[ 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: ]
[GAY... it's truly unfair that he can't even hold onto fake irritation when Zhongli says the things he does. When he smiles like that and presses such sweet kisses to his skin--stronger people than he would break under that tenderness, of that he's certain.
Not that he's complaining about the rest, either. He hasn't even been gone that long, really--yet somehow, despite longing for it constantly, he'd forgotten just how good it feels to have Zhongli pressed against him. No matter how much he dreams about it while he's away, nothing truly compares to the full intensity of Zhongli's desire. He can't ever get enough, and it makes it so much easier to fall into his own.
He laughs at Zhongli's words, but that doesn't stop him from matching Zhongli's hunger, meeting each kiss as though it would be suffering not to. He locks his legs around Zhongli and winds one arm around his shoulders, using the desk as leverage to grind up against him. Not that Zhongli really needs any confirmation of how wound up he is, but still. Insatiable, Zhongli had teased him, once about battle and once, later, about this ever-present need--but who started this to begin with?
The door to Zhongli's office is still wide open. Childe could use his Vision to close it from a distance if he really wanted to--but he's too riled up, too focused on Zhongli to care. Besides, Zhongli can take care of his own reputation. Childe's only duty right now is to make sure Zhongli knows just how much he, too, wants this. Wants him. Loves him.]
Tell me. [Breathlessly demanding as he drops his free hand between the two of them, going straight for the fastenings of Zhongli's pants. Typically, he likes to get Zhongli's shirt off and make his way down, following the paths of his scars like a roadmap--but that can be for later.] If I hadn't been across the street, would you have really kept going?
[ the imagined memory of childe's legs locked over his hips makes it all the more gratifying to have them there once more. he supports one hand against the desk beside his hip, the other deftly unfastening the front of childe's coat. childe rolls his hips upward and zhongli bears down to meet it, the slide of their erections firing every nerve. he hums against childe's hungry lips, between their tongues as they seek inside each other's mouths.
insatiable, yes, but zhongli is too. he would normally care for propriety enough to stop them both and close the door, but earlier he made an error in his judgment. even if childe hadn't come to him, his mind couldn't help but conjure every word he spoke. when he said he missed him, he meant every word.
warm breath skates over his mouth. childe's quiet request is sweet and smooth as zhongli nearly presses their foreheads together, lips hovering a scant few centimeters from one another. his eyes flicker down to childe's gloved hands, hurriedly opening his pants. again, his anticipation flares from the pit of his stomach.
how does a lone man rouse such sensations and emotions in a god? childe makes him give into his weaknesses, every selfish and primal need that shouldn't be afforded to one of his kind. then again, he thinks, no other god has ever had childe, and no other god ever would.
he kisses the line of childe's jaw, down his soft neck, over his throat. ]
Mm. Would it not be pointless to answer your question now?
[ he smiles against his skin. he's right, technically. zhongli noses past childe's collar and kisses the base of his neck. he had missed the smell of the ocean on his skin, the taste of salt and sweat. he opens his coat, pushing the lapels of his jacket from his shoulders. his shirt is next. ]
I hadn't planned to... but I will admit to getting carried away. It may have been necessary if I continued any longer.
[Sometimes, he thinks he'd be content doing nothing but kissing Zhongli. There are days, heavy ones, when it's all he truly wants to do--when he thinks he would give almost anything to be this close to Zhongli for the rest of forever. To feel Zhongli's brow pressed against his own and wrap them both in everything they can't have. Safety. Divinity. Eternity.
Those days pass, of course. They always do. But it doesn't change the fact that Zhongli's mouth on his--especially in moments like this, after they've been apart--never fails to warm him from the inside. Zhongli's desire heats his blood and spurs his own passion to absurd levels, but there's never been a moment when Childe hasn't felt his love beneath it.
He lets his head fall back, baring his throat to Zhongli's affections. Whether Zhongli's gentle or not doesn't really matter to him right now--he's missed him too much to be picky.
He huffs out another laugh, reluctantly letting go of Zhongli just long enough to help shrug his jacket off. As soon as he can, though, he reaches out again, nimble fingers slipping past Zhongli's waistband to try and stroke along his cock. Is he teasing... maybe...]
I knew it, you shameless liar. [If he didn't have his hand down Zhongli's pants, this would probably be a different reaction--but as it is, he just sounds smug and amused, pleased that his suspicions had been correct. Stupid.]
