Archive of Our Own

It begins in the shower.

Not the sex, mind, though that had happened before. The shower merely introduces the thought.

“So, out of curiosity, I’m not being insecure or anything. How often do you date mortals?” Childe asks, point blank and out of nowhere. He grabs the soap and runs it over himself while Zhongli stands under the spray. Apparently, gods’ bodies are just puppet sacks and don’t actually sweat or get oily hair or anything, leaving Zhongli to brush his teeth and rinse off before watching Childe go through the laborious process of cleansing mortal muck. Asshole.

“You are the first mortal I have courted.”

“Zhongli, you can’t tell me you’ve walked this land for 6000 years and haven’t taken a mortal lover.”

The look on Zhongli’s face screams discomfort. 

“It depends on how you define lover,” he responds, and Childe grins in delight.

“Meaning…” he eggs, because Zhongli would just leave it at that.

“It was a different time.” Childe nudges Zhongli out from under the spray to take it for himself, and cocks an eyebrow (he actually can’t move them independently, and feels both crawl up his forehead, but the idea should still get across).

It does, because Zhongli looks sheepish in a way he has too much elegance and not enough shame to often express.

“Early communities were... proactive about establishing traditions to thank their gods for assistance. Additionally, many of them fetishized intercourse with deities. They established several rituals wherein I was to bed a community member to solidify my bond with that community.”

...

Childe is so happy right now. 

“So people gave you virgin sacrifices and you took them,” He surmises. Oh archons, yes, Zhongli definitely looks outright embarrassed.

He also takes offense.

“I was clear that all participants must desire it without coercion or external pressure.”

He sounds almost petulant, and of course the archon of fair trades would set such terms.  

“Of course you did,” Childe says through a smile, “but you could have just had them stop using that ritual.”

Zhongli says something about how he was much younger and didn’t see the issue with the arrangement at the time, which, yes, Childe laughs at because an embarrassed Zhongli is just the cutest, and the mental image of his blank, ‘what tf am I supposed to do with this’ face the first time humans planted a blushing virgin at his feet is hilarious, but amused is actually not his primary response to this discovery.

His primary response to this discovery is that the idea of Zhongli acting like a god is hot.

That doesn't even mean anything, acting like a god. The gods all rule in their own styles, there is no set “godly behavior.”

But he has a very clear idea of what Zhongli acting like a god means, and it’s full of self assured commands, the expectation of them being followed, and Childe following gladly because,

uh,

He doesn’t actually know.

He should want to fight back. Be difficult and combative so Zhongli has to wrangle him into compliance in a show of superiority, as much a battle as Childe craves any other time.

Instead he thinks about being on his knees, Zhongli’s hand in his hair, gently guiding Childe’s head between his legs. When Childe goes easily, mouthing at the bulge in his pants, he can feel Zhongli’s approving hum reverberate through him.

It’s not the kind of thought he wants to be having in the middle of a bank. It’s also not particularly appropriate to imagine what it might feel like to wear Zhongli’s symbols around his neck while he’s supposed to be observing agents train, so he has them attack him en masse to keep himself occupied and calls dibs on some field work. Keep himself occupied, and alone.

—

Predictably, because Childe is sure that every adolescent in Liyue passes this rite of aging and he was just late to the party, Childe finds himself staring at a statue.

It’s not the first time he has studied this statue - he’d done it when he was mad about the whole Incident, looking for every sign that had been right under his nose. He’d done it since, every time he came for healing and chuckled to himself for daring to sit in a sacred stone lap while it did its work.

It is, however, the first time he has thought so hard about why he likes sitting in the sacred stone lap.

He could have straddled it, irreverent and bratty about making a sex joke out of a symbol of protection. He could have perched on the shoulder, so he could stare down at the world in defiance.

Every time, he had nestled into the chest, leaning his head on the shoulder so he could appreciate the detail given to the lines of Zhongli’s face.

It’s the authority, he thinks. That relaxed posture. Zhongli said that the original Seven had commissioned the statues as part of their contract to protect humanity, establishing points of safety throughout the land, and they had each imbued the statues with some of their power.

That meant an actual human had created this rendition of their god, which meant that at some point in time this is how he had conveyed himself to his people.

Rex Lapis owned this land. Things would be as he willed it because he willed it. He did not need to best anyone to have his way. He didn’t even need to raise his voice.

That was how Zhongli behaved as a god, and if he’d been planted at Zhongli’s feet as an offering in the days of yore, he’d,

Well.

Childe sees himself at a shrine, presented in front of the throne draped in silk and gold.

Might as well see what he’d do.

“Welcome home!” Childe chirps. Shoes clatter at the entryway, before soft footfalls bring Zhongli into sight. “I hope you weren’t in the mood for anything in particular; I got in early and decided to make dinner.”

“Childe.” Zhongli rumbles, in that one particular deep tone. It lasts no more than a word or two before he falls into his usual cadence, but it sends a flash of something tingly and warm up Childe’s spine. That voice feels like open arms. Intimate, relieved to be back in a safe, personal space, possessive like Childe belongs in that space.

It always makes Childe want to fall into his gravity.

Stupid, that he hadn't noticed before that he’s always responded to Zhongli like this.

“It is unusual for you to be in so early.” Zhongli moves in to kiss his head, glancing at the stove as he pulls back. “And you’ve been at work a while already. May I help?”

