[ 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. ]
[If he really wanted to, he could speed this up himself. Zhongli never forbade him from undressing, or touching himself. If he was feeling particularly domineering, he could've even tightened his grip on Zhongli's hair to the point of pain, or reached further down to grab his jaw, tight and controlling. It's not entirely off the table, in fact--but he doesn't do any of that. Maybe he's too indulgent, too willing to let his lover do whatever he wants; maybe he just likes the teasing more than he wants to admit (it's that one); whatever the reason, for now, he lets Zhongli carry on at his own pace.
That's not going to last if Zhongli starts dangling battle fantasies in front of him, though. Were he any less worked up, perhaps he'd quip Is that an offer? or something of the sort. Instead, he just groans, lifting his hips beseechingly. (If anyone else were to try and remove his vision, they'd lose a hand. Lucky Zhongli.)]
Zhongli.
[His tone is meant to be warning, but impatience blunts the edge and turns it into more of a whine--which, that's embarrassing, but at the moment he doesn't care. Zhongli can savor whatever he wants later!! He's got about ten seconds to do something before Childe tackles him to the floor and takes over.]
[ zhongli's lips spread in a smile. embarrassing, but not the first time that childe's said his name like this—and it wouldn't be the last. he lets it warm him from the inside, arousal tightening in his stomach. ]
You're more desperate than I thought.
[ it's tempting to peel the clothes away until he's bare from the waist down, but he can sense the tense, restless energy from childe's nerves. his fingertips are digging in deep into his scalp. he's about to become much less complacent if he waits for too long.
so zhongli reaches and takes the bottle of purple liquid from earlier, uncorking it again easily. he pours some into his bare hand, but before he corks it, he raises it above childe's growing erection, which is laid against his stomach. zhongli pours a delicate line of the stuff down the length of his cock; the fluid is viscous, transparent, and it's cold as anything. ]
I spoke for some time already. I'd like to hear from you.
[ zhongli sets the bottle back onto the table. his free hand rests over childe's thigh, and he closes his dripping hand over childe's cock. he strokes it slowly, thumb and first finger squeezing as it runs from base to tip, drawing out drops of precome. zhongli gazes intently at childe's face, drinking in every sight and sound of his pleasure. he missed this. ]
[It's a good thing someone's enjoying himself. Childe grumbles, giving Zhongli's hair an insincere little yank.]
And whose fault is that?
[It's ZHONGLI'S for TEASING HIM.
But finally, finally Zhongli takes mercy on him. He jerks in surprise as the first drops of cold liquid hit his skin, his fingers flexing where they grip the desk. He lets his head fall back with a soft moan as Zhongli's fingers close around him, but only briefly; like a moth to a flame, he looks back down at Zhongli after a minute, eyes dark with want.]
Nnh--yeah, of course. [Yet another example of Zhongli's power over him. Before they'd taken this leap, Childe had never paid all that much attention to his baser needs; these days, half is mind is always on Zhongli in some way, shape or form. He shudders as Zhongli strokes him, fingers briefly dropping from Zhongli's hair to stroke over his brow, his temple. Zhongli is truly unfairly beautiful.]
Had to-- had to be quiet, on the ship here. But I couldn't wait.
[ zhongli goes on smiling, even as his head aches beneath childe's balled fingers. he enjoys building the anticipation, watching childe groan and twist his hips until he's overcome with it, demanding to be fucked. (or otherwise pushing zhongli on his back and taking the reigns. when zhongli feels generous, anyway.)
heat falls through his body when he hears childe's admission. he crafts the image in his mind's eye: childe somewhere in his quarters on the ship, stroking his leaking cock, eyelids falling closed as he bites his lip and thinks of zhongli. did he hold his breath as the fatuus crossed in front of his door? did it add to the thrill? did he fuck himself?
he presses a kiss to childe's thigh, lets his lips drag as he speaks. ]
Impatient as ever. If only I had been there to witness you... although I might have only teased you more.
[ his hand stalls at the base of his cock and squeezes softly. zhongli runs his tongue up the smooth, dripping underside of his cock. the light vestiges of cryo prickle his mouth like half-melted chips of ice.
finally he lowers his mouth over the head of childe's cock—but he sinks all of him into his mouth, tongue flattened against it, suppressing all urges to cough or gag.
when the tip of his nose presses to childe's skin, he works himself into a glide, sucking and groaning softly as he exhales. the liquid gathers at his lips, trails down his throat as he swallows, but beneath the light sweetness is the unmistakable taste of childe—bitter salt and cream sticking to his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
he won't tease him. if anything, zhongli is hungry to make him come. ]
[Terrible tease, is probably where that sentence was going. But unsurprisingly, it doesn't last once Zhongli takes him in, his words breaking off into a loud curse and then a low groan. It takes every ounce of willpower he's got not to thrust forward, the chill from the liquid clashing violently against the wet heat of Zhongli's mouth, and his grip on the table turns iron-tight. He may or may not break it.]