[ zhongli's stomach tenses as childe's palm slides down his skin. in response, zhongli closes his mouth over the side of childe's neck and sucks a bruise onto his skin. childe's fingertips slide over his half-hard cock, leaving a warm shiver in their wake. he briefly parts from childe's skin to speak, smirking: ]
When did I lie?
[ he said he forgot! what's wrong with rubbing one out before going to dinner? (he was definitely lying)
zhongli pushes childe's jacket to the other end of the desk, forgotten with all else. he raises both hands to unbutton childe's shirt with practiced fingers. each inch of him revealed deepens the need that flourishes behind his ribs. already the marks from previous visits have cruelly faded. ]
Even if I had, you don't seem to have minded it. Your fury has been quelled somehow.
[ he's more of a greedy wave at high tide than the expected tidal wave. his fingers slide beneath the strap of childe's harness, its warm leather pressing over the backs of his hands. he pulls childe's shirt open, just enough to reveal the smooth, muscled plane of his chest beneath it.
it's all zhongli can do not to adore it again with his mouth, feeling the fanning of his ribs beneath his lips, his heart fluttering madly like a caged bird. he does not need reassurance—he simply likes evidence that his heart might be the same fretting creature in his chest, beating towards childe as if he was its home.
zhongli kisses childe again, deeply and briefly, sighing against it. his fingertips brush and flick and pinch over his soft, standing nipples. he's teasing too. ]l
["when did I lie," he says, as if he didn't just BLATANTLY ADMIT to pretending like he was going to jerk off in this office with no (initial) intentions of doing so!!! Childe rolls his eyes even as he lets his head fall to the side, encouraging as always--he's never stopped Zhongli from leaving marks on him before, and he has no reason to do it now. He glances at his jacket as it's pushed out of the way, but--well. He's not that devoted to housekeeping. He'd rather deal with some wrinkled clothes than pull away from Zhongli, even if he does punish ("""punish""") him by dragging his thumb roughly over the tip of Zhongli's cock. Maybe he'll ruin Zhongli's pants! That'd serve him right! (He won't. Probably.)]
It can always come back, if that's what you want. [He's joking. Probably.
He seems more or less content to let Zhongli explore him, though; he smirks knowingly when Zhongli leaves his harness on, but he doesn't complain or try to take it off. He simply spreads his legs a little wider to make it easier to hook them loosely around Zhongli's, as if there's any chance he might possibly have somewhere else to be. He arches, encouraging, Zhongli's steady fingers drawing a shiver out of him--when he squirms, more of his shirt falls away, revealing partially-healed bruises and a hint of a new scar.
Before he can get too carried away, he pulls his hands away, peeling his gloves off. These he tosses gently over beside his jacket--with that done, he pushes Zhongli's shirt up just enough to slip his hands underneath it, intent on remembering the warmth of Zhongli's skin.
He can take his time looking later--can greet each scar like an old friend, can take his time re-learning every patch of Zhongli's skin, every curve of muscle and bone. Right now is about touch, and touch, and touch--making up for everything he'd been denied on his mission, on the voyage, on the phone.]
[ that hard slide of childe's thumb over his cock earns a quiet hiss and a smile. he can't see childe's rolling eyes, but the timing of childe's ""punishment"" is telling enough. be nice to him :(
childe easily draws him forward and locks their hips, heat collecting where they press against one another. and, of course, he has nowhere else he should be—though there is a fleeting thought to yes, maybe, close the door behind them. at times, zhongli manages to be the conscience of them both, reminding them of their commitments or even promising that they would continue whatever childe started once their plans came to an end. more often than not, especially in the early throes of their relationship, childe would manage to dissuade him.
it's because of things like this, when childe arches into his hands and shudders underneath him. zhongli's smooths his hands down childe's sides, ending at the narrow curve of his waist. childe's shirt is open, pushed up to his shoulders, and before childe can discard his gloves and slide his hands under his shirt, zhongli takes in the view. of course he hadn't come back unscathed. it was his nature. he's (probably) come back to zhongli with worse injuries than this.
his kisses run to the front of his collarbone and down the middle of his chest, over that large scar that carries the prickling vestiges of abyssal energy. childe's hands can't reach his chest anymore, but zhongli deftly opens the buttons of his shirt with a single hand. ]
Perhaps another time.