“No, no,” Childe waves him away. “It’s almost done. Settle in, it’ll be out in a minute.” Childe grins, turning back to the stove as Zhongli sends a fond smile back and glides away. It’d be just about ready by the time Zhongli got into his evening clothes, as planned.

“I took some fieldwork for the afternoon and it finished up in no time, so I thought I’d practice my specialty.” He says when Zhongli returns. He’s dressed in a light robe and sleeping pants, and Childe laughs when Zhongli looks down at the table quizzically.

“My new specialty, idiot.” Zhongli’s face smoothes out as they sit. For his part, Childe’s heart gives a kick when he takes his seat around the corner from Zhongli’s. Never across. Next to Zhongli is better. He ignores the nervous knot that appears in his stomach.

“I had not realized you’d declared this dish your specialty,” he says. 

“Mhmm!” Childe pops a dumpling in his mouth, sending Zhongli a bright grin. He’s been experimenting with fusions, and Sneznhayan dumplings with some of the spices used for jade parcels had been a hit with both of them. It was nice, mastering something that was theirs. Perfect to be his specialty.

“Ah, there is less chili in the sauce, and you’ve added ginger.”

“Yup! I thought the chili was kind of overpowering, and the ginger brightens it up a bit, doesn’t it? I made the wrapping thinner this time too, like you suggested. Don’t hold it against me if they fall apart though, they didn’t want to behave.” His touch isn’t exactly delicate, but Zhongli had been right that the texture was better.

All fine. He could practice.

Zhongli huffs a laugh, and picks up the next dumpling in a hold so gentle Childe thinks the heavenly principles should demand that it slip right through the chopsticks.

His would be the ones to break, of course.

“Ginger’s pungency is strongly influenced by the conditions of the soil in which it is grown, though its flavor is more resilient. There is a market in the northern part of the city with a good reputation for offering variety in their produce, since they buy the same ingredients from suppliers distributed across Liyue, and the agricultural environments differ drastically. The ginger we have now was likely grown at a southern farm, given that the flavor is perfectly balanced with the other spices, but the scent profile is weaker. Since its purpose in the dish is to brighten -“

Zhongli goes on about where they should get their ginger from, and Childe listens, he does, and he also takes the inherent compliment that Zhongli has switched from improvements to how the meal is made to sourcing better ingredients, but it’s really not why he came home early to put Zhongli at ease with a homemade meal.

“Let’s pick it ourselves!” He cuts in, when Zhongli mentions that ginger grown in a region to the northeast might have the profile they’re looking for. “There are some ruins around there that you can tell me about, and it’d be way more fun to hunt them from the wild than walking to the store.”

Zhongli squints at him. “You realize that foraging requires more digging than hunting.”

“Yeah, yeah. Still. Digging our own roots, like catching our own fish! It’ll taste better that way.”

Yes, he has an agenda. Actually bringing it up is another matter.

He hadn’t exactly been sexually active before they’d started dating, and, yeah, this wasn’t weird. People definitely did this. He just didn’t know the words to use for it. Maybe he should do some research before saying anything, actually learn the right words.

Setting up a domestic night full of themness had seemed like enough of a plan when the only criteria were privacy and Zhongli feeling comfortable. The biggest risk had been that Zhongli would be discomfited by the idea, or that he’d think Childe asking for it meant something was wrong. Childe could easily navigate the those concerns as long as they were in a setting where Zhongli felt safe. Unrushed.

But it hinged on Childe being able to start the conversation, which had seemed like a non issue considering it was all he’d been able to think about today.

...right.

“Hey, Zhongli.” Childe turns in his chair so he can look at Zhongli straight on.

“Yes?”

Think about it.

He could see himself on the floor by Zhongli’s chair, resting his head on Zhongli’s thigh. Zhongli would play with his hair with the hand unoccupied by eating, and Childe could close his eyes, let his discourse on ginger wash over him.

“Baobei?”

“What do you think about getting me a collar?”

Mm.

“That’s not what I meant to say! Uhm,” Childe runs his hand through his hair, casting his gaze to the table before flicking back up to Zhongli. Zhongli looks down at the table too, appraising.

“These days, women and men are equally involved in Liyue’s commercial sector,” he begins, and Childe lets his hand fall into his lap. Zhongli is…probably going somewhere with this.

“However, it has not always been so. When resources were less plentiful, and the majority of the population performed physical labor over business management, women were often more responsible for child rearing. There were exceptions, of course, but the pattern had men working in the fields or mines while women maintained the home.

“Many sayings established by the norms of that era are still in use today. Among them were several around the idea that a wife would feed her husband when he returned from work.”

Mmmmmm.

“Since the labor was so physically taxing, the concept of a wife’s 'place' being in the kitchen arose from the situational overlap of a married couple taking care of each other and food being the husband’s primary need after returning home. Additionally, it was customary for the wife to make her husband’s favorites when she had bad news.”

Is he done yet? Childe would like to crawl into the river.

“Though the context around these sayings is grossly outdated, it stands that feeding a person when they are hungry improves their temperament, thereby improving their chances of responding favorably to a situation they might otherwise not.”

Zhongli finally looks back up at him, pinning him down with a golden gaze that…could be more intense, really. The smile playing at his lips makes the whole thing come off as teasing, or reassuring. Yeah, probably supposed to be reassuring.

“Childe, did you prepare dinner because you wish to talk about something that makes you uncomfortable?”

Childe represses some nervous laughter, opting to lean on the table rather than fidget with his hair more.

“Not so much that makes me uncomfortable. I’m more worried that it might make you uncomfortable.”