Zhongli. [If he were a different sort of man, he'd probably be embarrassed by the desperation clear in his tone. But Childe has never cared about things like that, and he's not about to start now. If Zhongli makes him feel good, makes him crave more--what shame is there in that? Besides, Childe would bet the entirety of Northland Bank that there's not a soul in Liyue who could resist Zhongli.
(Except maybe the lesbians. That's up for debate.)
His other hand, the one that had been dancing over Zhongli's face, shifts to rest at the base of his neck instead. He can't look away from Zhongli's face, and it's the sight of him, perhaps even more than the press of his lips, his throat, that draw a deep shudder from Childe's core.]
Zhongli, please. [He's not sure he could pinpoint exactly what it is he's pleading for, at this point. They couldn't have been flirting and teasing for more than twenty minutes, but it feels like he's been wound up for weeks. He doesn't bother trying to finish his sentence, though; he trusts that Zhongli will understand.]
[ if this is the way his desk is going to be damaged, zhongli has no one to blame but himself. he's too focused on how childe's cock fills in his mouth and touches the back of his throat. he's careful not to drag his teeth as he bobs his head.
childe groans and shudders, moans his name, and it's liquid fire through zhongli's golden blood. no amount of his imagination could conjure these sounds from his throat or the tremors in his hips. zhongli's gaze flickers up, and the dazed, desperate look in his cerulean eyes makes his lower stomach clench. he would keep that gaze as long as he could.
ah, they've reached that point. zhongli slows his pace to a halt, tightening his lips as they settle on the base of his length. he slides childe's swollen cock from his mouth and lets it drop stiffly over his stomach. when he leans back, he takes in the full measure of childe as he licks the line of spit from his lips. childe is a miracle: his open lips, the shine of sweat slowly building on his skin, his scar-laden chest and standing nipples, his drooling cock. zhongli's hunger swells in his chest. he would devour childe in the only way he can. ]
Very well.
[ he wipes his slick palm against the side of childe's hip. with both hands mostly clean, he pulls childe's boots from his feet and rolls his pants down after them. as he slips one leg from his ankle, he leans between childe's legs and briefly sinks his teeth into his inner thigh, pricking his skin with sharpened canines. blood touches on his tongue, metallic and warm. he sets his hands onto childe's bare thighs for leverage—warm, supple, tensed—and after he lets go, he cleans the wound with one slow lick. ]
Tell me what it is you want.
[ he did understand what childe meant. he just wants to hear it, because he's a terrible tease. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
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
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
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.]
no subject
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. ]
no subject
That's not going to last if Zhongli starts dangling battle fantasies in front of him, though. Were he any less worked up, perhaps he'd quip Is that an offer? or something of the sort. Instead, he just groans, lifting his hips beseechingly. (If anyone else were to try and remove his vision, they'd lose a hand. Lucky Zhongli.)]
Zhongli.
[His tone is meant to be warning, but impatience blunts the edge and turns it into more of a whine--which, that's embarrassing, but at the moment he doesn't care. Zhongli can savor whatever he wants later!! He's got about ten seconds to do something before Childe tackles him to the floor and takes over.]
no subject
You're more desperate than I thought.
[ it's tempting to peel the clothes away until he's bare from the waist down, but he can sense the tense, restless energy from childe's nerves. his fingertips are digging in deep into his scalp. he's about to become much less complacent if he waits for too long.
so zhongli reaches and takes the bottle of purple liquid from earlier, uncorking it again easily. he pours some into his bare hand, but before he corks it, he raises it above childe's growing erection, which is laid against his stomach. zhongli pours a delicate line of the stuff down the length of his cock; the fluid is viscous, transparent, and it's cold as anything. ]
I spoke for some time already. I'd like to hear from you.
[ zhongli sets the bottle back onto the table. his free hand rests over childe's thigh, and he closes his dripping hand over childe's cock. he strokes it slowly, thumb and first finger squeezing as it runs from base to tip, drawing out drops of precome. zhongli gazes intently at childe's face, drinking in every sight and sound of his pleasure. he missed this. ]
Did you think of me as well, while you were away?
no subject
And whose fault is that?
[It's ZHONGLI'S for TEASING HIM.