[ he smiles briefly against childe's skin. he was curious when childe arrived with guns blazing, forcefully kissing him and demanding that their night be spent together. at the heart of it all, the phone call was a harmless game—a test of childe's patience for the fun of it. if it brought childe even more quickly into his arms (and underneath it), that was only a bonus. ...maybe one he was hoping for.
zhongli's kisses the center of his chest. a hand draws downward to open the fly of childe's pants, and the other smooths over childe's stomach, the muscle under his ribs. there's a little roughness to his half-healed scar under his fingers. ]
I see that you had another altercation not too long ago.
[ or several? probably several. it's tough to land blows on childe. he probably blew through some of these fights with hardly a scratch. ]
He does, however, reluctantly withdraw his hands once Zhongli's out of his reach. Zhongli's right, after all; his "fury" was quelled the moment he burst through the doors. Childe's demanding, sure, and commandeering when he wants to be--but whether he admits it or not, he mostly just wants Zhongli's attention. Now that he's got all of it, what does he have to complain about?
Not to say he won't make a show of it, if he feels like it. An insincere lecture about "manipulating unsuspecting mortals" may be in order later, after they've had time to cool off from the sort of desperate passion that only comes with a reunion. For now, though, Childe just rests one hand on Zhongli's head, tangling his fingers in soft locks as Zhongli kisses his way down his chest. His other hand falls to the desk, not far from the glass vial that inspired this whole thing; if he notices it, he doesn't say anything.]
Mm. [He doesn't need to look to know what Zhongli's talking about; he remembers the hits that land. He's busy watching Zhongli's fingers work at his buttons, ready to take over if Zhongli slows or stops.] Rifthounds--they're a little too fast for my bow.
[And they're plentiful outside of Liyue, which makes for good practice but also more opportunities to get hit. He's not immune to corrosion, either; the effects have faded, but the scar will be a permanent addition to his collection.
It's healing, but still sensitive--muscle jumps beneath Zhongli's touch, though Childe himself is more interested in pressing his hips forward, encouraging Zhongli to touch him elsewhere.]
[ zhongli will point out that childe was perfectly aware of the situation when he accepted his challenge. the fact that he wasn't prepared and subsequently lost wasn't zhongli's fault.
was it in childe's nature to accept challenges (almost) all challenges? yes. did zhongli know that? maybe. that's semantics.
childe combs his fingers into his hair, pushing his bangs back against his scalp and loosening his hair tie. zhongli takes his time, tilting his head and relishing every kiss. he missed this feeling—his want and affection burning in his stomach like a hot coal. he'll make up for everything he denied childe.
rifthounds are especially dangerous. his thumb brushes lightly over the length of his scar. beneath it, his skin briefly shimmers. healed 8% of max hp. the scar might still be there, but the residual pain is abated somewhat. ]
I'm glad to see that you have only one deep wound. Not even my shields can safeguard against corrosion.
[ his hands sink to childe's hips. he hooks his fingers over the hem of childe's pants and slowly begins guiding them downwards. he kisses beneath his navel and again on the fabric strained over the hard shape between his legs. he murmurs: ]
Please be cautious, so that you may come back to me.
[ it isn't right to ask this, knowing childe would always rush into the heart of every danger. at least this might show him how deeply he's been missed. ]
He is not, however, immune to the feeling of Zhongli's abilities. His skin tingles where Zhongli touches him, tiny starbursts along a half-healed wound that take the ache with them when they fade. Hardly necessary--Childe's pain tolerance surpassed mortal limits ages ago--but it's... sweet. The kind of thing Childe would never think to ask for, but that he appreciates once he has it.
Maybe, if he's lucky, he'll live long enough to stop being startled whenever Zhongli takes care of him.
Today is not that day, but it's not a day to dwell on it, either. It's easy to get distracted by the warm trail of Zhongli's mouth, and Childe lets his focus drift to that, taking a slow, steady breath. His fingers are still loose as they card through Zhongli's hair, but his eyes are dark, and his gaze is fixed intently on Zhongli. He's not so worked up that Zhongli's slow kisses are cruel, per se, but just like on the phone, he's just about hit his limit of anticipation alone.
At least he still has enough patience to answer Zhongli, even if his heart still wants to skirt around the sentiment.]
Don't worry. I have no intention of dying to something like this. [Which is not what Zhongli was asking of him, exactly, but it's the most honest response Childe can give him. He will be cautious, in his own way--Childe doesn't want to die to a stray rifthound either. Getting taken out by a careless mistake is not exactly the grand showdown he dreams of.