“And the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” Zhongli fills in, voice warm with amusement. He leans forward with a helpless smile while Childe pouts.

“How did you figure that out but not think it was worth apologizing for the contract!”

“I rely on past observations to make inferences.” Zhongli defends, straightening up primly. “This situation had many context clues, while matters of forgiveness are highly variable. By the by, would you consider letting me live that down eventually?”

“Nope!” Childe throws him a smile to soften the blow. Zhongli does still worry that Childe resents him for that, though he’s only teasing. “You did just make a fool of me again, but I walked into it,” he adds with a huff of a laugh, leaning back and popping another dumpling in his mouth. Buy himself some time for Zhongli to say something before Childe has to.

“Childe,” Zhongli says, “I am too old, and have seen too much, to be uncomfortable with just about anything. You can tell me.”

Childe’s lips twist, swallowing quickly.

“We don’t have to you don’t want to!” He blurts, surging forward in insistence.

“If I don’t want to buy you a collar?”

This is a strange sensation. Not one he's familiar with. He knows what he wants, but his head is blank, and he casts around for words that he knows are there but comes up with a faint buzzing. He stares at the table, working a scratch into the wood with a fingernail.

“If you would prefer, I can ramble about everything I know relating to couples wearing collars.”

The worst part of that is it’s not even teasing. Zhongli will think out loud until he guesses right. It would actually probably be his easiest option, since he doesn’t have to talk.

But he doesn’t want to. He started this. Zhongli shouldn’t have to guess what he’s thinking.

“After last night, in the shower,” he says to the scratch in the table. “I’ve been thinking, about what it might feel like to be treated like an offering. Like, if you were in charge. And I was.” Obedient. He chews on his lip. “Not in charge.”

Great job, Harbinger. He should stick to fighting.

“If you were not in charge.” Zhongli echoes. He sounds…considering. Like he thinks he understands and is considering it.

“What scenarios have you imagined?” Childe balks.

“Do I have to describe them?!”

“Yes.” Delivered steady as stone.

Of course. Zhongli always likes things stated explicitly. Can’t be sure everyone agrees they’re fair, otherwise. Childe swallows, tapping now where the scratch has been dug. It’s fine; it’s not that deep. He’ll fix it.

“Well, like. Uhm,”

“My love.” Zhongli interrupts. “Let’s finish dinner. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Oh, uhm.” Childe glances up in question. Zhongli just looks, calm. Gentle. He leans over to kiss Childe’s temple, settling back down and lifting his chopsticks.

“You are uncomfortable. I’d rather talk about it in circumstances that put you at ease.”

Unfair. That’s what Childe had been trying to do! His face flushes hot, and he takes a bite in distraction.

“If we are to forage our own ginger, this is the season to do it. We’ll want check with -“

Ginger. Childe is never putting ginger in this meal again.

Later, they’re bundled in bed, Childe wrapped up in Zhongli’s arms while his head lays on his chest.

It’s a position they take often, when they’re winding down for sleep but not yet ready for their actual sleep positions. But it’s different, somehow. Usually Childe is sprawled out across Zhongli. Zhongli’s hand will loosely play with his hair, or draw patterns across the freckles on his shoulder. 

This is more…secure. Zhongli is holding him, tight so Childe can feel his strength but not constricting. It’s like, like Zhongli’s comforting him, which is a little mortifying but also. It feels nice.

“Breathe, Baobei. You’re tense.” Childe forcibly relaxes, a deep inhale to gather the tension, a long exhale to release it.

He kind of. Kind of loves it, yeah.

He’d skipped his usual meditation since Zhongli had shuffled him into sleepwear soon as they’d cleaned up. He’d have to do it later; it’s too early to sleep anyway.

Gather the tension, and release it. He listens to Zhongli’s breaths, pacing his own to match until there’s no tension to release.

“Tell me what you’ve been thinking about,” Zhongli prompts, hushed. Childe nuzzles his nose into Zhongli’s chest. He has to talk about it if he wants them to do it. “Begin with the most recent one. What were you thinking when you asked about a collar?”

“Well,” Childe takes a deep breath. “That one was actually, a mix up? I thought about, if I was sitting on the floor. Could rest my head on your leg while you talked. But um, earlier. It wasn’t a specific scenario, I just imagined feeling,” another shuddering breath. Gods, get yourself together Childe. You always just say what you mean. “I thought about feeling something around my neck, and knowing it represented you.” He finishes, voice finally firm.

What is he freaking out about, anyway. Zhongli is clearly taking all of this fine. He’s doing great, actually, and for a moment the security of this hold strikes him again. Any nervousness he’s feeling now is for himself, and that’s just stupid.

“You’re always in command of everything. I like it. Talking about the rituals last night just made me think about you pointing that authority toward me, and I like that too.” He says, with only a blush to give himself away. Not that Zhongli can see that anyway.

“Hmm,” Zhongli breathes. “Tell me another.”

“It’s been a day, I haven’t exactly curated a library,” Childe breathes a laugh, stretching into a more relaxed position. “I suppose…it’s not specific, but I just want to follow orders.”

“Ah. I am comfortable with that. I’ve no desire to belittle you or treat you as meaningless, as an offering to a god implies. But I rather like the idea of taking care of you, and holding the reins offers a perfect opportunity to do that.”

