
right now, zhongli isn't worried. childe is wondering how far he would go inside of his own office, and maybe the question should be turned back on himself: how long would it take for childe to break?
zhongli has the phone propped back against his ear while he rolls up his sleeves. he's drawing this out as long as he can. ]
I'm trying to decide... Should my shirt be opened? I would have to loosen my tie as well. Perhaps you would pull the knot from my hair, as you are wont to do.
[ he lays his diamond brooch on the desk, loosens his tie down to his collarbone. warmth creeps up his neck at the thought that childe is listening all the while. careful, zhongli. ]
...What would you truly do to me, if you were here in this room? Would you be thrilled by the risk of being discovered? Would you move slowly, or would I have you over my desk or against my door, with your hands tearing at my back? That's left for me to imagine, unfortunately. I've gotten quite good at it. ...I wish it wasn't so.
[ with one hand, he opens some of the buttons of his shirt. he slides his fingertips down his stomach with a sigh, slacking his shoulders against the chair behind him. he holds the phone with his hand again, murmuring into it with all sincerity. ]
It hasn't been long, but I miss you, Ajax.
no subject
Childe, at least, fully believes Zhongli doesn't know his whereabouts. Doesn't know that he's only a building away, holed up in his office and perched near the window. He'd intended to surprise Zhongli at the end of the work day, to catch him on his way out and drag him off to dinner to catch up after their time apart. He'd slipped up in their conversation earlier--in "this" weather, he'd said, catching himself just a moment too late--but Zhongli hadn't said anything about it, and so Childe can only assume he remains unaware.
But the proximity adds a whole new layer of delicious torture to their game. Zhongli might think Childe can do nothing but listen; Childe, on the other hand, is painfully aware of just how easy it would be to vault out onto the walkway and burst in through Zhongli's window. Everything Zhongli describes, everything Childe can imagine with perfect clarity--it's all within reach, should he only give in and go take it.
He's having fun like this, though, walking the knife's edge of temptation the way he always does. Zhongli never forbade him from touching himself while he listens, and he takes advantage of that oversight(?) now, pressing the heel of his palm to his crotch to stave off the arousal thrumming through his body. He wants everything Zhongli's describing--wants to thread his fingers through Zhongli's hair and press his lips to every scar that rests beneath his immaculate clothes. The sight of Zhongli kiss-marked and disheveled is perhaps the most beautiful thing he's ever had the privilege of witnessing, and he aims for it every chance he gets. It's surely not the same when Zhongli's on his own, of course, but Childe pictures it anyway, his mind oscillating between fantasies of the two of them together, and of Zhongli touching himself now. Always so greedy, even in his imagination.
(The window's open, but he's not really that close to it. His staff are still milling around the bank, but his door's locked, and they know better than to disturb him when the door's closed anyway.)
He's not prepared for Zhongli's tone, nor for the way it makes his heart ache. Childe's eyes snap open, and it's only then that he realizes he's closed them.]
Th-- [That's not fair, he almost protests, but he bites his tongue before the words fully escape him. Still, that small slip is probably more than enough to clue Zhongli in on what he'd intended to say.
There's something a little sullen in the silence that follows; he's pouting. What a baby.]
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and besides—zhongli can certainly change his mind. there's nothing that says he can't. he'll just have to listen for the sound of it—shifting clothes, an unbuttoning, the sound of velvet skin slipping wetly through his palm as he groans. it's what he was looking for all along, aside from childe's concession. it would give away that childe might be somewhere outside of the public eye, though...
so maybe it's hard not to be a little aroused by the idea of this. he made a weak attempt to stave it off until now. it's more believable if he's turned on anyway, isn't it?
childe stumbles slightly, biting his tongue just before he speaks. zhongli raises his brows, pleasantly surprised. his smile curves a little higher. he knows what that pause means. what a little baby. ]
Not fair, is it? [ yes, he knows. ] I don't believe I've broken the rules of our game. I am only telling you the whole truth. Do you mean to say that you miss me as well?
[ more goading questions. he closes the fingers of his free hand over the neck of the bottle, popping the cork with his thumb and first finger. he pauses for an answer that he knows isn't coming. ]
...No matter. I am here alone regardless, missing you. Your own hands and thoughts can only go so far to satisfy. I cannot recreate the feeling of your hair gripped in my hand in the way that you love. There is nowhere to sink my teeth into, and I cannot goad myself the way you do. I long to have your legs around me again.