That said, he can't help adding--]
But my death will be on your hands if you don't stop teasing me.
zhongli smiles as he smooths his hands down the lengths of childe's thighs. he revels in the fingertips pushed through his hair, those wanting eyes when he briefly looks up and meets childe's hungry gaze. ]
I'm sure you would prefer to be slain by Rex Lapis.
[ he's playing a dangerous game again, bringing up something like that. he abates this by carefully detaching childe's vision and sliding it onto the table beside them.
by now, childe is rendered in his memory with perfect clarity: every playful lilt of his voice, every stretch of his skin, the grooves in his palms, the creases of his elbows, the his lightless eyes can still betray what he tries to keep hidden.
that image should have been comforting while childe was away—and it did keep him company when he was particularly lonely, like he'd said on the phone. mostly it made the wait a little harder to bear.
the belt and the front of childe's trousers are the next to be worked open. meanwhile, he brushes his lips on the hard muscle over childe's stomach. ]
I want to savor you.
[ gay if true. ]
But I've made you wait long enough, haven't I?
[ his fingers hook over the sides of his pants and pull them down beneath his hips. ]
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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.
no subject
(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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Not that he's complaining about the rest, either. He hasn't even been gone that long, really--yet somehow, despite longing for it constantly, he'd forgotten just how good it feels to have Zhongli pressed against him. No matter how much he dreams about it while he's away, nothing truly compares to the full intensity of Zhongli's desire. He can't ever get enough, and it makes it so much easier to fall into his own.
He laughs at Zhongli's words, but that doesn't stop him from matching Zhongli's hunger, meeting each kiss as though it would be suffering not to. He locks his legs around Zhongli and winds one arm around his shoulders, using the desk as leverage to grind up against him. Not that Zhongli really needs any confirmation of how wound up he is, but still. Insatiable, Zhongli had teased him, once about battle and once, later, about this ever-present need--but who started this to begin with?
The door to Zhongli's office is still wide open. Childe could use his Vision to close it from a distance if he really wanted to--but he's too riled up, too focused on Zhongli to care. Besides, Zhongli can take care of his own reputation. Childe's only duty right now is to make sure Zhongli knows just how much he, too, wants this. Wants him. Loves him.]
Tell me. [Breathlessly demanding as he drops his free hand between the two of them, going straight for the fastenings of Zhongli's pants. Typically, he likes to get Zhongli's shirt off and make his way down, following the paths of his scars like a roadmap--but that can be for later.] If I hadn't been across the street, would you have really kept going?
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insatiable, yes, but zhongli is too. he would normally care for propriety enough to stop them both and close the door, but earlier he made an error in his judgment. even if childe hadn't come to him, his mind couldn't help but conjure every word he spoke. when he said he missed him, he meant every word.
warm breath skates over his mouth. childe's quiet request is sweet and smooth as zhongli nearly presses their foreheads together, lips hovering a scant few centimeters from one another. his eyes flicker down to childe's gloved hands, hurriedly opening his pants. again, his anticipation flares from the pit of his stomach.
how does a lone man rouse such sensations and emotions in a god? childe makes him give into his weaknesses, every selfish and primal need that shouldn't be afforded to one of his kind. then again, he thinks, no other god has ever had childe, and no other god ever would.
he kisses the line of childe's jaw, down his soft neck, over his throat. ]
Mm. Would it not be pointless to answer your question now?
[ he smiles against his skin. he's right, technically. zhongli noses past childe's collar and kisses the base of his neck. he had missed the smell of the ocean on his skin, the taste of salt and sweat. he opens his coat, pushing the lapels of his jacket from his shoulders. his shirt is next. ]
I hadn't planned to... but I will admit to getting carried away. It may have been necessary if I continued any longer.
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Those days pass, of course. They always do. But it doesn't change the fact that Zhongli's mouth on his--especially in moments like this, after they've been apart--never fails to warm him from the inside. Zhongli's desire heats his blood and spurs his own passion to absurd levels, but there's never been a moment when Childe hasn't felt his love beneath it.
He lets his head fall back, baring his throat to Zhongli's affections. Whether Zhongli's gentle or not doesn't really matter to him right now--he's missed him too much to be picky.
He huffs out another laugh, reluctantly letting go of Zhongli just long enough to help shrug his jacket off. As soon as he can, though, he reaches out again, nimble fingers slipping past Zhongli's waistband to try and stroke along his cock. Is he teasing... maybe...]