“Oh, I think that’s what I want too!” It hadn’t crossed his mind that being an offering would mean anything bad. He just wants to be…handled. Childe props his elbow on Zhongli’s chest so he can see his face. “I don’t know about the taking care of me bit, but holding the reins. I don’t want to feel unimportant. I have enough of that as it is.” Zhongli’s brows furrow, and he pushes on to keep him from focusing on that.

“I want to fall into you, and feel like I’m yours.” Zhongli’s face clears into a soft smile, and he rolls them onto their sides. Childe’s head falls into the crook of his elbow, as Zhongli’s free hand runs along his side.

“You are mine, sweetheart.” Childe’s breath catches at the endearment. That’s new. “I am happy to bring the feeling of that into our intimacy.” Childe’s lips quirk at the phrasing, and he pushes forward for kiss. Such a romantic, his god.

“How do we start?” He asks, pulling back. Zhongli chuckles at him, nudging him away.

“With you doing your meditation. Do you think you’ll be home at the usual time tomorrow?”

Home. Childe doesn’t technically live here, and he still gets a flush of warmth every time Zhongli talks like he does.

“Probably. I can make sure to be.” Zhongli nods.

“I’ll bring home dinner. We’ll eat, and then you’ll clean up. I will put clothes in the bathroom; dress in those and come to the bedroom when you’re done. Don’t rush it - make yourself relaxed and warm. Understand?” Childe jerks a nod, eyes trained on Zhongli’s.

“Are you familiar with the concept of safe words?” Childe shakes his head in a no. Zhongli sits up, twisting to face him, and Childe follows.

“We need a system for you to tell me if you dislike something, or need me to slow down. It is common to use colors. Red for stop, yellow for slow down, green when you’re comfortable. I may ask you for your color at any time. How does that sound?”

Kind of boring, honestly, but Childe nods again. It’s not like Zhongli’s going to hurt him.

“Childe, I would like verbal confirmation, please. You look unconvinced.” Oops. Serves him right; he’d stopped watching his mask around Zhongli ages ago.

“It’s fine. I just don’t think it will be a problem. I know you won’t hurt me.” Zhongli smiles, but his face is serious.

“That is true, and I am honored every day by the trust you place in me. However, you also keep tight control over yourself at all times. Ideas are very different from reality, and it’s possible that in the moment, you will not be as confident about letting go of control as you are now.”

Childe bites his lip. That’s the point. He doesn’t want to be in control of himself. Zhongli will be in control, so for once Childe won’t have to be. Then he blinks in surprise.

Was that the point? He’d just been thinking about how hot it would be for Zhongli to wield his commanding presence. But everything they’d talked about - Zhongli wanting to take care of him, the warmth and security Childe felt in his hold. There was nothing sexual about anything they’d done tonight, and he’d spent the whole time feeling like it was exactly what he wanted.

I want to fall into you, he’d said.

“Sweetheart?”

That nickname again.

“Okay. Yeah, I understand. I don’t want to do the colors though. Can we just have a word for pause? I promise to use it, so you don’t have to ask.”

“You don’t want me to ask?” Zhongli doesn’t sound like he’s challenging it. Just confirming. Childe shakes his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’d rather we just have something to fall back on if we need it, instead of checking in. Unnecessary interruptions.” Zhongli nods.

“Alright. As long as we use the pause word freely. It is not all on you, either; I’m also responsible for using our words if I become uncomfortable.” Zhongli dips his head for a moment, thinking. He looks back up with, “I want to keep the colors as a backup, but I’ll only use them if I am very concerned. Is that acceptable?”

“Mhmm!” He’ll just make sure Zhongli doesn’t get that concerned.

“Thank you. What word shall we use?”

“Hmm.” Childe leans back on his hands. “Something that we wouldn’t ever use during sex, right?” Zhongli nods, and Childe looks at the ceiling. Blood. Battle. Knife. Those shouldn’t come up, but. Just the words excite him, and it’s not like they’ve never snuck into conversation before.

He looks around the room. Something that he wouldn’t even joke about during sex. Nothing in the bedroom jumps out, and he casts his mind down the hall. The kitchen?

Knife. Nope, already ruled that out.

The image of a fine pair of chopsticks jump to mind. The decorative ones that he feels needlessly fancy using.

Perfect. He sits up, leaning toward Zhongli while a grin spreads across his face. Zhongli’s eyebrow rises (he actually can move them independently).

“Chopsticks!” Childe proclaims. Zhongli visibly tamps down a laugh, smiling at Childe with mirth in his eyes.

“Good.” He leans into Childe’s space, nuzzling into his nose, then pulls away with a peck to the corner of his lips. “Then let us go about our evening.” He shifts, settling against the headboard as he usually does to read while Childe goes through his nightly rituals. Childe shuffles off the bed, heading toward his corner of the room.

“You’re well versed in this.” He throws over his shoulder, settling onto the mat. Zhongli gives him a warm laugh, tossing his gaze over to him.

“I’ve observed humans for a long time. And I had to develop very specific terms for the practices you’re so intrigued by. I have particular tastes, but many of the intricacies in rites these days are the result of iterations wherein mortals attempted to ‘gift’ me something truly absurd. The more explicit my instructions, the better to keep them from getting creative.”

He turns back to his book, face falling slightly. Childe suppresses a wince. Probably thinking about the versions he’d had to correct. He wants to tease about how embarrassed Zhongli had seemed about this topic yesterday, distract him from the memories Childe had accidentally triggered, but Zhongli’s engrossed in his book already. Better to not press the topic.

Tomorrow. Get home, shower, dress, and present himself in front of Zhongli.