But finally, finally Zhongli takes mercy on him. He jerks in surprise as the first drops of cold liquid hit his skin, his fingers flexing where they grip the desk. He lets his head fall back with a soft moan as Zhongli's fingers close around him, but only briefly; like a moth to a flame, he looks back down at Zhongli after a minute, eyes dark with want.]
Nnh--yeah, of course. [Yet another example of Zhongli's power over him. Before they'd taken this leap, Childe had never paid all that much attention to his baser needs; these days, half is mind is always on Zhongli in some way, shape or form. He shudders as Zhongli strokes him, fingers briefly dropping from Zhongli's hair to stroke over his brow, his temple. Zhongli is truly unfairly beautiful.]
Had to-- had to be quiet, on the ship here. But I couldn't wait.
no subject
heat falls through his body when he hears childe's admission. he crafts the image in his mind's eye: childe somewhere in his quarters on the ship, stroking his leaking cock, eyelids falling closed as he bites his lip and thinks of zhongli. did he hold his breath as the fatuus crossed in front of his door? did it add to the thrill? did he fuck himself?
he presses a kiss to childe's thigh, lets his lips drag as he speaks. ]
Impatient as ever. If only I had been there to witness you... although I might have only teased you more.
[ his hand stalls at the base of his cock and squeezes softly. zhongli runs his tongue up the smooth, dripping underside of his cock. the light vestiges of cryo prickle his mouth like half-melted chips of ice.
finally he lowers his mouth over the head of childe's cock—but he sinks all of him into his mouth, tongue flattened against it, suppressing all urges to cough or gag.
when the tip of his nose presses to childe's skin, he works himself into a glide, sucking and groaning softly as he exhales. the liquid gathers at his lips, trails down his throat as he swallows, but beneath the light sweetness is the unmistakable taste of childe—bitter salt and cream sticking to his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
he won't tease him. if anything, zhongli is hungry to make him come. ]
no subject
[Terrible tease, is probably where that sentence was going. But unsurprisingly, it doesn't last once Zhongli takes him in, his words breaking off into a loud curse and then a low groan. It takes every ounce of willpower he's got not to thrust forward, the chill from the liquid clashing violently against the wet heat of Zhongli's mouth, and his grip on the table turns iron-tight. He may or may not break it.]
Zhongli. [If he were a different sort of man, he'd probably be embarrassed by the desperation clear in his tone. But Childe has never cared about things like that, and he's not about to start now. If Zhongli makes him feel good, makes him crave more--what shame is there in that? Besides, Childe would bet the entirety of Northland Bank that there's not a soul in Liyue who could resist Zhongli.
(Except maybe the lesbians. That's up for debate.)
His other hand, the one that had been dancing over Zhongli's face, shifts to rest at the base of his neck instead. He can't look away from Zhongli's face, and it's the sight of him, perhaps even more than the press of his lips, his throat, that draw a deep shudder from Childe's core.]
Zhongli, please. [He's not sure he could pinpoint exactly what it is he's pleading for, at this point. They couldn't have been flirting and teasing for more than twenty minutes, but it feels like he's been wound up for weeks. He doesn't bother trying to finish his sentence, though; he trusts that Zhongli will understand.]
no subject
childe groans and shudders, moans his name, and it's liquid fire through zhongli's golden blood. no amount of his imagination could conjure these sounds from his throat or the tremors in his hips. zhongli's gaze flickers up, and the dazed, desperate look in his cerulean eyes makes his lower stomach clench. he would keep that gaze as long as he could.
ah, they've reached that point. zhongli slows his pace to a halt, tightening his lips as they settle on the base of his length. he slides childe's swollen cock from his mouth and lets it drop stiffly over his stomach. when he leans back, he takes in the full measure of childe as he licks the line of spit from his lips. childe is a miracle: his open lips, the shine of sweat slowly building on his skin, his scar-laden chest and standing nipples, his drooling cock. zhongli's hunger swells in his chest. he would devour childe in the only way he can. ]
Very well.
[ he wipes his slick palm against the side of childe's hip. with both hands mostly clean, he pulls childe's boots from his feet and rolls his pants down after them. as he slips one leg from his ankle, he leans between childe's legs and briefly sinks his teeth into his inner thigh, pricking his skin with sharpened canines. blood touches on his tongue, metallic and warm. he sets his hands onto childe's bare thighs for leverage—warm, supple, tensed—and after he lets go, he cleans the wound with one slow lick. ]
Tell me what it is you want.
[ he did understand what childe meant. he just wants to hear it, because he's a terrible tease. ]