I knew it, you shameless liar. [If he didn't have his hand down Zhongli's pants, this would probably be a different reaction--but as it is, he just sounds smug and amused, pleased that his suspicions had been correct. Stupid.]
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When did I lie?
[ he said he forgot! what's wrong with rubbing one out before going to dinner? (he was definitely lying)
zhongli pushes childe's jacket to the other end of the desk, forgotten with all else. he raises both hands to unbutton childe's shirt with practiced fingers. each inch of him revealed deepens the need that flourishes behind his ribs. already the marks from previous visits have cruelly faded. ]
Even if I had, you don't seem to have minded it. Your fury has been quelled somehow.
[ he's more of a greedy wave at high tide than the expected tidal wave. his fingers slide beneath the strap of childe's harness, its warm leather pressing over the backs of his hands. he pulls childe's shirt open, just enough to reveal the smooth, muscled plane of his chest beneath it.
it's all zhongli can do not to adore it again with his mouth, feeling the fanning of his ribs beneath his lips, his heart fluttering madly like a caged bird. he does not need reassurance—he simply likes evidence that his heart might be the same fretting creature in his chest, beating towards childe as if he was its home.
zhongli kisses childe again, deeply and briefly, sighing against it. his fingertips brush and flick and pinch over his soft, standing nipples. he's teasing too. ]l
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It can always come back, if that's what you want. [He's joking. Probably.
He seems more or less content to let Zhongli explore him, though; he smirks knowingly when Zhongli leaves his harness on, but he doesn't complain or try to take it off. He simply spreads his legs a little wider to make it easier to hook them loosely around Zhongli's, as if there's any chance he might possibly have somewhere else to be. He arches, encouraging, Zhongli's steady fingers drawing a shiver out of him--when he squirms, more of his shirt falls away, revealing partially-healed bruises and a hint of a new scar.
Before he can get too carried away, he pulls his hands away, peeling his gloves off. These he tosses gently over beside his jacket--with that done, he pushes Zhongli's shirt up just enough to slip his hands underneath it, intent on remembering the warmth of Zhongli's skin.
He can take his time looking later--can greet each scar like an old friend, can take his time re-learning every patch of Zhongli's skin, every curve of muscle and bone. Right now is about touch, and touch, and touch--making up for everything he'd been denied on his mission, on the voyage, on the phone.]
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childe easily draws him forward and locks their hips, heat collecting where they press against one another. and, of course, he has nowhere else he should be—though there is a fleeting thought to yes, maybe, close the door behind them. at times, zhongli manages to be the conscience of them both, reminding them of their commitments or even promising that they would continue whatever childe started once their plans came to an end. more often than not, especially in the early throes of their relationship, childe would manage to dissuade him.
it's because of things like this, when childe arches into his hands and shudders underneath him. zhongli's smooths his hands down childe's sides, ending at the narrow curve of his waist. childe's shirt is open, pushed up to his shoulders, and before childe can discard his gloves and slide his hands under his shirt, zhongli takes in the view. of course he hadn't come back unscathed. it was his nature. he's (probably) come back to zhongli with worse injuries than this.
his kisses run to the front of his collarbone and down the middle of his chest, over that large scar that carries the prickling vestiges of abyssal energy. childe's hands can't reach his chest anymore, but zhongli deftly opens the buttons of his shirt with a single hand. ]
Perhaps another time.
[ he smiles briefly against childe's skin. he was curious when childe arrived with guns blazing, forcefully kissing him and demanding that their night be spent together. at the heart of it all, the phone call was a harmless game—a test of childe's patience for the fun of it. if it brought childe even more quickly into his arms (and underneath it), that was only a bonus. ...maybe one he was hoping for.
zhongli's kisses the center of his chest. a hand draws downward to open the fly of childe's pants, and the other smooths over childe's stomach, the muscle under his ribs. there's a little roughness to his half-healed scar under his fingers. ]
I see that you had another altercation not too long ago.
[ or several? probably several. it's tough to land blows on childe. he probably blew through some of these fights with hardly a scratch. ]
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He does, however, reluctantly withdraw his hands once Zhongli's out of his reach. Zhongli's right, after all; his "fury" was quelled the moment he burst through the doors. Childe's demanding, sure, and commandeering when he wants to be--but whether he admits it or not, he mostly just wants Zhongli's attention. Now that he's got all of it, what does he have to complain about?