Childe closes his eyes, settling into his breaths.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow comes, and Childe finds himself standing in front of Zhongli dressed in the most luxurious silks he’s seen outside the Palace.

They’re in Zhongli’s colors, a deep brown robe with gold trim and matching pants. He’d think they were Zhongli’s sleep clothes but for the quality. Zhongli dresses in luxury as a rule, but these shimmer in the lamplight.

There’s also the silvery blue lapis deis embroidered on the tie around his waist. His color, Zhongli’s symbol.

Zhongli is sitting on the edge of their bed, dressed in his usual nightclothes. He beckons Childe with a lazy hand, so Childe approaches until he's bracketed between Zhongli’s legs. Zhongli leans back on a hand to look at his face, the other coming up to brush over the soft fabric covering his torso.

“You look lovely,” Zhongli says, in that one particular tone, and Childe feels his face break into a shy smile. He’d be lying if he said his heart isn’t beating harsh in his chest, but he keeps his eyes trained on Zhongli’s face. Zhongli had been right about the long shower. He’d been vibrating with anticipation all day, but the hot water had done wonders to relax the buzzing under his skin into a languid kind of excitement.

“You’ll wear these for every scene. Until I get you more; then I may make requests.” Zhongli says, the hint of a smirk dancing at his lips. Childe doesn’t know whether to laugh or gasp at the idea of Zhongli telling him what to wear, and what comes out is a breathy sort of giggle that turns the hint into a full smirk as Zhongli’s hand falls to his lap.

“Do you remember the safe words?” Childe nods once. “Good. I’d like to introduce a nonverbal signal. If at any point you want me to check in, tap me three times. Understand?”

Nonverbal? So Childe won’t be able to speak? He nods again, before remembering. “Yes.”

“Demonstrate on my arm and thigh.” This is a bit overkill, but Childe obeys, reaching out to Zhongli’s bicep, then ducking to do the same on his thigh.

He’s already flushing, just following silly commands. Childe’s chest is tight as he straightens up, hand falling to his side to await instruction.

“Good. My sweet boy,” Zhongli says, gaze intent on Childe’s face. Childe’s breath hitches, sweet boy. He’s never been sweet in his life, and hearing it feels strange and awkward, but Zhongli seems happy with his reaction, because he stands, shuffling Childe back to make space for him.

Zhongli cups his face, pulling him into a kiss that Childe is happy to lose himself in, nerves settling with every second of Zhongli’s soft lips on his own. His hands come up to touch him, catching the arm caressing his face and Zhongli’s chest. Zhongli hums approvingly, his other arm coming around Childe’s waist to pull him closer.

“Undress me,” he rumbles against Childe’s lips. Childe immediately goes to the tie around his waist, tugging on the loose knot until it flutters to the floor. The robe falls open around him, and he brings his hands to Zhongli’s chest, running up his shoulders until it follows the tie to the ground.

Childe shivers, pressing closer to Zhongli’s skin, gripping broad shoulders. There’s a noise of complaint when Zhongli nudges him back, before hands come to his own clothes, peeling him out of the robe. They move to his ass, tugging him into Zhongli’s body while Zhongli bites at his lower lip, and a soft, surprised moan escapes him.

Zhongli grabs his hips, easing him back enough to tear their lips apart. Childe’s eyes flash open, mouth open as he pants softly. Did he -

Zhongli pushes his pants off his hips, holding his gaze as they pool around his feet. Childe steps out of them, back toward Zhongli with a question in his eyes. Is this what he’s supposed to do? But Zhongli smiles, soft with affection.

“Step back, Sweetheart. So you can see me.”

Childe swallows, stepping back into the puddle of his silks as Zhongli pushes his own pants down, kicking them aside. Zhongli sits, legs wide - enough for Childe to kneel between, he’s sure - before he reaches a hand behind his neck to pull his hair free of its band. It cascades over his shoulders, and Childe loves Zhongli’s hair down. It’s gorgeous, one simple change and he doesn’t look mortal anymore, clearly divine in how obviously otherworldly his beauty is.

Childe feels flushed across his whole body now, like their first few times together when he’d been getting used to affectionate touch. There had been touching then though, never a moment apart, and these few feet are torture. He wants -

“Come here, my love.” He rushes back into Zhongli’s space, back to how they’d started, except instead of leaning back to look at him, Zhongli grabs his hips, avoiding his cock as he leans forward to press a kiss to his abdomen.

Then he nudges him down, to his knees. Exactly where Childe expected to be.

Zhongli is hard in front of him, and he’s pretty sure he’s allowed to put his mouth on him, but he looks up to be sure. Zhongli’s hand appears in his hair, scratching at his scalp lightly, and Childe leans into it, eyes fluttering closed.

“Eyes on me.”

Childe obeys immediately, gazing into Zhongli’s eyes. They’re riveting as always, like Zhongli can hold him immobile just by willing it so, but there’s something more. A quiet tension as he waits for instruction, and for once he’s not driven to act in the stillness, happy to look into Zhongli’s eyes as he’d been asked and drink in the satisfaction of knowing he’d done right.

“Beautiful,” Zhongli mutters, before guiding Childe’s head between his legs. Childe’s eyes drop, nuzzling into the base of Zhongli’s cock before placing kitten licks on the side, mouthing his way up until he can place an open mouthed kiss on the head, flicking his tongue over the slit. Zhongli’s breath hitches.

