[ 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. ]
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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. ]