Not to say he won't make a show of it, if he feels like it. An insincere lecture about "manipulating unsuspecting mortals" may be in order later, after they've had time to cool off from the sort of desperate passion that only comes with a reunion. For now, though, Childe just rests one hand on Zhongli's head, tangling his fingers in soft locks as Zhongli kisses his way down his chest. His other hand falls to the desk, not far from the glass vial that inspired this whole thing; if he notices it, he doesn't say anything.]
Mm. [He doesn't need to look to know what Zhongli's talking about; he remembers the hits that land. He's busy watching Zhongli's fingers work at his buttons, ready to take over if Zhongli slows or stops.] Rifthounds--they're a little too fast for my bow.
[And they're plentiful outside of Liyue, which makes for good practice but also more opportunities to get hit. He's not immune to corrosion, either; the effects have faded, but the scar will be a permanent addition to his collection.
It's healing, but still sensitive--muscle jumps beneath Zhongli's touch, though Childe himself is more interested in pressing his hips forward, encouraging Zhongli to touch him elsewhere.]
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was it in childe's nature to accept challenges (almost) all challenges? yes. did zhongli know that? maybe. that's semantics.
childe combs his fingers into his hair, pushing his bangs back against his scalp and loosening his hair tie. zhongli takes his time, tilting his head and relishing every kiss. he missed this feeling—his want and affection burning in his stomach like a hot coal. he'll make up for everything he denied childe.
rifthounds are especially dangerous. his thumb brushes lightly over the length of his scar. beneath it, his skin briefly shimmers. healed 8% of max hp. the scar might still be there, but the residual pain is abated somewhat. ]
I'm glad to see that you have only one deep wound. Not even my shields can safeguard against corrosion.
[ his hands sink to childe's hips. he hooks his fingers over the hem of childe's pants and slowly begins guiding them downwards. he kisses beneath his navel and again on the fabric strained over the hard shape between his legs. he murmurs: ]
Please be cautious, so that you may come back to me.
[ it isn't right to ask this, knowing childe would always rush into the heart of every danger. at least this might show him how deeply he's been missed. ]
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He is not, however, immune to the feeling of Zhongli's abilities. His skin tingles where Zhongli touches him, tiny starbursts along a half-healed wound that take the ache with them when they fade. Hardly necessary--Childe's pain tolerance surpassed mortal limits ages ago--but it's... sweet. The kind of thing Childe would never think to ask for, but that he appreciates once he has it.
Maybe, if he's lucky, he'll live long enough to stop being startled whenever Zhongli takes care of him.
Today is not that day, but it's not a day to dwell on it, either. It's easy to get distracted by the warm trail of Zhongli's mouth, and Childe lets his focus drift to that, taking a slow, steady breath. His fingers are still loose as they card through Zhongli's hair, but his eyes are dark, and his gaze is fixed intently on Zhongli. He's not so worked up that Zhongli's slow kisses are cruel, per se, but just like on the phone, he's just about hit his limit of anticipation alone.
At least he still has enough patience to answer Zhongli, even if his heart still wants to skirt around the sentiment.]
Don't worry. I have no intention of dying to something like this. [Which is not what Zhongli was asking of him, exactly, but it's the most honest response Childe can give him. He will be cautious, in his own way--Childe doesn't want to die to a stray rifthound either. Getting taken out by a careless mistake is not exactly the grand showdown he dreams of.
That said, he can't help adding--]
But my death will be on your hands if you don't stop teasing me.
[DRAMATIC.]
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zhongli smiles as he smooths his hands down the lengths of childe's thighs. he revels in the fingertips pushed through his hair, those wanting eyes when he briefly looks up and meets childe's hungry gaze. ]
I'm sure you would prefer to be slain by Rex Lapis.
[ he's playing a dangerous game again, bringing up something like that. he abates this by carefully detaching childe's vision and sliding it onto the table beside them.
by now, childe is rendered in his memory with perfect clarity: every playful lilt of his voice, every stretch of his skin, the grooves in his palms, the creases of his elbows, the his lightless eyes can still betray what he tries to keep hidden.
that image should have been comforting while childe was away—and it did keep him company when he was particularly lonely, like he'd said on the phone. mostly it made the wait a little harder to bear.
the belt and the front of childe's trousers are the next to be worked open. meanwhile, he brushes his lips on the hard muscle over childe's stomach. ]
I want to savor you.
[ gay if true. ]
But I've made you wait long enough, haven't I?
[ his fingers hook over the sides of his pants and pull them down beneath his hips. ]
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