The hand in his hair is stabilizing, but not guiding, so Childe starts slowly, heavy like the air in the room. He takes the head into his mouth, sucking lightly before laving his tongue over the notch beneath it. He makes his way down, matching the pace they’d undressed with - languid, intimate - until the head rubs against the soft palette at the back of his throat.

He suckles there, shaking his head to push it just that one centimeter further before he pulls back to the head, taking a quick breath through his nose before he descends again, dragging his hand ahead of his mouth to slick the places he can’t reach. He sets a comfortable rhythm, reaching as far as he can, retreating with a hollow cheeked suck to swirl his tongue over the head while his hand plays with the base. 

Just as his jaw begins to ache, Zhongli presses him forward. Childe swallows when he can’t go any further, and the head slips into his throat, pushing further and further until his lips settle at the base. He holds it for a moment, then pulls back, panting harshly through his nose.

He’s always had trouble doing that, much as he’d like to for the way Zhongli enjoys it.

The hand presses again. This time, when the head hits the back of his throat, it’s harder to swallow around it, but he wants to be good, and he so loves the feeling of Zhongli’s length in him. When he succeeds, Zhongli purrs, hand still gripping where he’d used a fistful of Childe’s hair to push him forward. But when Childe attempts to pull off, the hand stays, locking him in place.

His eyes jerk to Zhongli’s, wide in surprise. Zhongli is staring at him, a flush in his cheeks, and the message is clear in the iron grip in his hair and the stoic face staring down at him. Okay, Childe thinks as his eyes slip closed. This works.

He can wait, he wants to, a thrill going through him as he starts thinking about air. He’d asked for this, and it’s a brilliant way to deliver.

The burn in his chest is intensifying though, and Childe screws his eyes against it, throat convulsing against the hard rod in his mouth. It feels good, he thinks, almost like coming, except the clenching in his core is accompanied by a distant sense of alarm.

His hips start to fidget involuntarily, searching for friction or just trying to move away without actually moving away. He wants air, and he loves that he doesn’t have it, it feels so good, but it burns. He’s so close, any little thing would send him over the edge, but he needs to breathe, his whole body fidgeting now and tears leaking from his closed eyes as he strives for that little bit more and waits. How much longer?

“Shhh, shhh, it’s okay, look at me,” Zhongli coos, petting Childe’s hair where his other palm isn’t already tangled in it. Childe glances up and catches Zhongli’s eyes, gentle, always so gentle for him. They seem to glow in the darkness. Through the ache in his lungs, Childe feels the hands in his hair, the look on Zhongli’s face, the warmth of the legs bracketing him, the cock in his throat. And he understands.

Despite the burn, Childe relaxes, melting his body further into Zhongli’s. Zhongli won’t let him hurt. When he needs air, he’ll give it to him. There’s no need to struggle.

Zhongli smiles, pleased, and runs his fingers through the place his mask used to lay one more time before pulling Childe off.

Childe gasps, panting harshly as he folds over himself. A few stray tears hit the wood below him as he coughs weakly, too starved for air to properly appease the scratching in his throat.

“You did so well,” Zhongli murmurs, leaning over to wrap Childe in his arms. He’s kissing Childe’s head, running hands over his shoulders, cupping his cheek. Childe tilts until his cheek rests on Zhongli’s knee, still breathing heavily, and gazes unseeingly at the skin of Zhongli’s thigh. “Perfect, you’re so perfect. Beautiful, Childe.”

Zhongli pulls back, securing his hands on each side of Childe’s face to look at him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, searching Childe’s face. Childe huffs a laugh, a dopey smile spreading across his face. His breath is beginning to even, and there’s a pleasant buzzing under his skin.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bringing a hand up to rest on Zhongli’s wrist where it’s holding his cheek. “I’m good.”

Zhongli pulls him up, gathering him onto the bed so that he’s straddling his lap and slumped into him. He still feels dazed, but there’s a restlessness settling in on the edges of his mind, and he squirms minutely in Zhongli’s arms. Neither of them had come yet, as close as he’d felt before.

A hand appears on his dick, the other a bracketing warmth around him, and Childe tenses, closing his eyes and curling into Zhongli’s body. Yes, he thinks, burying his face into Zhongli’s neck. One, two, three, four strokes and he comes, gasping hotly into the juncture of Zhongli’s shoulder.

He slumps, boneless, the buzzing from before reduced to a hum. He’s warm and comfortable, can feel the blush radiating from his skin, but as he sinks further into Zhongli’s lap, his softening cock brushes against where Zhongli is still hard and he flinches back. Too sensitive.

“You’re still hard,” he mumbles, and Zhongli runs an arm up Childe’s back.

Early in their relationship, when they’d newly added the sex part, Zhongli had made comments about how he was old enough to not feel the need to come every time. Something about no part of the experience being better than another and he was satiated simply getting to be with Childe intimately.

Childe called fucking shenanigans and made sure that Zhongli always came, but with Zhongli calling the shots this time...

“Would you like me to fuck you,” Zhongli rumbles into his ear, and Childe feels his entire body seize up, a shudder working through him. Did Zhongli actually think he’d say no to that?

His throat still hurts and his lungs ache with a recently forgotten burn, and he absolutely obviously wants Zhongli to fuck him.

“Mmh.” He whines instead, squirming until he can grind his ass onto Zhongli’s dick. It should be answer enough.

It is, because Zhongli smiles against his ear and Childe’s world tips as Zhongli leans over to the side drawer, Childe still firmly in his grasp.