[ warmth prickles him again. he's glad that he opened his shirt collar.
he slowly opens the buttons of his trousers. ]
At least I can remember the way you would call out to me.
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(And look, yes, Childe wouldn't have it any other way. But still.)
At least Zhongli moves back to the physical after that, more or less. Except that Childe can't settle back down so quickly. The distant sound of the bottle cork startles him, though he'd be hard-pressed to explain why. It's not like he consciously thought Zhongli was faking--but before this, he'd been half-focused on the images Zhongli conjured in his mind. Zhongli's a gifted storyteller, after all, and he'd been happy to let his thoughts go where Zhongli chose to direct them.
Now, even though his scalp tingles with phantom pain, even though his neck aches with the memory of Zhongli's teeth and tongue--he's laser-focused. Listening with near-predatory intent to every rustle of fabric, every possible change in Zhongli's breathing, all the little things that might help him accurately visualize what Zhongli's truly doing. Had he mistaken the sound of Zhongli's coat for something else? Was it his brooch or his hair clasp that he'd put down, a moment ago? Or something else? How much skin is he showing in the privacy of his office, so close by--
It's really hard to radiate the vibes of don't you dare over the phone, but Childe sure is trying his damndest. ("Don't you dare" what? Even he doesn't know.) He may or may not be unconsciously holding his breath, which, honestly, is more of a sign of his rapt attention than any little noises he might've made otherwise.
Honestly, he's not that far from his breaking point--Zhongli got him good with that I miss you. One more critical hit, maybe two, and he'll almost certainly give in.]
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it's almost enough to draw him away from his intentions. it would be his own version of giving in to take himself in his hand, work himself to full hardness, let childe know he wanted to hear his voice, games be damned.
but he doesn't. there is no sound from the receiver, meaning that childe's anticipation is reaching near it's peak. for zhongli, it's grounding.
he rests his hand around the base of the bottle, idly running his thumb in small strokes over the glass. ]
You've made me into a much greedier creature. I would never ask that you abandon all else or stay with me always. There are only moments where my selfishness gets the better of me. I see the ocean and think of you always, and at times I wish that you were beside me.
[ all of this in earnest. more than he thinks of childe's hair or mouth or hands, he sees all of him at once: a still-life painted into his memory, lovingly and excruciatingly detailed, childe sitting on the banister of the terrace that looks into the square, gathering zhongli's fingers in his hand and smiling like there was nowhere else he belonged but there.
zhongli's chest twists. enough of that.
he slides his hand slowly from his knee down over the inside of his thigh. he grazes his lips against the receiver as he murmurs, voice warm and rumbling: ]
And there are times when I want you until it aches, just as I want you now.
[ he swallows thickly, closes his eyes. ]
Ajax, I...
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[ he sits up. ]
I just saw the time. Apologies, Childe.
[ corks the bottle. ]
I have a prior engagement. Miss Xinyan will be visiting Wanmin Restaurant this evening. You understand.
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[anyway he's hanging up]
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Anyways it only takes a couple of minutes before Zhongli, with his Adepti hearing, might hear the sound of the door to the funeral parlor opening (was it closed? did he pick the lock? perhaps) along with purposeful strides down the hall. Like the Jojos walking meme. ドドドド
Is Zhongli going to get up and unlock the door before he gets there or is Childe gonna have to commit crimes for the D]
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oops!
WHAT KIND OF REACTION IMAGEs DOES YAYWON EVEN USE ]
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[ zhongli takes a moment to register that childe's not answering him.
good. he goes ahead and lays the phone on the desk and starts to button his pants again.
and then he'll go ahead and unlock the door. right when childe has entered the building. almost like he knew.
he'll find zhongli back at his desk, closing up a button on the front of his shirt. (he was taking his time with it, but childe doesn't need to know that.) the bottle is still on his desk, its contents a murky and purple liquid.
he seems nonchalant when he looks over at childe at the door, whether he busts it open or not. he feigns surprise. ]
Ah, you've come. [ finally. ]
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Right now, however, he's a man on a mission. He leaves Zhongli's office door wide open as he stalks across the room. Is Zhongli standing? Sitting? Regardless, Childe's on him without a word. He doesn't stop to process how Zhongli looks, what he's doing, the vial on his desk--none of it. He simply buries one hand in Zhongli's hair, grabs Zhongli's waist with the other, and slots their mouths together with a long, deep kiss.