“Of course you do,” he replies once they’re settled again, and then slick fingers appear at Childe’s entrance. He must be more out of it than he thought, because he hadn’t even heard Zhongli open the bottle. He adjusts himself for better access, tilting his hips into Zhongli’s fingers, and Zhongli hisses so good in reward before a long finger sinks into him in one smooth motion.

It punches a rattling breath from Childe’s chest, the first finger always so foreign no matter how many times his lover takes him. He tightens around it before forcibly relaxing, rocking gently into the finger to encourage another.

“No,” Zhongli says, moving the hand not pressed into Childe to rest on his hip. “Be still.”

The words themselves are nearly enough to send another shiver through him, but Childe relaxes, pressing a kiss into Zhongli’s neck. Zhongli is so warm.

The finger pistons, three long strokes against his insides in a way that is almost ticklish before it’s suddenly two fingers, and maybe Zhongli likes being in charge more than he admits because there’s no way that wasn’t designed to make Childe keen, jerking involuntarily before he stills himself again. His hair is sticking to his face, already a mess from Zhongli’s hands in it and now damp as a rush of heat spreads through him, sweat prickling on his skin. He feels himself harden again as the fingers begin their work, scissoring and rubbing against him.

Another kiss lands on his ear right before Zhongli adds a third finger, curling them up against his sweet spot before he can even register the addition, and Childe can’t help but moan desperately, leaning into the feeling and dropping sloppy kisses on the shoulder beneath him. The hand on his hip tightens in warning, and Childe’s mouth drops open against Zhongli’s skin. It’s definitely enough to leave bruises, and between that and the sparks running through his body as Zhongli rubs against his prostate, Childe just wants,

“Zhongli,” he pleads. He’s trembling against Zhongli now, hard between his legs but still relaxed from his first time. There’s no urgency to come, yet, but he wants Zhongli buried inside him, and he maybe understands why Zhongli insists that coming isn’t always the main goal.

Zhongli pulls him forward, removing his fingers to settle Childe upright and flush against him. The position change grants Childe a breath of cool air, above Zhongli now where he’d been wrapped up in Zhongli’s space and breathing air warmed by their bodies. He looks down, finds dark hair pressing a kiss to his sternum, and reaches down to cradle that head until Zhongli looks up at him. A smile spreads across Zhongli’s face as he pets idly at Childe’s flank. It’s a funny gesture, a soothing ‘good boy,’ and Childe is a little embarrassed despite preening at those words earlier, but Zhongli looks pleased, content like this, and Childe smiles helplessly back before Zhongli guides him down until the tip presses against his entrance.

And waits.

This asshole. But Childe knows the game now. He wins when he accepts that Zhongli will give him what he needs in due time, so he waits too, staring into Zhongli’s eyes patiently.

And then Zhongli is pressing into him in the same smooth motion he’d fingered him with, bottoming out immediately. 

He loves this, he loves this, the too-full feeling, the heat of it, the

“Gods,” he breathes out, folding over so he’s breathing Zhongli’s air again. He can’t help squeezing around him, just to feel how his muscles flutter. The groan he gets against his ear in response pulls a shaky hahh from him, squeezing again reflexively before Zhongli interrupts him with a shallow thrust. The breath turns into a soft shout.

Zhongli gives a few shallow thrusts, undirected like he’s more enjoying the feel of Childe around him than concerned with fucking him, before the world is shifting, wrapped in Zhongli’s arms as gravity moves until he’s lying down, splayed out beneath Zhongli and spread around his cock.

“Don’t move,” Zhongli commands, and now he’s concerned with fucking him. Childe’s caught between losing himself in the feeling and making sure his limbs stay still, denying the instinct to latch onto him as desperate moans punctuate every thrust.

“Open your mouth.” Childe opens his eyes to find Zhongli’s trained on his waiting mouth, as he dips two fingers in, pressing ever so lightly against his tongue. Childe closes his mouth to suck on them, muffling his own moans, but,

“No.” Zhongli stops, grinding into his prostate as Childe's mouth falls back open. He keeps grinding until Childe’s fingers start to twitch, tongue pressing up against the fingers in his mouth, and then he stops.

“Don’t move.” Zhongli repeats, voice rough. “Keep your mouth open, and take what you are given.” The fingers retreat, resting below his lips.

What? His mouth is so empty. Come back, please, come back, need you, please,

Childe pleads with his eyes, and tries to make a questioning sound, but with his mouth open it’s just a pitiful little ah?

He doesn’t have time to be embarrassed, because everything’s happening all at once again.

Zhongli moves, mercifully gliding across his prostate instead of jamming into it, and his fingers shove back into his mouth, rubbing down on his tongue, pushing against the back of his throat, running across his cheeks and the back of his teeth. Childe opens his mouth wider to accommodate, caught in the way Zhongli’s eyes fixate on his lips, and Zhongli seems to jolt. He angles the next thrust to target Childe’s prostate, pulling a helpless moan as he speeds up and Childe’s eyes slide shut, breath leaving him in one long whine, he’s so close.

Childe comes with Zhongli’s cock against his prostate and fingers pressing down his tongue, and he drifts.

“- good, beautiful. So beautiful, sweetheart, you’ve done so well.” Zhongli’s muttering when his senses return. His hand has trailed from his mouth to rest on his chest, wet fingers dipping into his clavicle. Childe whines at the feeling, enough pressure to feel like a claim without exerting his overstimulated senses.