Eventually, when he has to pull back:]
Your dinner's cancelled. [Xinyan won't mind, if this "prior engagement" is even real to begin with. She likes him.]
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maybe he still might. childe clears the doorway without even stopping to look at anything ahead of him. zhongli has only a moment to stand from his chair before he's nearly pulled off of his feet. childe kisses him wonderfully and deeply, and again all else in the universe falls away in his stead. (how precious is that feeling, when for so long you bore the world on your shoulders?)
zhongli responds in kind after a second of finding his bearings. he rests his hand on his shoulder, and his free arm hooks around his waist, hand splayed against the middle of his back. as childe pulls away to speak, zhongli brushes a kiss against the corner of his mouth, waiting to bring his lips back to their rightful place.
childe, childe, childe. it always feels like a lifetime of waiting, being away from him.
he smiles, sidling their noses beside one another. he murmurs, smiling and squeezing childe closer: ]
Ah, about that... It seems I was mistaken. Dinner will be tomorrow night.
[ he def did not forget or mistake anything. he raises his hand from his shoulder to hold his cheek. his eyes fall closed. ]
Welcome home.
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Partings are special moments, he'd once told the Traveler. But so too are reunions. And Childe isn't one to settle, wouldn't know how to even if he'd wanted to try, but--he wonders, sometimes. When he wants nothing more than to press his body to Zhongli's just like this. When the prospect of homecoming nestles into his heart, and memories of frozen seas melt under those of warm lips and gentle hands.
(In the end, he is not his father. He can't settle down to stay. If not because of loyalty, then because of ambition. Sometimes, Childe isn't sure which hurts more: when Zhongli smiles at him, loving and supportive, or when Zhongli can't bear the weight of his longing, lonely in a way only lovers can be.)
He's still fired up, and he shows it in the way he leans back against Zhongli's desk, pulling Zhongli into him and refusing to let go until he's had his fill. But he does, ultimately, let his passion shift into something deeper than simple arousal. He leans into Zhongli's touch, and doesn't resist the urge to turn his face, pressing a warm kiss to his hand.
At Zhongli's words, Childe snorts inelegantly, hiding his grin in Zhongli's palm.]
You, my dear consultant, are the absolute worst. [But his tone is fond, amused. His grip has shifted from a possessive hold into a warm embrace.] I was planning on surprising you.
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most of the time, anyway. like now, sometimes it was worth it to make childe wait.
there's a palpable shift once their heavy, hungry kiss finally ends. zhongli's eyes slowly come open, and he watches, enamored, as childe drags his lips into his palm. he traces the outline of his profile: brown eyelashes cresting over top of his cheeks, the purple hint of exhaustion in the inner corner of his eye, the sharp slope of his nose, the pale pink apple of his cheek that shines when he grins.
zhongli leans in and kisses it softly, not able to help himself. even while childe is calling him the worst. his affection swells. ]
I see. Forgive me.
[ smile smile. he trails kisses to the edge of childe's eye, over his brow, nosing past his bangs to the center of his forehead. he's obviously not that torn up over it. ]
It can be difficult to ignore the rumblings about the harbor... particularly when they pertain to a certain Snezhnayan diplomat coming back to port.
[ gay, but it's the truth. sometimes it's helpful to memorize the routes of every ship coming in and out of the harbor too, especially when you know which region your boyfriend was shipped off to.
in one fluid move, he reaches down to the back of childe's thighs and slides him up to sit on the edge the desk. (he'd had the good sense to clear out most things before childe's arrival.) he keeps childe flush against him, hips locked between his legs and gathering warmth where they press together.
arousal tightens in the pit of his stomach. zhongli performed for one selfish purpose: to bring ajax back into his arms, wanting him as much as he was missed. zhongli kept his composure at the cost of his desire burgeoning inside of him—an already overgrown tangle of weeds, a need so strong it ached. childe was in liyue, within his reach. he wanted childe to come to him, but maybe he had been teasing himself too.
zhongli tilts his head and takes a deep, hot kiss from childe's mouth. desire falls through his body like a wave of water, reme he slips his hands up to grasp tightly at his ass, fingernails digging into flesh and muscle. he mutters against childe's lips between breathless kisses: ]
But I do not regret what I've done.
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