Zhongli had shifted them while he’d been out, curling Childe’s hips up so Zhongli could stay deep while he leaned in. It leaves his legs hanging around his  An elbow lays next to his head, hand tangled in his hair, bringing Zhongli’s face close.

“Just perfect, perfect for me.” Zhongli’s voice is low, reverent and possessive in one, and he lowers his forehead to Childe’s, hips stuttering. Their eyes are both half mast, and all Childe can see is gold, gold, gold. 

“Zhongli,” Childe mumbles against his lips, loose with his orgasm. “Can I touch you; please?”  The hand resting on his chest tightens, pressing down just that bit more as Zhongli nods on groan.

Childe’s arms come around him immediately, clinging, and that’s when Zhongli breaks. He buries himself deep in Childe, hips jumping forward once, and Childe pulls a long breath through his teeth, heat filling him.

Zhongli slumps into him, and Childe soaks in the comfortable weight of him for the moment it takes Zhongli to roll to his side, gathering Childe in his arms.

Childe is exhausted, body heavy and brain a mushy pile of warmth. He feels a soft kiss press into his lips, before everything fades into a soft doze.

He wakes to the smell of incense and tea, wrapped in blankets and bundled into Zhongli’s lap. Zhongli is propped against the headboard, back in his robe, but it does little good with the way his legs are splayed to let Childe sit between them, leaning on his chest.

“Hello,” he says, when he feels Childe stir. He leans toward the side table to pour a cup of tea, but Childe can hear the smile in his voice without needing to see. 

“Mmh.” Zhongli passes over the cup. Childe wriggles up to take it, and the first sip washes over him, hot and full bodied. It’s perfectly brewed, of course, because the God of Fine Tastes did it, and it reminds him of sitting on a rock drinking shitty travel coffee in its contrast.

How life changes.

He feels more awake when he lowers the cup, leaning his head back into Zhongli’s chest. He means to hold onto it, but Zhongli’s hand appears, hovering until Childe gives in and passes it off. Zhongli holds it close to him, easy to take back when he wants more.

“I can hold my own cup,” Childe quips, and Zhongli makes this hilarious harrumph sound.

“Let me take care of you.” He presses a kiss to his head. It makes Childe squirm, embarrassed but pleased.

“Hmmm,” he hums a content little sound, closing his eyes against the embarrassment. “I feel so…” tired doesn’t seem to cut it. Wrung out in a good way. Like all the excess energy that scratches at the edges of his mind is KO’d, and he can just be.

“Thank you,” he says instead, leaning back so he can see Zhongli’s face. “I feel great.”

“I am glad, beloved.” Zhongli tightens the arm cradling Childe to his chest. “But do not thank me. I greatly enjoyed this opportunity.” Childe frowns.

“But you had to do all the work. I’m not selfish.” He’s not. Childe works hard to be a good lover, like he works to be a good brother. The perfect version of what that role should be.

“You are not selfish,” Zhongli soothes. “You were exquisite. That’s why I don’t want you to thank me.” He lays the teacup on his side table, so he can bring that hand to caress Childe’s head. Always where his mask lays, as though to remind him he’s off duty. “I’ve done you no favors.” Zhongli insists. “The ‘work’ to pull you apart is well worth the effort. It satisfies me to do it. I want to take care of you - if we’re doing thanks, I should thank you for allowing me.”

“But,”

It doesn’t make sense.

“It doesn’t make much sense,” Childe says. “You’ve spent eons taking care of people; wasn’t the point of the whole thing to get rid of that responsibility?”

“It is different,” Zhongli replies, dropping his hand to caress the side of his neck. His thumb runs along Childe’s jaw. “It’s nice, being devoted.”

Zhongli is plenty devoted. Devoted to his people’s well-being, devoted to Guizhong’s legacy, enough to drive himself mad with exhaustion. But he doesn’t say it, because if Zhongli wants to be devoted to him, he clearly reaps the benefits. Instead, he makes to nuzzle back into Zhongli’s chest, but, 

“I want to experience the life my people have,” Zhongli continues. Childe blinks. He knows, he’s always said he did this to live a mortal life, but Zhongli shakes his head as though he knows what Childe is thinking.

“Loving as a god is distant. I love my people, but there are so many of them, and they are so far away. Even walking among them, I could observe, and go through the motions, but I could never truly partake.” Childe’s not sure if Zhongli’s aware of his hand, at this point. It moves back up to brush along his bangs. “To love individually, to love a person and know them in the entirety of who they are, is a privilege of laying down my duty.”

The hand trails down the side of his face. It feels like he’s tracing gold into his skin. He likes that thought.

“It makes me happy to love you. I like to be close to you, and give you everything you want. That is why this appeals to me.”

Childe sighs. “Okay,” he breathes. Zhongli sighs too, a gusty, affectated thing, manhandling Childe back into his chest.

“Childe.” He drawls. “Did it look to you like I was working?”

Zhongli’s long stream of muttered praises flash to mind, guttural and uncontrolled, so unlike him. Childe thinks of the way he’d folded him into the shape he wanted, and the flare of his eyes while he’d stared into his open mouth.

“No,” he mutters, pout loud in his voice. Zhongli chuckles at him. “You cleaned me up,” he deflects.

“Yes.” Zhongli retorts. “Gladly.” He passes Childe the tea again. “But it doesn’t replace a shower. Finish your tea before it cools,” (Childe obeys, and it is already lukewarm) “and we’ll clean up properly.”

And so it begins in the shower, and ends there too.